 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
THE SHADE OF THEODOSIUS.
[“Constans II. retained a jealous fear, lest the people should one day invade the right of primogeniture, and seat his brother on an equal throne. By the imposition of holy orders the grandson of Heraclitus was disqualified for the purple; but the ceremony was insufficient to appease the suspicions of the tyrant; and the death of Theodosius could not expiate the crime of his royal birth. His murder was avenged by the imprecations of the people, and the assassin went into voluntary exile. The remorse of his conscience created a phantom, who pursued him, by day and by night; and the visionary Theodosius presenting to his lips a cup of blood, said, or seemed to say, ‘Drink, brother, drink.’”]
Gibbon's Decline and Fall.
From his pale brow the diadem he tore,
And with a look of fear expressive, then
Aside the purple robe of Empire flung.
The watchful sentry of the palace gave
No warning sign of danger lurking near,
And visible was naught that could awake
Within the bosom of a timid child
One thrill of dread. As if communing with
Unearthly forms, the Ruler of proud Rome
Like some enchanter, wildly gazing, stood
Pale and affrighted by his own creations.
The start convulsive, and the trembling frame,
Bespoke the fearful tempest of the soul;
And oft his throbbing brow he fiercely smote,
For memory was working madness there.
In his own shadow breathing life he saw,
And the soft music of the summer winds,
That like a spirit through the lattice stole,
Gave to his hollow cheek a deadlier hue.
His long, loose locks were prematurely gray,
And gone for ever was the bearing high
That one beseems invested with stern power.
He spake at length, as if his ashy lips
The fearful secret could no longer guard,
In the wild tones of agony and guilt:
And with a look of fear expressive, then
Aside the purple robe of Empire flung.
The watchful sentry of the palace gave
No warning sign of danger lurking near,
And visible was naught that could awake
Within the bosom of a timid child
One thrill of dread. As if communing with
Unearthly forms, the Ruler of proud Rome
Like some enchanter, wildly gazing, stood
Pale and affrighted by his own creations.
The start convulsive, and the trembling frame,
Bespoke the fearful tempest of the soul;
And oft his throbbing brow he fiercely smote,
For memory was working madness there.
In his own shadow breathing life he saw,
And the soft music of the summer winds,
That like a spirit through the lattice stole,
Gave to his hollow cheek a deadlier hue.
His long, loose locks were prematurely gray,
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That one beseems invested with stern power.
He spake at length, as if his ashy lips
The fearful secret could no longer guard,
In the wild tones of agony and guilt:
“Grim Phantom! quit my sight—
To me extend not that appalling bowl!
Its crimson contents cannot make my soul
From torture free and white:
Malignant smiles upon thy face appear,
As if exulting in my mortal fear.
To me extend not that appalling bowl!
Its crimson contents cannot make my soul
From torture free and white:
Malignant smiles upon thy face appear,
As if exulting in my mortal fear.
“Wilt thou confront me yet—
Still fix on me thy wild, terrific gaze,
And to my lips again the chalice raise
With slaughter warm and wet?
Depart, depart! thou wan, unbidden guest,
And with the secrets of the charnel, rest!
Still fix on me thy wild, terrific gaze,
And to my lips again the chalice raise
With slaughter warm and wet?
Depart, depart! thou wan, unbidden guest,
And with the secrets of the charnel, rest!
“When mingling with the gay,
Thy presence chills the life-drops in each vein,
And thou art with me on the tented plain
When hosts my nod obey:
Thy presence chases slumber from mine eye
When night in sable robes the earth and sky.
Thy presence chills the life-drops in each vein,
And thou art with me on the tented plain
When hosts my nod obey:
Thy presence chases slumber from mine eye
When night in sable robes the earth and sky.
“Unseen by other men,
Thou art my pale attendant in the halls
Where ring with song and merriment the walls—
And thou art with me when
Poor, crouching vassals gather in the street,
And thousands fall in homage at my feet.
Thou art my pale attendant in the halls
Where ring with song and merriment the walls—
And thou art with me when
Poor, crouching vassals gather in the street,
And thousands fall in homage at my feet.
“Upon a distant shore,
Across the wide expanse of waters blue,
In vain methought affrighted I should view
Thine awful face no more;
Clad in the vestments of the starless grave
Thy spectral form went with me o'er the wave.
Across the wide expanse of waters blue,
In vain methought affrighted I should view
Thine awful face no more;
Clad in the vestments of the starless grave
Thy spectral form went with me o'er the wave.
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“Ah! noiseless is thy tread
When thou art stealing fiercely by my side
Through the dark chambers of this dome of pride,
Bearing the goblet red.
Oft I behold with horror on the floor
Thy gliding feet leave tracks of smoking gore.
When thou art stealing fiercely by my side
Through the dark chambers of this dome of pride,
Bearing the goblet red.
Oft I behold with horror on the floor
Thy gliding feet leave tracks of smoking gore.
“Leave me one hour alone!
My knife long since drank purple from thy veins,
Through fear thy hand would take away the reins
Of empire from mine own;
I could not bear to even dream thy brow
Would wear the crown I cast far from me now.
My knife long since drank purple from thy veins,
Through fear thy hand would take away the reins
Of empire from mine own;
I could not bear to even dream thy brow
Would wear the crown I cast far from me now.
“The shroud that wraps thy form
Moves not when winds are sporting with my locks,
And thy tall, ghastly figure likewise mocks
The fury of the storm;
I have beheld thee standing on the wave
As if the chainless rover was thy slave.
Moves not when winds are sporting with my locks,
And thy tall, ghastly figure likewise mocks
The fury of the storm;
I have beheld thee standing on the wave
As if the chainless rover was thy slave.
“Suppress those hollow sighs!
And let thy brow a milder aspect wear;
My stout frame withers in the fiendish glare
Of those dark, searching eyes—
Recall once more the rose-flush to thy cheek,
And in the sweet tones of forgiveness speak.
And let thy brow a milder aspect wear;
My stout frame withers in the fiendish glare
Of those dark, searching eyes—
Recall once more the rose-flush to thy cheek,
And in the sweet tones of forgiveness speak.
“‘Drink, royal brother, drink,’
Is thy sole answer, while the gory chalice
Recalls a deed of blood in my own palace—
This wasting form will sink
Ere long, unlighted by the frost of Time,
Beneath the weight of agony and crime.
Is thy sole answer, while the gory chalice
Recalls a deed of blood in my own palace—
This wasting form will sink
Ere long, unlighted by the frost of Time,
Beneath the weight of agony and crime.
“Oh, brandish not the steel
That won for me the name of ‘Fratricide,’
But throw away that weapon, redly dyed.
Dizzy and faint I feel!
Ha! fleshless arms my reeling form uphold—
Loose, loose me, brother, for thy grasp is cold!”
That won for me the name of ‘Fratricide,’
But throw away that weapon, redly dyed.
Dizzy and faint I feel!
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Loose, loose me, brother, for thy grasp is cold!”
Of what avail are counterfeited smiles
That light the haggard face of hiding guilt!
On scorching brain and heart there is a worm
That darkly feeds until the tongue at last
Proves traitor to the secret, and proclaims
The horrid truth:—that worm is keen Remorse!
That light the haggard face of hiding guilt!
On scorching brain and heart there is a worm
That darkly feeds until the tongue at last
Proves traitor to the secret, and proclaims
The horrid truth:—that worm is keen Remorse!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |