Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Apparitor of the Secret Tribunal.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
47
The Apparitor of the Secret Tribunal.
ALBERT DÜRER'S AGE.
I stole into the armourer's forge,
He could not hear me for the beat
Of his strong hammer rivetting
The gold that needs but burnishing.
(I trod with stealthy velvet feet.)
The gilded gorget all but done,
One furbish of the blazoned sun—
Of the keen biting file, one rasp—
Of the close pincers, just a grasp.
He roused the furnace; fierce, though slow,
The fading coals began to glow;
The dark and light in pulses came.
I dropped the roll, and when the flame
Came roaring back—I was away.
We meet again—perhaps to-day.
He could not hear me for the beat
Of his strong hammer rivetting
The gold that needs but burnishing.
(I trod with stealthy velvet feet.)
The gilded gorget all but done,
One furbish of the blazoned sun—
Of the keen biting file, one rasp—
Of the close pincers, just a grasp.
He roused the furnace; fierce, though slow,
The fading coals began to glow;
The dark and light in pulses came.
I dropped the roll, and when the flame
Came roaring back—I was away.
We meet again—perhaps to-day.
The painter stood with brush in hand,
Beside his work of twenty years;
His palette cracked and underfoot,
His canvas wet with passion's tears.
Behind a screen I stood to mark
The sequel of his hopes and fears.
The skeleton, hung in a frame,
Grinned at his master's lust for fame.
The Titian Venuses laughed round
From painted ceiling where they're bound.
He fell asleep. I thrust the band
That tied the roll into his hand.
Beside his work of twenty years;
His palette cracked and underfoot,
His canvas wet with passion's tears.
Behind a screen I stood to mark
The sequel of his hopes and fears.
48
Grinned at his master's lust for fame.
The Titian Venuses laughed round
From painted ceiling where they're bound.
He fell asleep. I thrust the band
That tied the roll into his hand.
The statesman at his levée sat,
A pimp was whispering in his ear;
The Seven deadly Sins stood round,
His mistress and his monk were near.
He spurned a peasant with his foot,
And all the courtiers laughed to see.
I smiled, but longed to show the scroll
Would spoil their grinning revelry.
Then with the crowd I knelt to kiss
The great man's robe, and in his sleeve
I slipped the thing. I saw him start,
A coward, smitten to the heart.
(We meet before to-morrow eve.)
But I was gone ere he could cry,
“Ho! Switzers! stop that villain spy!”
A pimp was whispering in his ear;
The Seven deadly Sins stood round,
His mistress and his monk were near.
He spurned a peasant with his foot,
And all the courtiers laughed to see.
I smiled, but longed to show the scroll
Would spoil their grinning revelry.
Then with the crowd I knelt to kiss
The great man's robe, and in his sleeve
I slipped the thing. I saw him start,
A coward, smitten to the heart.
(We meet before to-morrow eve.)
But I was gone ere he could cry,
“Ho! Switzers! stop that villain spy!”
I found the abbot at his shrine,
Aflame with candles, line on line;
The incense hid him; crossed with gold
His vestments were. I groped my way
Through mists of myrrh, to kiss his hand,
The foremost of the kneeling band;
And while the holy father turned
To where the lighted tapers burned
To bless the people, in the Pyx
I slipped the letter sealed with red—
I laughed to see his solemn tread,
His silver bell, his cross of gems,
His bows, and all his holy tricks,
His gold and ivory crucifix.
I stayed, under my hood to see
The end of all that mummery,
And just as belfries knelled the noon,
I saw the good man reel and swoon.
Aflame with candles, line on line;
The incense hid him; crossed with gold
His vestments were. I groped my way
Through mists of myrrh, to kiss his hand,
The foremost of the kneeling band;
And while the holy father turned
To where the lighted tapers burned
To bless the people, in the Pyx
I slipped the letter sealed with red—
I laughed to see his solemn tread,
His silver bell, his cross of gems,
His bows, and all his holy tricks,
His gold and ivory crucifix.
I stayed, under my hood to see
The end of all that mummery,
And just as belfries knelled the noon,
I saw the good man reel and swoon.
The chemist's spell was at its height,
A triumph filled his fading eye;
Upon one hand there fell a light,
He knew not that a friend was nigh.
A golden scum was rising fast
Within his urn of tepid glass:
A crucible with crimson oil
Began to seethe, and hiss, and boil.
He now was lord of earth and heaven,
He trod on kings—(a juggler's dream);
He saw the vassal monarchs pass,
Hailing him sage and lord (the ass!)
I threw the warning letter in,
And left the fool to guess his sin.
A triumph filled his fading eye;
Upon one hand there fell a light,
He knew not that a friend was nigh.
A golden scum was rising fast
Within his urn of tepid glass:
A crucible with crimson oil
Began to seethe, and hiss, and boil.
He now was lord of earth and heaven,
He trod on kings—(a juggler's dream);
He saw the vassal monarchs pass,
Hailing him sage and lord (the ass!)
I threw the warning letter in,
And left the fool to guess his sin.
The page was singing by the wall
Of the park terrace, blithe as May.
The mole creeped out to hear the boy;
The hawk beside him dropped his prey;
The bees grew silent in the flower;
The thorn-bush shook its snowy shower
For pleasure; rabbits came to feed
Around him, on the crop-eared mead.
I tied the notice to his hook
While he was poring o'er his book,
Heedless of float and rod—in dreams
Of Luther and his devil schemes.
Of the park terrace, blithe as May.
The mole creeped out to hear the boy;
The hawk beside him dropped his prey;
The bees grew silent in the flower;
The thorn-bush shook its snowy shower
For pleasure; rabbits came to feed
Around him, on the crop-eared mead.
I tied the notice to his hook
While he was poring o'er his book,
Heedless of float and rod—in dreams
Of Luther and his devil schemes.
The baron chattered to his hawk,
The jester teazed the kingly bird;
The children, on the terrace walk,
Were playing with a giant sword.
The baron smote his tardy grooms,
Cursed the old steward, called for wines,
And frowned—when red upon the wall,
As red as blood, the sunset shines.
It passed—night sponged it out—ah, would
Time could erase a stain of blood!
I bribed the jester with a gaud
To hand my letter to his lord.
The jester teazed the kingly bird;
The children, on the terrace walk,
Were playing with a giant sword.
The baron smote his tardy grooms,
Cursed the old steward, called for wines,
And frowned—when red upon the wall,
As red as blood, the sunset shines.
It passed—night sponged it out—ah, would
Time could erase a stain of blood!
I bribed the jester with a gaud
To hand my letter to his lord.
The merchant sat beside his bales,
Waiting for news from Helvoetsluys,
To say his ship, in spite of gales,
Had reached the port without a bruise.
Each moment turned his bloodshot eyes
Unto the doorway, where his clerks
Were weighing treasure saved from sharks,
From reef and galley, Turk and Jew,
From tempest, leak, and whirlpool blue.
Just as the windows darkened there,
I set my foot upon the stair.
“Arrived from Holland—safe—a prize,
Good tidings of the two Allies.”
I push the letter underneath
The cheating villain's chattering teeth.
He calls, impatiently, “A light!”
It comes—but I am out of sight.
I sought the leper in his hut,
Darkened with nettles: he, the boor,
The poorest of the vilest poor,
Stood groping in the slimy fen
For leeches for the fevered men
He dwelt with—doling out a hymn.
He stooped and toiled—good Lord! to see
One happy in his misery.
Such fools and slaves this heresy
Beguiles. I slipped into his creel
The warning of the rope and steel.
Waiting for news from Helvoetsluys,
To say his ship, in spite of gales,
Had reached the port without a bruise.
Each moment turned his bloodshot eyes
49
Were weighing treasure saved from sharks,
From reef and galley, Turk and Jew,
From tempest, leak, and whirlpool blue.
Just as the windows darkened there,
I set my foot upon the stair.
“Arrived from Holland—safe—a prize,
Good tidings of the two Allies.”
I push the letter underneath
The cheating villain's chattering teeth.
He calls, impatiently, “A light!”
It comes—but I am out of sight.
I sought the leper in his hut,
Darkened with nettles: he, the boor,
The poorest of the vilest poor,
Stood groping in the slimy fen
For leeches for the fevered men
He dwelt with—doling out a hymn.
He stooped and toiled—good Lord! to see
One happy in his misery.
Such fools and slaves this heresy
Beguiles. I slipped into his creel
The warning of the rope and steel.
50
So spreads the net, and such the haul
That one night's summonses will bring.
It's thus we catch the toad and eft,
And clear religion's tainted spring,
Purging the air with fires and fires,
Till, beacon-like, these ceaseless pyres
Shall burn away the Lutheran mist,
And show man heaven. Peace has kissed
Righteousness long enough, I wist.
That one night's summonses will bring.
It's thus we catch the toad and eft,
And clear religion's tainted spring,
Purging the air with fires and fires,
Till, beacon-like, these ceaseless pyres
Shall burn away the Lutheran mist,
And show man heaven. Peace has kissed
Righteousness long enough, I wist.
To-night we meet the painter fool,
The brutal baron, and the sage—
His gold dissolved; the armourer—
His work all done—upon one stage
The merchant and the alchemist—
Gold-winner and gold-maker. See
The men in black—the rope and steel,
The straining rack, the bruising wheel,
The torture-water, and the vaults
Where fools throw bloody somersaults;
So deep, no tell-tale groan can rise
To God, who watches in the skies,
With smiles, these scourgéd heresies!
The brutal baron, and the sage—
His gold dissolved; the armourer—
His work all done—upon one stage
The merchant and the alchemist—
Gold-winner and gold-maker. See
The men in black—the rope and steel,
The straining rack, the bruising wheel,
The torture-water, and the vaults
Where fools throw bloody somersaults;
So deep, no tell-tale groan can rise
To God, who watches in the skies,
With smiles, these scourgéd heresies!
To-night a pleasant company
All shaking in a row, before
The three, the ten, the six, the four,
The cross-swords, angle, star, and eye,
The open book, the mystery.
We meet—they come this very eve;
But when go hence?—nay, by your leave.
All shaking in a row, before
The three, the ten, the six, the four,
The cross-swords, angle, star, and eye,
The open book, the mystery.
We meet—they come this very eve;
But when go hence?—nay, by your leave.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |