The inspiration of your deeds on earth,

Your hopes in heaven! Light it again in me,
And I will scathe our foes with fire and sword;
Will conquer and destroy all who oppose me,
The myriads of the children of the dust.

I, the last son of hundred generations,

Sole heir of all your virtues, thoughts, and faults!

P

INTRODUCTION TO THE LAST ACT

From The Undivine Comedy '

ERCHED like an eagle, high among the rocks,
Stands the old fortress, "Holy Trinity."

Now from its bastions nothing can be seen,

To right, to left, in front, or in the rear,

A spectral image of that Deluge wrath

Which, as its wild waves rose to sweep o'er earth,

Once broke o'er these steep cliffs, these time-worn rocks.

No glimpses can be traced of vale beneath,

Buried in ghastly waves of ice-cold sea,

Wrapping it as the shroud winds round the dead.

No crimson rays of coming sun yet light
The clammy, pallid winding-sheet of foam.

Upon a bold and naked granite peak,
Above the spectral mist, the castle stands,

A solitary island in this sea.

Its bastions, parapets, and lofty towers

Built of the rock from which they soar, appear
During the lapse of ages to have grown

Out of its stony heart (as human breast

Springs from the centaur's back), - the giant work
Of days long past.

A single banner floats
Above the highest tower; it is the last,
The only Banner of the Cross on earth!

A shudder stirs and wakes the sleeping mist,

The bleak winds sigh, and silence rules no more;
The vapor surges, palpitates, and drifts,

In the first rays shot by the coming sun.
The breeze is chill; the very light seems frost,
Curdling the clouds that form and roll and drift

Above this tossing sea of fog and foam.
With Nature's tumult other sounds arise,
And human voices mingling with the storm
Articulate their wail, as it sweeps on.

Borne on and upward by the lifting waves
Of the cloud-surge, they break against the towers,
The castle's granite walls-voices of doom!

Long golden shafts transpierce the sea of foam;
The clinging shroud of mist is swiftly riven;
Through vaporous walls that line the spectral chasm
Are glimpses seen of deep abyss below.
How dark it looks athwart the precipice!
Myriads of heads in wild commotion surge;

The valley swarms with life, as ocean's sands

With writhing things that creep and twist and sting.
The sun! the sun! he mounts above the peaks!
The driven, tortured vapors rise in blood;
More and more clearly grow upon the eye
The threatening swarms fast gathering below.

The quivering mist rolls into crimson clouds;
It scales the craggy cliffs, and softly melts
Into the depths of infinite blue sky.
The valley glitters like a sea of light,
Throws back the sunshine in a dazzling glare;
For every hand is armed with sharpened blade,
And bayonets and points of steel flash fire;
Millions are pouring through the living depths,-
As numberless as they at last will throng
Into the valley of Jehoshaphat,

When called to answer on the Judgment Day.

Translation of Martha Walker Cook.

A

ARISTOCRACY'S LAST STAND

From The Undivine Comedy >

T LAST I see you, hated enemies!

With my whole power I trace your cunning plans,
Surround you with my scorn.

No more we meet

Within the realm of idle words, of poetry,

But in the real world of deadly combat,

Sharp sword to sword, the rattling hail of bullets

Winged by the concentration of my hate!

No more with single arm and voice I meet you
The strength of many centres in my will.

It is a joyous thing to govern, rule,
Even were it solely at the price of death;
To feel myself the sovereign arbiter,
The master of so many wills and lives;

To see there at my feet my enemies
Leaping and howling at me from the abyss,
But all bereft of power to reach me here:
So like the damned, who vainly lift their heads
Toward Heaven!

I know . . . I know, a few hours more of time,
And I and thousands of yon craven wretches
Who have forgot their fathers and their God
Will be no more forever! Be it so!
At least I have a few days more of life,
To satiate myself with joy of combat—
The ecstasy of full command o'er others,
The giddy daring, struggle, victory, loss!
Thou, my last song, swell to a chant of triumph,
For death's the latest foe a man can conquer!

The sun sets fast behind the needled cliffs,
Sinks in a darksome cloud of threatening vapors;
His crimson rays light luridly the valley.-
Precursor of the bloody death before me,
I greet you with a fuller, gladder heart
Than I have e'er saluted ye, vain hopes
And promises of joy or blissful love!

Not through intrigue, through base or cunning skill,
Have I attained the aim of my desires;
But by a sudden bound I've leaped to fame,
As my persistent dreams told me I must.
Ruler o'er those but yesterday my equals,
Conqueror of death, since willingly I seek him,
I stand upon the brink; -eternal life, or sleep!

Translation of Martha Walker Cook.

ANCRAS

THE TRIUMPH OF CHRISTIANITY

From The Undivine Comedy '

The hour of rest has not yet struck for me!

PANCR The last sad sign of my last enemy

Marks the completion of but half my task.
Look at these spaces, these immensities,
Stretching between my thoughts and me.

Earth's deserts must be peopled, rocks removed,

Swamps drained, and mountains tunneled; trees hewn down;
Seas, lakes, and rivers everywhere connected,

Roads girdle earth, that produce circulate,

And commerce bind all hearts with links of gold.

Each man must own a portion of the soil;

Thought move on lightning wings rending old veils;

The living must outnumber all the hosts

Of those who've perished in this deadly strife;

Life and prosperity must fill the place

Of death and ruin,- ere our work of blood

Can be atoned for! Leonard, this must be done!

If we are not to inaugurate an age

Of social bliss, material ease and wealth,

Our deeds of havoc, devastation, woe,
Will have been worse than vain!

Leonard-The God of liberty will give us power
For these gigantic tasks!

Pancras

Leonard

You speak of God!
Do you not see that it is crimson here?
Slippery with gore in which we stand knee-deep?
Whose gushing blood is this beneath our feet?
Naught is behind us save the castle court;
Whatever is, I see, and there is no one near.-
We are alone-and yet there surely stands
Another here between us!

I can see nothing but this bloody corpse!
Pancras -- The corpse of his old faithful servant - dead!
It is a living spirit haunts this spot!

This is his cap and belt; look at his arms;
There is the rock o'erhanging the abyss;
And on that spot it was his great heart broke!
Leonard-Pancras, how pale you grow!

Pancras

'Tis there! up there!

Do you not see it?

Leonard

I see a mass of clouds

Wild-drifting o'er the top of that steep rock
O'erhanging the abyss. How high they pile!
Now they turn crimson in the sunset rays.
Pancras - There is a fearful symbol burning there!
Leonard-Your sight deceives you.
Pancras -

Where are now my people?
The millions who revered and who obeyed me?
Leonard-You hear their acclamations,-they await you.
Pancras, look not again on yon steep cliff,—
Your eyes die in their sockets as you gaze!
Pancras Children and women often said that He
Would thus appear,—but on the last day only!
Leonard-Who? Where?
Pancras -

Like a tall column there he stands,
In dazzling whiteness o'er yon precipice!
With both his hands he leans upon his cross,

As an avenger on his sword! Leonard,

His crown of thorns is interlaced with lightningLeonard-What is the matter?- Pancras, answer me! Pancras - The dazzling flashes of his eyes are death! Leonard-You're ghastly pale! Come, let us quit this spot! Pancras -Oh!— Leonard, spread your hands and shade my eyes! Press, press them till I see no more! Tear me away! Oh, shield me from that look! It crushes me to dust! Leonard [placing his hands over the eyes]

Pancras

Will it do thus?

Your hands are like a phantom's!— Powerless-with neither flesh nor bones!

Transparent as pure water, crystal, air,

They shut out nothing! I can see! still see!

Leonard-Your eyes die in their sockets! Lean on me!

Pancras - Can you not give me darkness? Darkness! Darkness! He stands there motionless,- pierced with three nails,— Three stars!

His outstretched arms are lightning flashes! - Darkness!· Leonard-I can see nothing! Master! Master!

Pancras

Darkness!

Leonard-Ho! citizens! Ho! democrats! aid! aid!
Pancras-VICISTI GALILÆE!

[He falls dead.]

Translation of Martha Walker Cook.