The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan :: :: University of Virginia Library

With woe unutterable and pity vast
As the still Heaven on which His eyes were cast,
He listen'd dumbly, while new voices cried,
‘We too were slain, and by his Priests we died!’
And like to cloud on cloud, blown by the wind
And broken, dusky swarms of Humankind
Still came and went; and then rose wailing crowds
Who bare the lighted candle, and in their shrouds
Walk'd naked-footed to the martyr's pyre;
With men whose entrails Famine's hidden fire
Gnaw'd till they shriek'd aloud; and every-where
A cruel scent of carnage filled the air,
As countless armèd legions of the slain
Roll'd up as if for battle once again,
While o'er them, flaming between earth and sky,
The crimson Cross was swung!

All these pass'd by;
Then Silence deep as Death fell suddenly,
And all was hushèd as a rainy Sea!

Then came a rush of hosts mingled in storm
Confusedly, and phantoms multiform
That shriek'd and smote each other.

‘Behold them,’ cried
The Accuser, ‘Followers of the Crucified!
The ravening wolves of wrath that never sleep,
Yet seek his fold and call themselves his sheep!
Where'er they strive, Murder and Madness dwell,
And Earth is lighted with the hates of Hell!
Lo, how they love each other, having heard
The crafty gospel of his broken Word!
Lo, how they surge in everlasting strife,
Seeking the mirage of Eternal Life!’

Struggling unto the Judgment-place they came,
Smiting each other in their Master's Name;
Beneath their feet fell women stab'd and cleft,
And little children anguishing bereft.
And like a River of Blood that ever grew,
They rush'd until they roll'd round that pale Jew,
And lo! His feet grew bloody ere He was 'ware!
Yet still they smote each other, and in despair
Shriek'd out His praises as they multiplied
Their dead around Him . . . And thus they testified!

And He, the Man Forlorn, stood mute in woe.

I saw the white corpse of the Huguenot
Float past Him on that dreadful Sea of Lives;
I saw the nun struck down and gash'd with knives
Ev'n as she told her beads; I saw them pass,
The Martyrs of the Book or of the Mass,
Cast down and slain alike; the priest of Rome
Fought with the priest of Luther, thrusting home
With venomous knife or sword; and evermore
The Cross of Blood was wildly waven o'er
The waves of carnage, till they swept from sight,
Moaning and rushing onward thro' the Night.

Then, as the Storm seem'd weeping itself away,
I saw two ghostly Spirits ooming grey
Against that dark Golgotha, and one of these
Clung to the other, and sank upon his knees.

234

‘What man art thou?’

‘Jean Calas.’

‘He whose hands
Thou, kneeling, wettest with thy tears; who stands
Smiling upon the Accused?’

The last replied:
‘Voltaire the people named me. I denied
The godhead of that Jew, and at his brow
Pointed in mockery and scorn, as now!
Pope, Kings, and Priests shiver'd like frighten'd birds
Before the rain and lightning of my words,
And crouch'd with draggled plumage, awed and dumb,
Because they deem'd that Antichrist had come.
One day I heard this man in his poor home
Shriek loud, encircled by the snakes of Rome;
And tho' their poison slew him, ere he died
I crush'd the vipers 'neath my heel, and cried
“Thy woes shall be avengèd; I am here!”
Even then a million wretches cast off fear,
And looking on this man's seed, redeem'd by me,
Fear'd the foul Christ no longer, and grew free!’

Thin, gaunt and pale, around his lips the ray
Of a cold scorn, he smiled and pass'd away,
His eyes upon the Jew; and with him went
Dark silent men whose musing eyes were bent
On open scrolls; and 'mong them laughing stood
A King who held a mimic Cross of wood,
And broke it o'er his knee, with a fierce jest;
So pass'd they, Holbach, Diderot, and the rest,
The foes of Godhead and the friends of Man;
But after them great crowds in tumult ran,
Who waved their dark and blood-stain'd arms and shriek'd,
‘We, who had lain in darkness, rose and wreak'd
Man's wrath on this false God, who had scorn'd our prayer
And sent his Kings and slaves to strip us bare!
Yea, in his Name the Harlots and the Priests
Yoked us and harness'd us like blinded beasts;
And when we cried for food they profferèd
The stones of his cold Gospel and not bread;
And where his blessing fell the foul found gold,
And where it fell not we were bought and sold.
His foot was on the heads beneath him bowed,
His hand was with the pitiless and the proud,
His mercy failed us, but the curse he gave
Pursued our spirits even beyond the grave.
Thus he who had promised love gave only hate!
He spake of Heaven and made Earth desolate!
Thou didst at last avenge us, Spirit of Man,
Through thee the Night was cloven and Day began,
And on thine altars blood as sacrament
Appal'd the Kings of Earth this God had sent!’

Then once again the Accuser rose and cried:
‘The countless hosts of Dead have testified;
But lastly, to this solemn Judgment-place,
I summon up the seed of this Man's race;
Bear witness now, ye Jews, against this Jew!’