Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Birth of Gunpowder.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
The Birth of Gunpowder.
A starving monk, by chemic art,
Drew poisons from the flowers;
Like liquid moonshine, he distilled
The quicksilver in showers.
Drew poisons from the flowers;
Like liquid moonshine, he distilled
The quicksilver in showers.
Black was his name, and black his heart,
An evil man and dire,
Or why lean stooping night and day
With eyes upon the fire?
An evil man and dire,
Or why lean stooping night and day
With eyes upon the fire?
249
He made the gold arise, a tree,
And branch out glittering veins;
He smiled to view, 'mid-scarlet coals,
The salamander's pains.
And branch out glittering veins;
He smiled to view, 'mid-scarlet coals,
The salamander's pains.
He made the amber wine blush red
When he stirred round the flask:
Full fifty Summers' yellow moons
Had found him at his task.
When he stirred round the flask:
Full fifty Summers' yellow moons
Had found him at his task.
He bade the mummy in the chest
Pant with convulsive throes;
Homunculus's flaccid cheek
To blossom like a rose;
Pant with convulsive throes;
Homunculus's flaccid cheek
To blossom like a rose;
Dry skeletons to shake and dance
Around him in a ring;
He called, and lo! the clouds would poise,
And fold each snowy wing.
Around him in a ring;
He called, and lo! the clouds would poise,
And fold each snowy wing.
He stamped: red creatures from the mine
Broke out in wafts of fire;
Yet he was poor, for Popes and kings
Know not that word—aspire.
Broke out in wafts of fire;
Yet he was poor, for Popes and kings
Know not that word—aspire.
250
He was the scorn of barons' halls,
The scoff of jester fools;
The dogs flew at him when he came
To doors of pimps and tools.
The scoff of jester fools;
The dogs flew at him when he came
To doors of pimps and tools.
Oh, hollow-cheeked the thinker was,
And very wan and pale;
His frock was patched and clouted like
The fisher's oldest sail.
And very wan and pale;
His frock was patched and clouted like
The fisher's oldest sail.
The children pointed at his beard,
And laughed to scorn his age;
The very clowns would leave their ploughs
To pelt the wandering sage.
And laughed to scorn his age;
The very clowns would leave their ploughs
To pelt the wandering sage.
One night, when autumn moonbeams shed
Soft crimson on his hand,
They say he broke his rod, and freed
The spirits of his band.
Soft crimson on his hand,
They say he broke his rod, and freed
The spirits of his band.
There came dark figures through the fog
And struck a vein that bled;
He scraped the Bible's parchment clean,
And signed the bond with red.
And struck a vein that bled;
He scraped the Bible's parchment clean,
And signed the bond with red.
Though poor and famine-pinched he was,
He was a king of earth;
And yet in forty devils' names
He cursed his day of birth.
He was a king of earth;
And yet in forty devils' names
He cursed his day of birth.
At once the lust of knowing died,
And, like a burning flame,
Fierce ruling in his brain and heart,
The lust of power came.
And, like a burning flame,
Fierce ruling in his brain and heart,
The lust of power came.
“The secret!” cried he. “Deepest hell,
Yield it, for it is mine;
I give my soul, O Lucifer,
And every part is thine.”
Yield it, for it is mine;
I give my soul, O Lucifer,
And every part is thine.”
He swore by all the blood Christ shed,
For one more mighty spell
He'd yield all hope of heaven's bliss,
And fling his soul in hell.
For one more mighty spell
He'd yield all hope of heaven's bliss,
And fling his soul in hell.
That instant, as he broke his flasks
Together in the flame,
An earthquake shook the riven vault,
And, lo! the wonder came.
Together in the flame,
An earthquake shook the riven vault,
And, lo! the wonder came.
He saw hell's secret writ in fire,
Then, swooning, reeled and sunk:
This was hot nitre's devil's birth—
God's curses on this monk!
Then, swooning, reeled and sunk:
This was hot nitre's devil's birth—
God's curses on this monk!
A thunder-clap split roof and tower,
And shook the sleeping town,
Then, with a crash of coming doom,
Blew all the abbey down.
And shook the sleeping town,
Then, with a crash of coming doom,
Blew all the abbey down.
Upon a blackened heap of stones,
Scorched, shapeless, torn, and shrunk,
One hand upon a crucible,
They found the curséd monk.
Scorched, shapeless, torn, and shrunk,
One hand upon a crucible,
They found the curséd monk.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |