Gods, Saints & Men By Eugene Lee-Hamilton ... With Ten Full-Page Illustartions Designed by Enrico Mazzanti |
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THE EMPEROR ON THE LEDGE.
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 | Gods, Saints & Men |  |
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THE EMPEROR ON THE LEDGE.
ABOUT A.D. 1500.
A fearful fall: a most prodigious fall!
Nay, wholly inconceivable!
Nay, wholly inconceivable!
He rose,
Still clutching in his scraped and bleeding hands,
The weeds which he had snatched at as he fell;
And, dizzy still, looked up. From where he stood,
The maze of ledges and of pathless crags,
Down which by Heaven's guidance he had come,
Appeared a wall as smooth and as abrupt
As this last slope of rock down which he rolled,
And which forbade retreat, where stood he now?
He looked around: it was a narrow ledge,
Some ten yards long, which like a balcony,
Hung o'er he knew not what, for underneath
A sea of mist, with which the morning sun
Was just about to struggle, hid the view,
Adhering closely to the mountain's side.
So he must wait—Oh thrice unlucky chase!
Oh cursed impulse which had made him take,
That shorter cut across the crags alone,
To mar a whole day's sport! 'Twas well indeed,
That he was gifted with a foot as sure,
A head as steady on the dizzy brink,
As any of his loyal Tyrolese,
Who trod these mountains; else the effigy
Upon the German ducats would have changed,
Before the time was ripe! a fearful fall,
A wondrous fall! but now the worst was o'er;
The lower ledges would be easier work,
And when this heavy mist had passed away,
He'd find a path.
Still clutching in his scraped and bleeding hands,
The weeds which he had snatched at as he fell;
And, dizzy still, looked up. From where he stood,
The maze of ledges and of pathless crags,
Down which by Heaven's guidance he had come,
Appeared a wall as smooth and as abrupt
As this last slope of rock down which he rolled,
And which forbade retreat, where stood he now?
He looked around: it was a narrow ledge,
Some ten yards long, which like a balcony,
Hung o'er he knew not what, for underneath
A sea of mist, with which the morning sun
Was just about to struggle, hid the view,
Adhering closely to the mountain's side.
So he must wait—Oh thrice unlucky chase!
Oh cursed impulse which had made him take,
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To mar a whole day's sport! 'Twas well indeed,
That he was gifted with a foot as sure,
A head as steady on the dizzy brink,
As any of his loyal Tyrolese,
Who trod these mountains; else the effigy
Upon the German ducats would have changed,
Before the time was ripe! a fearful fall,
A wondrous fall! but now the worst was o'er;
The lower ledges would be easier work,
And when this heavy mist had passed away,
He'd find a path.
The mist dissolved. He looked
And held his breath aghast: a precipice,
A thousand feet in depth, a wall of rock,
Unbroken by a single crack or ledge
Where bird might build, or weed might lodge its root,
Yawned sheer below him, till the grassy slopes,
Which met the strong and rapid Inn. Beyond
Were fertile fields, with Innsbruck far away.
And held his breath aghast: a precipice,
A thousand feet in depth, a wall of rock,
Unbroken by a single crack or ledge
Where bird might build, or weed might lodge its root,
Yawned sheer below him, till the grassy slopes,
Which met the strong and rapid Inn. Beyond
Were fertile fields, with Innsbruck far away.
He sat him down to think; and well he might,
For in the prisons of his many lands
Was there a single captive whose escape
Seemed more impossible? Help from below?
He crouched above the brink of the abyss
And tried to gauge its measureless extent
By the proportions of the things beneath;
And scanned the smoothness of the cruel rock,
Which was as vertical as is the shaft
Of a deep mine; and felt the answer,—No.
Help from above? Oh, who could find a path
Along the pathless sides of dizzy crags,
The labyrinths of ledges, he himself
Had crossed as by a miracle of God?
The prison chains which cramp and chafe the limbs,
The prison walls which slowly blunt the mind,
The prison bars which fret the pitying light,
Are full of horror and beget despair.
But this high dungeon open to the breeze,
Whose walls were space itself, whose vault was sky,
This narrow ledge, which seemed to say, “Remain
And die of thirst, and I will gently bleach
Thy unfound bones;” while cried the precipice—
“Leap; I will catch thee in my rocky lap,
“And men shall find thee and shall lay thee out
“In thy imperial robes.” Oh, this was worse!
For in the prisons of his many lands
Was there a single captive whose escape
Seemed more impossible? Help from below?
He crouched above the brink of the abyss
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By the proportions of the things beneath;
And scanned the smoothness of the cruel rock,
Which was as vertical as is the shaft
Of a deep mine; and felt the answer,—No.
Help from above? Oh, who could find a path
Along the pathless sides of dizzy crags,
The labyrinths of ledges, he himself
Had crossed as by a miracle of God?
The prison chains which cramp and chafe the limbs,
The prison walls which slowly blunt the mind,
The prison bars which fret the pitying light,
Are full of horror and beget despair.
But this high dungeon open to the breeze,
Whose walls were space itself, whose vault was sky,
This narrow ledge, which seemed to say, “Remain
And die of thirst, and I will gently bleach
Thy unfound bones;” while cried the precipice—
“Leap; I will catch thee in my rocky lap,
“And men shall find thee and shall lay thee out
“In thy imperial robes.” Oh, this was worse!
An hour had passed; the sun was rising high;
Beyond the river in the plain below
He saw the people working in the fields;
But far away, far out of reach of call;
O happy peasants, enviable boors,
Free to depart, free to return at eve
To some rude hut, while he must perish here.
And though he knew that it was all in vain,
He shouted ever loudly into space,
Watching, the while, their hoes which rose and fell
With madening monotony; until,
By that strange weakness which awakens wrath
Against a man who hears not, he at length
Reviled them as base hounds, rebellious serfs,
Who let their Lord and Master vainly call,
And fiercely stamped his foot. They heard him not,
Nor turned in his direction, working on
As deaf and imperturbable as Fate.
Beyond the river in the plain below
He saw the people working in the fields;
But far away, far out of reach of call;
O happy peasants, enviable boors,
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To some rude hut, while he must perish here.
And though he knew that it was all in vain,
He shouted ever loudly into space,
Watching, the while, their hoes which rose and fell
With madening monotony; until,
By that strange weakness which awakens wrath
Against a man who hears not, he at length
Reviled them as base hounds, rebellious serfs,
Who let their Lord and Master vainly call,
And fiercely stamped his foot. They heard him not,
Nor turned in his direction, working on
As deaf and imperturbable as Fate.
An Emperor? an Emperor no more!
Thou art discrowned by Nature, not by Man,
She holds thee firmly in her mighty grip
And will not let thee go. Thy reign is o'er.
If thou wouldst still give orders and decrees,
Address them to the Elements; rebuke
The irksome wind; make treaties with the clouds,
Send forth the birds as thy ambassadors,
For sooner will they hearken than will men.
Speak out, speak out! Let Heaven hear thy voice;
Say “I am Maximilian, whom for years
Fortune has loved to favour: I am he
Who has been chosen to exalt his race.”
Say “From the Danube to the Northern Sea,
I am the Master; and these hills are mine.”
And beg one drop of water for thy thirst!
Thou art discrowned by Nature, not by Man,
She holds thee firmly in her mighty grip
And will not let thee go. Thy reign is o'er.
If thou wouldst still give orders and decrees,
Address them to the Elements; rebuke
The irksome wind; make treaties with the clouds,
Send forth the birds as thy ambassadors,
For sooner will they hearken than will men.
Speak out, speak out! Let Heaven hear thy voice;
Say “I am Maximilian, whom for years
Fortune has loved to favour: I am he
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Say “From the Danube to the Northern Sea,
I am the Master; and these hills are mine.”
And beg one drop of water for thy thirst!
For now it was the noon; the fiery sun
Poured full and pitilessly on the rock,
Whose white and naked flank with blinding glare,
Was heating like a furnace more and more;
And not a tree, and not a jutting stone
To give him refuge; not a patch of shade
In which to crouch! O that he were but small,
And like the peeping lizard that he scared,
Could vanish in the rock. And all the while,
As if in mockery of his raging thirst,
There was that ample river at his feet,
Rolling its useless volume in his sight
Unceasingly. A single narrow cloud,
In all the vast expanse of dazzling blue,
Was slowly sailing onwards to the sun.
O welcome cloud! O kind and friendly cloud,
Miss not the mark! Diverge not from the course,
But throw a patch of shadow on this rock,
And stop the burning arrows for a while;
Or melt in natural pity and distil
A dozen drops of rain to wet his lips
Before thou passest on! But all in vain;
The fatal and inexorable cloud
Passed just below the sun.
Poured full and pitilessly on the rock,
Whose white and naked flank with blinding glare,
Was heating like a furnace more and more;
And not a tree, and not a jutting stone
To give him refuge; not a patch of shade
In which to crouch! O that he were but small,
And like the peeping lizard that he scared,
Could vanish in the rock. And all the while,
As if in mockery of his raging thirst,
There was that ample river at his feet,
Rolling its useless volume in his sight
Unceasingly. A single narrow cloud,
In all the vast expanse of dazzling blue,
Was slowly sailing onwards to the sun.
O welcome cloud! O kind and friendly cloud,
Miss not the mark! Diverge not from the course,
But throw a patch of shadow on this rock,
And stop the burning arrows for a while;
Or melt in natural pity and distil
A dozen drops of rain to wet his lips
Before thou passest on! But all in vain;
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Passed just below the sun.
More hours went by
And brought no help and counsel, brought no change,
Except the alternations of despair,
Which now was sullen, now was lashed to rage—
O hideous situation, monstrous plight!—
To die unshriven, die unreconciled,
With that strong God whom kings so much offend,
Upon this rocky death-bed all alone.
How long would death be coming? Many days?
And what a death! To be perchance attacked
By screeching eagles ere his life was fled,
And by a hundred meaner birds, for whom
No corpse will be imperial; overhead
The kites already circled round and round.
But no, it was too hideous; better far
To choose his time and leap from off the ledge
Into the other world; and once again
He crouched above the brink and peered below,
And in his fevered fancy saw himself
Disfigured at the bottom of the chasm.
But stop! but stop! what moving thing was that,
Now stopping, now advancing? was't a goat?
Ay, ay, a goat, and now another goat,
And yet another; now he counted five.
The goats implied a goat-herd; and he strained
In hopes of seeing him. Ah, there he was.
How small he looked! He gave a desperate shout,
Which made the rock re-echo, but in vain.
The other heard him not, nor raised his head.
How make him hear? There were some largish stones
Upon the ledge; he dropped one o'er the brink
And saw it reach the bottom and rebound,
And saw the goats all scamper, and the man
Start up and look and watch him, and run off,
And then return with others.
And brought no help and counsel, brought no change,
Except the alternations of despair,
Which now was sullen, now was lashed to rage—
O hideous situation, monstrous plight!—
To die unshriven, die unreconciled,
With that strong God whom kings so much offend,
Upon this rocky death-bed all alone.
How long would death be coming? Many days?
And what a death! To be perchance attacked
By screeching eagles ere his life was fled,
And by a hundred meaner birds, for whom
No corpse will be imperial; overhead
The kites already circled round and round.
But no, it was too hideous; better far
To choose his time and leap from off the ledge
Into the other world; and once again
He crouched above the brink and peered below,
And in his fevered fancy saw himself
Disfigured at the bottom of the chasm.
But stop! but stop! what moving thing was that,
Now stopping, now advancing? was't a goat?
Ay, ay, a goat, and now another goat,
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The goats implied a goat-herd; and he strained
In hopes of seeing him. Ah, there he was.
How small he looked! He gave a desperate shout,
Which made the rock re-echo, but in vain.
The other heard him not, nor raised his head.
How make him hear? There were some largish stones
Upon the ledge; he dropped one o'er the brink
And saw it reach the bottom and rebound,
And saw the goats all scamper, and the man
Start up and look and watch him, and run off,
And then return with others.
He was seen!
He was alone no longer! he had friends;
And to his heart there rushed a flood of joy,
But only for a moment; for his hope
Ebbed back with cruel quickness as he looked
Once more around him, and compared his chance,
The rock above, the precipice below.
What had he done, or what success achieved,
Except to fill the valley, and secure
Spectators for his agony? See there:
The crowd was swelling fast, and could do nought.
If all the many millions that he ruled
Were down below their zeal were no avail.
No hope,—no hope. He stripped the golden braid
From off his cap, and, taking up a stone,
He bound his tablets to it, and he wrote:
“I am the Emperor. If I must die,
Bring me the Sacraments to the rock's foot.”
And dropped it o'er the brink:
He was alone no longer! he had friends;
And to his heart there rushed a flood of joy,
But only for a moment; for his hope
Ebbed back with cruel quickness as he looked
Once more around him, and compared his chance,
The rock above, the precipice below.
What had he done, or what success achieved,
Except to fill the valley, and secure
Spectators for his agony? See there:
The crowd was swelling fast, and could do nought.
If all the many millions that he ruled
Were down below their zeal were no avail.
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From off his cap, and, taking up a stone,
He bound his tablets to it, and he wrote:
“I am the Emperor. If I must die,
Bring me the Sacraments to the rock's foot.”
And dropped it o'er the brink:
And yet, O God,
Was he so surely doomed? Did Fate exact
This monstrous death so surely? Could it be
That fortune had befriended him through life
Only to bring him to this frightful end?
Was courage helpless? Could no human foot
Repeat the passage which had brought him here?
No daring soul, to save an Emperor,
Find, once again, that faint and dizzy path
From ledge to ledge and reach the cliff above,
And lower him a rope? Among the crowd
Assembled down below were fearless men,
Old hunters of the chamois, great of heart,
Who would, he knew, dispute his life with Heaven.
Was he not here among his Tyrolese,
Who loved him as a father? Would they let
Their Maximilian die? It must be long
Since he had thrown the tablets, for the crowd
Was now immense. The sun was getting low,
But still was there; the daylight would suffice;
And all to-morrow, yea and many days,
He could withstand the hunger and the thirst,
And burning heat, if only he were sure
That he had friends at work. But what was that?
There seemed a stir among the crowd below.
What lights were those which slowly wound along
Like tapers borne by priests? What sound was that
Which faintly reached him like a chant of monks?
He saw the people bare their heads and kneel
As through their midst a slow procession past
And halted at the bottom of the rock.
It was the Host.
Was he so surely doomed? Did Fate exact
This monstrous death so surely? Could it be
That fortune had befriended him through life
Only to bring him to this frightful end?
Was courage helpless? Could no human foot
Repeat the passage which had brought him here?
No daring soul, to save an Emperor,
Find, once again, that faint and dizzy path
From ledge to ledge and reach the cliff above,
And lower him a rope? Among the crowd
Assembled down below were fearless men,
Old hunters of the chamois, great of heart,
Who would, he knew, dispute his life with Heaven.
Was he not here among his Tyrolese,
Who loved him as a father? Would they let
Their Maximilian die? It must be long
Since he had thrown the tablets, for the crowd
Was now immense. The sun was getting low,
But still was there; the daylight would suffice;
And all to-morrow, yea and many days,
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And burning heat, if only he were sure
That he had friends at work. But what was that?
There seemed a stir among the crowd below.
What lights were those which slowly wound along
Like tapers borne by priests? What sound was that
Which faintly reached him like a chant of monks?
He saw the people bare their heads and kneel
As through their midst a slow procession past
And halted at the bottom of the rock.
It was the Host.
He bowed his head to Fate,
And, kneeling on the ledge, he stretched his hands
Towards the holy symbol down below,
Which could approach no nearer. Out beyond
The sun was setting with a wondrous glow
Of such translucent colours as may shine
On angels' wings. The whole horizon seemed
Converted into glory, and the clouds,
Which streaked the sea of amber, seemed the steps
Of the Eternal Throne. He gazed awhile,
And felt his anguish mingling with the skies
In infinite solemnity and peace,
He faintly murmured, “I accept Thy will,”
And would have risen when he felt a hand
Laid gently on his shoulder. He was saved.
And, kneeling on the ledge, he stretched his hands
Towards the holy symbol down below,
Which could approach no nearer. Out beyond
The sun was setting with a wondrous glow
Of such translucent colours as may shine
On angels' wings. The whole horizon seemed
Converted into glory, and the clouds,
Which streaked the sea of amber, seemed the steps
Of the Eternal Throne. He gazed awhile,
And felt his anguish mingling with the skies
In infinite solemnity and peace,
He faintly murmured, “I accept Thy will,”
And would have risen when he felt a hand
Laid gently on his shoulder. He was saved.
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