 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
510
THE SKELETON AT THE FEAST.
The lamps were lit, the gorgeous Feast was spread;
And to their seats the guests, with thoughtless tread,
Trooped. Their proud hearts were dancing high with joy;
Though forth had gone the Angel to destroy,
Whose name is Death. They heeded not the cry
Of murder, that seemed only to make fly
Swifter and sweeter the dark hours of shame.
With looks elate to that high Feast they came.
And to their seats the guests, with thoughtless tread,
Trooped. Their proud hearts were dancing high with joy;
Though forth had gone the Angel to destroy,
Whose name is Death. They heeded not the cry
Of murder, that seemed only to make fly
Swifter and sweeter the dark hours of shame.
With looks elate to that high Feast they came.
The master's eye ranged over that rare sight,
A monument of beauty and of might
Made captive to his will, with fearful bliss.
He saw alone the hidden black abyss
Below, that poisoned all his curséd pride.
He saw a Shadow ever at his side,
And stared around, with thunder-laden brow;
Mumbling, unconscious, still the broken vow.
A monument of beauty and of might
Made captive to his will, with fearful bliss.
He saw alone the hidden black abyss
Below, that poisoned all his curséd pride.
He saw a Shadow ever at his side,
And stared around, with thunder-laden brow;
Mumbling, unconscious, still the broken vow.
Fast flew the rosy hours, the mirth waxed high;
Wine flowed, wit flashed; the maiden morn drew nigh,
Trembling, to that flushed seene, and on it laid
One pure white shaft of light, as if afraid
To enter. Lovely women and famed men
Laughed, jested, drank to fairer times . . . But, then,
A solemn hush fell on the hearts of all.
Forth came a Hand, and wrote upon the wall.
Wine flowed, wit flashed; the maiden morn drew nigh,
Trembling, to that flushed seene, and on it laid
One pure white shaft of light, as if afraid
To enter. Lovely women and famed men
Laughed, jested, drank to fairer times . . . But, then,
A solemn hush fell on the hearts of all.
Forth came a Hand, and wrote upon the wall.
Forth came a Hand, and then a gory Head,
And then a grisly Foot, that seemed to tread
Down their mad mirth and even the very life.
A horror, sharp as the assassin's knife
Pierced every soul. Deep darkness on them fell,
While a still Voice spoke with a funeral knell.
—“Weighed and found wanting; tried but never true;
“Gone is thy kingdom; take thy dreadful due.”
And then a grisly Foot, that seemed to tread
Down their mad mirth and even the very life.
A horror, sharp as the assassin's knife
Pierced every soul. Deep darkness on them fell,
While a still Voice spoke with a funeral knell.
—“Weighed and found wanting; tried but never true;
“Gone is thy kingdom; take thy dreadful due.”
It ceased. And loud the Master laughed, and bade
No guests be troubled at a conjuror's shade,
And tricking sounds. “More dainties bring,” he cried,
“Pledge the bright Future, let faint hearts be plied
“With generous wine.” He spoke. And, at this hour,
Still his strong will retained its ancient power,
His words their wonted magic; and, once more,
They ate, they drank, they jested, as before.
No guests be troubled at a conjuror's shade,
And tricking sounds. “More dainties bring,” he cried,
“Pledge the bright Future, let faint hearts be plied
“With generous wine.” He spoke. And, at this hour,
Still his strong will retained its ancient power,
His words their wonted magic; and, once more,
They ate, they drank, they jested, as before.
But, lo! the laugh died on the curling lips,
And the cold shadow of a grim eclipse
Struck; as from plates uncovered seemed to start,
Here a pale head, and there a bleeding heart.
While snakes of fire hissed from each horrid light;
Skulls grinned from flowers; and a blue ghastly blight,
Like wan weird corpse-lights upon all was spread.
The Banquet was the Banquet of the Dead.
And the cold shadow of a grim eclipse
Struck; as from plates uncovered seemed to start,
Here a pale head, and there a bleeding heart.
While snakes of fire hissed from each horrid light;
Skulls grinned from flowers; and a blue ghastly blight,
Like wan weird corpse-lights upon all was spread.
The Banquet was the Banquet of the Dead.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |