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III. Part III. THE SCAFFOLD.
Seven strokes toll out the hour,
Chim'd harsh and slow;
Now courage! and God help us all!
It is time to go.
Ere the last sound has died,
With sudden motion glide
The prison doors aside;
Look upward now!
It rises gaunt and grim
Athwart the shadows dim,
Looming in ghastly shape;
No rescue nor escape.
Forward! It must be fac'd,
It is not over yet:
Well that thou hast a hero's heart,
Or how could this be met?
Over the flinty courtyard
The dark procession go,
Lighted tapers flickering,
Funeral shadows throw;
The death-knell tolling, tolling,
Ever more sad and slow;
And a faint hymn chanted
Quivering and low;
‘Mourir pour la patrie!’
It is even so.
Chim'd harsh and slow;
Now courage! and God help us all!
It is time to go.
Ere the last sound has died,
With sudden motion glide
The prison doors aside;
Look upward now!
It rises gaunt and grim
Athwart the shadows dim,
Looming in ghastly shape;
No rescue nor escape.
Forward! It must be fac'd,
It is not over yet:
Well that thou hast a hero's heart,
Or how could this be met?
50
The dark procession go,
Lighted tapers flickering,
Funeral shadows throw;
The death-knell tolling, tolling,
Ever more sad and slow;
And a faint hymn chanted
Quivering and low;
‘Mourir pour la patrie!’
It is even so.
On to the slaughter led,
Headsman and priest between;
Hands bound behind his back,
Long penance shroud of black,
Bare feet and veiled head,
And a conqueror's proud tread
Up the steps fifteen.
Via Dolorosa!
A rude rough way;
Yet mid the mockeries
Of this dire array
There is a glory on thee
They cannot take away.
Now most of all we feel,
O Hero! we would kneel
In homage unto thee.—
One went up for this world's weal
In shame to Calvary.
Headsman and priest between;
Hands bound behind his back,
Long penance shroud of black,
Bare feet and veiled head,
And a conqueror's proud tread
Up the steps fifteen.
Via Dolorosa!
A rude rough way;
Yet mid the mockeries
Of this dire array
There is a glory on thee
They cannot take away.
Now most of all we feel,
O Hero! we would kneel
51
One went up for this world's weal
In shame to Calvary.
It seems thou wouldst implore
Leave to speak once more
In all men's hearing free.
Thou turnest, we can see,
Towards them wistfully,
Those throngs of gazers there,
Who now must witness bear
For thee to history.
But they are driven back
Too far for this to be;
Too mighty mastery lies
In thy voice, in thine eyes;
Not for enslaved ear
Patriot's last charge to hear:
So thou must have denial.
Yet fear not, O full heart,
Unread from earth to part;
Love can those words divine,
Needeth nor voice nor sign;
All our hearts beat with thine
Through this last trial.
Farewell! farewell! The cry
Ariseth far and nigh;
From the land across the sea,
From thine own Italy,
From souls in slavery
Whom thou didst seek to free,
All the world holds of sympathy
Is round thee now.
All the world waits to-day
For the tidings that will say,
Thou art pass'd away.
In many a distant home,
Thou know'st not it may be
Many a tear ere night
Will fall for thee.
Yes, as thou standest there,
Nations in despair
Lift their eyes to thee,
Wailing passionately—
‘Oh, that it should be thou!
For thy love to us
Perishing, and thus;—
Who will save us now?’
What a deadly stillness,
What an awful pause!
Closer and closer o'er us
The black cloud draws.
In one shuddering silence
Thousands are bound;
What a horror of darkness
Gathers around!
Dizzy our eyes and dim—
The earth reels to and fro;
With wildly rattling pulses
The gasped moments go.
A dark and fearful passage
We are entering with thee;
But thy calm aspect lighteth it
Gloriously.
Leave to speak once more
In all men's hearing free.
Thou turnest, we can see,
Towards them wistfully,
Those throngs of gazers there,
Who now must witness bear
For thee to history.
But they are driven back
Too far for this to be;
Too mighty mastery lies
In thy voice, in thine eyes;
Not for enslaved ear
Patriot's last charge to hear:
So thou must have denial.
Yet fear not, O full heart,
Unread from earth to part;
Love can those words divine,
52
All our hearts beat with thine
Through this last trial.
Farewell! farewell! The cry
Ariseth far and nigh;
From the land across the sea,
From thine own Italy,
From souls in slavery
Whom thou didst seek to free,
All the world holds of sympathy
Is round thee now.
All the world waits to-day
For the tidings that will say,
Thou art pass'd away.
In many a distant home,
Thou know'st not it may be
Many a tear ere night
Will fall for thee.
Yes, as thou standest there,
Nations in despair
Lift their eyes to thee,
Wailing passionately—
‘Oh, that it should be thou!
For thy love to us
Perishing, and thus;—
Who will save us now?’
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What an awful pause!
Closer and closer o'er us
The black cloud draws.
In one shuddering silence
Thousands are bound;
What a horror of darkness
Gathers around!
Dizzy our eyes and dim—
The earth reels to and fro;
With wildly rattling pulses
The gasped moments go.
A dark and fearful passage
We are entering with thee;
But thy calm aspect lighteth it
Gloriously.
Thou hast reach'd the place of death—
Here we must part;
We may go no further
With thee, noble heart.
So now blessings, and adieu!
Only One can take thee through;
Nothing more we can do,
Save, mid the breathless shiver
Of the death-agony,
Pray our last prayer for thee,
Felice Orsini,
Once ere we sever:
‘God give thee now good speed,
Help in this last great need,
Glory and martyr's meed
Now and for ever!’
Here we must part;
We may go no further
With thee, noble heart.
So now blessings, and adieu!
Only One can take thee through;
Nothing more we can do,
54
Of the death-agony,
Pray our last prayer for thee,
Felice Orsini,
Once ere we sever:
‘God give thee now good speed,
Help in this last great need,
Glory and martyr's meed
Now and for ever!’
‘Miserere, Agnus Dei!’
The crucifix he kiss'd;
‘Thanks, and farewell!’ One moment
The priest's hand he press'd;
Then turn'd and stood in fixed mood,
To his last work addrest.
The crucifix he kiss'd;
‘Thanks, and farewell!’ One moment
The priest's hand he press'd;
Then turn'd and stood in fixed mood,
To his last work addrest.
Then the veil they rais'd;
But the face on which they gaz'd
Was calm and glorious still.
Brows that darken'd not nor pal'd,
Eyes that neither quiver'd nor quail'd
When the first stroke fell.
On to the block with steady tread,
Though before him the newly dead,
And comrade's blood gush'd red
And warm across his way.
‘Vive la France!’ then he said,
‘Viva l'Italia!’
Down sunk that noble head;
Shudderings and silence dread;—
Angels, make way!
But the face on which they gaz'd
Was calm and glorious still.
Brows that darken'd not nor pal'd,
Eyes that neither quiver'd nor quail'd
When the first stroke fell.
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Though before him the newly dead,
And comrade's blood gush'd red
And warm across his way.
‘Vive la France!’ then he said,
‘Viva l'Italia!’
Down sunk that noble head;
Shudderings and silence dread;—
Angels, make way!
‘The prison clock struck seven: before the last sound died away, the door leading to the scaffold opened as of itself.’
‘When Orsini appeared on the platform, it could be seen, from the movement of his body and of his head, though covered by the veil, that he was looking out for the crowd, and probably intended addressing them, but they were too far off.’
‘The prisoners remained exposed upon the platform while an usher read the decree of the Court, condemning them to the death of parricides.’—Gazette des Tribunaux.
‘Orsini and Pierri embraced their spiritual attendants, and pressed their lips to the crucifix offered to them.’
‘Pierri was executed first. Orsini was then taken in hand. His veil was raised, and his countenance still betrayed no emotion. Before he was fastened to the plank, he turned in the direction of the distant crowd, and, it is said, cried, “Vive la France!” “Viva l' Italia!”’
Stand still, great world, a moment!
Fold your hands and pray:
‘O God, let all tyranny
From earth pass away!
Thy kingdom come! and never
Let there again be need
Of such o'erwhelming deed,
Or of such vengeful meed,
Earth to deliver!’
Fold your hands and pray:
‘O God, let all tyranny
From earth pass away!
Thy kingdom come! and never
Let there again be need
Of such o'erwhelming deed,
Or of such vengeful meed,
Earth to deliver!’
Over!—Through all these weeks,
Hallowing their gloom and pain,
The shadow of thine agony
Over the world has lain,—
A haunting, passionate presence,
Beneath whose fixed strain,
We who kept watch with thee have pass'd
Through fires of heart and brain.
Now we draw breath, and say,
‘Thank God!—Well done!’
And out of this Gethsemane
At last thy crown is won;
Safe mid the stars for ever,
Thou brave, long suffering one!
Hallowing their gloom and pain,
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Over the world has lain,—
A haunting, passionate presence,
Beneath whose fixed strain,
We who kept watch with thee have pass'd
Through fires of heart and brain.
Now we draw breath, and say,
‘Thank God!—Well done!’
And out of this Gethsemane
At last thy crown is won;
Safe mid the stars for ever,
Thou brave, long suffering one!
Thus was thy victory won;
And when the deed was done,
Out went the fiery sun
In wrath and fear;
Shadow and tremor fell,
Like the echo of a knell,
By hands invisible
Toll'd through the upper air.
All faces in our sight
Pal'd in that awful light
Neither of day nor night:—
And all abroad,
Over the land at noon,
Darkly th' eclipse came on—
For a great soul had gone
Back unto God.
They laid thee in the prison-yard,
Coldly and silently;
But the palaces of heaven
Were hung with black for thee,
And the planets strew'd the pall
Above thee for thy funeral.
And when the deed was done,
Out went the fiery sun
In wrath and fear;
Shadow and tremor fell,
Like the echo of a knell,
By hands invisible
Toll'd through the upper air.
All faces in our sight
Pal'd in that awful light
Neither of day nor night:—
And all abroad,
57
Darkly th' eclipse came on—
For a great soul had gone
Back unto God.
They laid thee in the prison-yard,
Coldly and silently;
But the palaces of heaven
Were hung with black for thee,
And the planets strew'd the pall
Above thee for thy funeral.
So we take leave of thee,
Felice Orsini:
Thy like we shall not see
On earth again;
Never one century
Gave two such men.
From thy grave we part
With hush'd and reverent heart,
And comfort in our pain,
Feeling that not in vain
Such life and death could be;
With hope a coming year
Will yet make all things clear
By glorious consequence;
And we shall wholly see
Through this dark mystery
Of Providence:
Why one who had stood fast
In lifelong constancy,
Who had so nobly past
Through all adversity,
Should have been tried at last
So strangely, fearfully.
None, knowing thee, can doubt
Thy heart was pure throughout;
None can thy steps have track'd,
And not felt from the first
The martyrdom the worst
To thee lay in the act.
None hath known, or could know,
The conflict and the woe
Through which thy soul did go
Ere it gave way.
With brain tost to and fro,
Seething in ebb and flow,
Throbbing and turning so,
Aright thou couldst not tell
Whether from heaven or hell
Those voices round thee fell,
Ceasing not night or day;
And in that agony,
None helping thee, didst cry,
As we may deem—
‘O, save me from this hour!
Is there no other power
My nation to redeem?
Flesh and spirit both
Abhor it, faint and loth;
Far gladlier would I go
To death by tortures slow,
To dungeons earth below,
All men can make of woe;—
Their utmost power I know.
Yet, seeing it is so,
And I am call'd thereto,
I may not shrink nor flee
From this now laid on me.
O Mother Italy,
Life, name, and liberty,
And soul, if needs must be,
Were all vow'd unto thee.
And I have kept that vow
With single heart and true,
All good and evil through,
As I will keep it now.
For when young life was shining,
And heart with heart entwining,
I chose without repining
A dark and cheerless road:
Therein these many years,
Through all that nature fears,
In loss, and pain, and tears,
Straight forward I have trod;
Till unto me remain'd
Only a name unstain'd;
Now, that must perish too;—
There will be still a few
To judge me tenderly.—
It must be: all I ask,
Is strength for this stern task;
And for the rest, my God,
I trust my soul to Thee.
If, in Thy charity,
There is no room for me;—
If it must be indeed
Thy laws eternal need
That for this loathed deed
I perish utterly:—
If Thou wilt cast me out,
I that have clung to Thee
In anguish and in doubt,
And wrestled fearfully
To know Thy truth;—yet still,
Millions for rescue call;
It must be,—one for all;
Here am I,—do Thy will!’
Felice Orsini:
Thy like we shall not see
On earth again;
Never one century
Gave two such men.
From thy grave we part
With hush'd and reverent heart,
And comfort in our pain,
Feeling that not in vain
Such life and death could be;
With hope a coming year
Will yet make all things clear
By glorious consequence;
58
Through this dark mystery
Of Providence:
Why one who had stood fast
In lifelong constancy,
Who had so nobly past
Through all adversity,
Should have been tried at last
So strangely, fearfully.
None, knowing thee, can doubt
Thy heart was pure throughout;
None can thy steps have track'd,
And not felt from the first
The martyrdom the worst
To thee lay in the act.
None hath known, or could know,
The conflict and the woe
Through which thy soul did go
Ere it gave way.
With brain tost to and fro,
Seething in ebb and flow,
Throbbing and turning so,
59
Whether from heaven or hell
Those voices round thee fell,
Ceasing not night or day;
And in that agony,
None helping thee, didst cry,
As we may deem—
‘O, save me from this hour!
Is there no other power
My nation to redeem?
Flesh and spirit both
Abhor it, faint and loth;
Far gladlier would I go
To death by tortures slow,
To dungeons earth below,
All men can make of woe;—
Their utmost power I know.
Yet, seeing it is so,
And I am call'd thereto,
I may not shrink nor flee
From this now laid on me.
O Mother Italy,
Life, name, and liberty,
And soul, if needs must be,
Were all vow'd unto thee.
And I have kept that vow
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All good and evil through,
As I will keep it now.
For when young life was shining,
And heart with heart entwining,
I chose without repining
A dark and cheerless road:
Therein these many years,
Through all that nature fears,
In loss, and pain, and tears,
Straight forward I have trod;
Till unto me remain'd
Only a name unstain'd;
Now, that must perish too;—
There will be still a few
To judge me tenderly.—
It must be: all I ask,
Is strength for this stern task;
And for the rest, my God,
I trust my soul to Thee.
If, in Thy charity,
There is no room for me;—
If it must be indeed
Thy laws eternal need
That for this loathed deed
I perish utterly:—
61
I that have clung to Thee
In anguish and in doubt,
And wrestled fearfully
To know Thy truth;—yet still,
Millions for rescue call;
It must be,—one for all;
Here am I,—do Thy will!’
So thy resolve was taken,
And thou, revil'd, forsaken,
Didst bear that cross unshaken
On through the gates of death.
And past them, at God's feet,
We know that thou didst meet
Award more just and tender
Than any we could render:
Who knew thy worth as He?
Upon His mercy cast,
Toil and travail past,
Thou hast found thy home at last,
And all is well with thee.
The crime by death is expiate,
Thou hast bow'd unto thy fate,
Thy place on earth is desolate,
And it was just:
But the exalted faith,
The hope that triumpheth,
The love prov'd unto death
Tender, and true, and pure,
These cannot but endure;
And in God's love secure,
Through sorrow-clouds obscure,
Humbly we trust;
Thankful that He has given
Another Star to Heaven,
Another name of worth,
To the memories of Earth.
And thou, revil'd, forsaken,
Didst bear that cross unshaken
On through the gates of death.
And past them, at God's feet,
We know that thou didst meet
Award more just and tender
Than any we could render:
Who knew thy worth as He?
Upon His mercy cast,
Toil and travail past,
Thou hast found thy home at last,
And all is well with thee.
The crime by death is expiate,
Thou hast bow'd unto thy fate,
Thy place on earth is desolate,
And it was just:
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The hope that triumpheth,
The love prov'd unto death
Tender, and true, and pure,
These cannot but endure;
And in God's love secure,
Through sorrow-clouds obscure,
Humbly we trust;
Thankful that He has given
Another Star to Heaven,
Another name of worth,
To the memories of Earth.
Thou the crown of thorn
With stedfast brows hast worn,—
The world's reproach and scorn,
A heart by wild thoughts torn,
Dungeon depths forlorn,
And this dread judgment-morn:
The utmost thou hast borne,
And it is o'er:
A name far down to shine,
Rest in the Life Divine,
The red rose crown is thine
For evermore.
With stedfast brows hast worn,—
The world's reproach and scorn,
A heart by wild thoughts torn,
Dungeon depths forlorn,
And this dread judgment-morn:
The utmost thou hast borne,
And it is o'er:
A name far down to shine,
Rest in the Life Divine,
The red rose crown is thine
For evermore.
The writer holds in firm faith that the Emperor's sudden change of policy, whence the war in Italy and all the late and present glorious events have sprung, was immediately caused by Orsini's dying letters; and from the moment of his martyrdom believed that the salvation of his country would be wrought thereby, though without knowing how. That Orsini's last hours were cheered by the same faith, we have good reasons for believing. 1860.
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