Gods, Saints & Men By Eugene Lee-Hamilton ... With Ten Full-Page Illustartions Designed by Enrico Mazzanti |
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THE IMPIOUS STONE. |
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THE IMPIOUS STONE.
Three men-at-arms were playing dice,
At Lucca in the Square,
Beneath the Virgin's holy shrine,
The Virgin good and fair.
At Lucca in the Square,
Beneath the Virgin's holy shrine,
The Virgin good and fair.
An image painted in the past,
Of aspect sweet and mild,
Sustaining, on her rounded arm,
The halo-crownéd Child.
Of aspect sweet and mild,
Sustaining, on her rounded arm,
The halo-crownéd Child.
One of the players lost his stake,
And lost again, and thrice;
And, with a loud and impious oath,
He cursed the rattling dice.
And lost again, and thrice;
And, with a loud and impious oath,
He cursed the rattling dice.
And on the bench, with heavy fist,
An angry blow he struck;
“It is that Virgin there,” he cried,
“That brings me this ill luck!”
An angry blow he struck;
“It is that Virgin there,” he cried,
“That brings me this ill luck!”
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Again the rattling dice he raised,
And on the bench he tossed:
It was his last remaining coin,
And once again he lost.
And on the bench he tossed:
It was his last remaining coin,
And once again he lost.
Then, in his rage, he seized a stone
And hurled it at the shrine;
And would, so well the stone was aimed,
Have hit the Child divine.
And hurled it at the shrine;
And would, so well the stone was aimed,
Have hit the Child divine.
When, O miraculous event!
O rare and wondrous sight!
The Virgin shifted, quick as thought,
The Child from left to right.
O rare and wondrous sight!
The Virgin shifted, quick as thought,
The Child from left to right.
The stone the Virgin's shoulder struck,
Just where the Babe had stood,
And from the painted shoulder flowed,
In trickling rills, the blood.
Just where the Babe had stood,
And from the painted shoulder flowed,
In trickling rills, the blood.
The men-at-arms, with gaping face,
Beheld the shoulder bleed;
Then turned to him who in his wrath
Had done the impious deed.
Beheld the shoulder bleed;
Then turned to him who in his wrath
Had done the impious deed.
But what was not their quake and dread,
When they perceived that he
Into the pavement of the square,
Was rooted like a tree!
When they perceived that he
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Was rooted like a tree!
In vain he writhed, in vain he tugged;
In vain the air he beat;
In vain he swore blaspheming oaths,
The pavement locked his feet.
In vain the air he beat;
In vain he swore blaspheming oaths,
The pavement locked his feet.
“Atone! Atone!” his comrades cried,
“The Virgin's peace implore!”
But at the shrine he shook his fist,
And only cursed the more.
“The Virgin's peace implore!”
But at the shrine he shook his fist,
And only cursed the more.
Then sank he to his waist in earth.
He fiercely ground his teeth;
In vain he tugged, in vain he writhed;
Hell sucked him from beneath.
He fiercely ground his teeth;
In vain he tugged, in vain he writhed;
Hell sucked him from beneath.
“Atone!” his comrades cried again,
And make thy peace with Heaven;
Atone, atone! There still is time,
Thou still may'st be forgiven!”
And make thy peace with Heaven;
Atone, atone! There still is time,
Thou still may'st be forgiven!”
But with a yet more hideous oath,
Again he shouted, “No!
I'll not retract, I'll not atone,
Although to Hell I go!”
Again he shouted, “No!
I'll not retract, I'll not atone,
Although to Hell I go!”
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Above his shoulders then he sank;
His head alone remained,
A horrid and malignant head,
With eyes that rolled and strained.
His head alone remained,
A horrid and malignant head,
With eyes that rolled and strained.
And soon it disappeared as well;
The man-at-arms was gone,
Who at the Virgin's holy shrine,
Had thrown the impious stone.
The man-at-arms was gone,
Who at the Virgin's holy shrine,
Had thrown the impious stone.
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