Part 6
Valour and mind form real nobility, The which bears fruit and shows a fair increase By doughty actions: these and nought but these Confer true patents of gentility. Money is false and light unless it be Bought by a man's own worthy qualities; And blood is such that its corrupt disease And ignorant pretence are foul to see. Honours that ought to yield more true a type, Europe, thou measurest by fortune still, To thy great hurt; and this thy foe perceives: He rates the tree by fruits mature and ripe, Not by mere shadows, roots, and verdant leaves:-- Why then neglect so grave a cause of ill?
XXV.
_THE PEOPLE._
_Il popolo è una bestia._
The people is a beast of muddy brain, That knows not its own force, and therefore stands Loaded with wood and stone; the powerless hands Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein: One kick would be enough to break the chain; But the beast fears, and what the child demands, It does; nor its own terror understands, Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain. Most wonderful! with its own hand it ties And gags itself--gives itself death and war For pence doled out by kings from its own store. Its own are all things between earth and heaven; But this it knows not; and if one arise To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven.
XXVI.
_CONSCIENCE._
_Seco ogni coif a è doglia._
All crime is its own torment, bearing woe To mind or body or decrease of fame; If not at once, still step by step our name Or blood or friends or fortune it brings low. But if our will do not resent the blow, We have not sinned. That penance hath no blame Which Magdalen found sweet: purging our shame, Self-punishment is virtue, all men know. The consciousness of goodness pure and whole Makes a man fully blest; but misery Springs from false conscience, blinded in its pride. This Simon Peter meant when he replied To Simon Magus, that the prescient soul Hath her own proof of immortality.
XXVII.
_THE BAD PRINCE._
_Mentola al comun corpo._
Organ of rut, not reason, is the lord Who from the body politic doth drain Lust for himself, instead of toil and pain, Leaving us lean as crickets on dry sward. Well too if he like Love would filch our hoard With pleasure to ourselves, sluicing our vein And vigour to perpetuate the strain Of life by spilth of life within us stored! Love's cheat yields joy and profit. Kings, less kind, Harm those they hoodwink; sow bare rock with seed; Nor use our waste to propagate the breed. Heaven help that body which a little mind, Housed in a head, lacking ears, tongue, and eyes, And senseless but for smell, can tyrannise!
XXVIII.
_ON ITALY._
_La gran Donna._
That Lady who to Caesar came in state Upon the Rubicon, what time she feared Ruin from those strange races who appeared Erewhile to build her empire strong and great, Now stays with limbs dispersed and lacerate, A bondslave, shorn of all her pomp revered: Nor seems it now that Dinah's shame can gird Simeon or Levi to avenge her fate. If then Jerusalem doth not repair To Nazareth or Athens, where did reign Wisdom of God or man in days of yore, None shall arise her honours to restore: For Herods are all strangers; when they swear To save the Saviour's seed, their oath is vain.
XXIX.
_TO VENICE._
_Nuova arca di Noè._
New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave Went over Italy, thou then didst save The seed of just men on the weltering surge. Here, still by discord and foul servitude Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise, Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood! Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir, Thou pride and strong support of Italy, Dial of princes, school of all things wise! Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies, With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair, Bearing alone the load of liberty.
XXX.
_TO GENOA._
_Le Ninfe d'Arno._
The nymphs of Arno; Adria's goddess-queen; Greece, where the Latin banner floated free; The lands that border on the Syrian sea; The Euxine, and fair Naples; these have been Thine, by the right of conquest; these should be Still thine by empire: Asia's broad demesne, Afric, America--realms never seen But by thy venture--all belong to thee. But thou, thyself not knowing, leavest all For a poor price to strangers; since thy head Is weak, albeit thy limbs are stout and good. Genoa, mistress of the world, recall Thy soul magnanimous! Nay, be not led Slave to base gold, thou and thy tameless brood!
XXXI.
_TO POLAND._
_Sopra i regni._
High o'er those realms that make blind chance the heir Of empire, Poland, dost thou lift thy head: For while thou mournest for thy monarch dead, Thou wilt not let his son the sceptre bear, Lest he prove weak perchance to do or dare. Yet art thou even more by luck misled, Choosing a prince of fortune, courtly-bred, Uncertain whether he will spend or spare. Oh, quit this pride! In hut or shepherd's pen Seek Cato, Minos, Numa! For of such God still makes kings in plenty: and these men Will squander little substance and gain much, Knowing that virtue and not blood shall be Their titles to true immortality.
XXXII.
_TO THE SWISS._
_Se voi più innalza._
Ye Alpine rocks! If less your peaks elate To heaven exalt you than that gift divine, Freedom; why do your children still combine To keep the despots in their stolen state? Lo, for a piece of bread from windows wide You fling your blood, taking no thought what cause, Righteous or wrong, your strength to battle draws; So is your valour spurned and vilified. All things belong to free men; but the slave Clothes and feeds poorly. Even so from you Broad lands and Malta's knighthood men withhold. Up, free yourselves, and act as heroes do! Go, take your own from tyrants, which you gave So recklessly, and they so dear have sold!
XXXIII.
_THE SAMARITAN._
_Da Roma ad Ostia._
From Rome to Ostia a poor man went; Thieves robbed and wounded him upon the way; Some monks, great saints, observed him where he lay, And left him, on their breviaries intent. A Bishop passed thereby, and careless bent To sign the cross, a blessing brief to say; But a great Cardinal, to clutch their prey, Followed the thieves, falsely benevolent. At last there came a German Lutheran, Who builds on faith, merit of works withstands; He raised and clothed and healed the dying man. Now which of these was worthiest, most humane? The heart is better than the head, kind hands Than cold lip-service; faith without works is vain. Who understands What creed is good and true for self and others?-- But none can doubt the good he doth his brothers.
XXXIV.
_HYPOCRITES._
_Nessun ti venne a dir._
Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!' And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear? The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware, Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity. Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry, Not having fashioned so devout a snare, Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are; For where the craft's small, small's the villainy; You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan Makes way before those guileful Pharisees, Though God assigned to him the higher place. Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man, But deeds and acts. How many deities Hath this false standard given the human race!
XXXV.
_SOPHISTS._
_Nessun ti verrà a dire._
'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith. But the true sons of perfidy refined Forge theologic lies the soul to blind, Calling themselves evangels of the faith. Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath, And in the cynic orgies boldly joined; His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined-- A frank fair list including life and death, For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found Less vile than those who cannot bear to see Their sink of filth laid open to the ground: Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound, Garble with lies each sentence that may be Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy.
XXXVI.
_AGAINST HYPOCRITES._
_Gli affetti di Pluton._
Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell: Christ's name is written on their brow, that those Who only view the husk, may not suppose What guile and malice harbour in the shell. O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes! Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows-- To strip those idols and to break their spell! The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign, The love I feel for truth sincere and pure, When such men triumph, make me rend my hair. How long shall folk this infamy endure-- That _he_ should be held sacred, _he_ divine, Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare?
XXXVII.
_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._
No. I.
_Vilissima progenie._
Ye vile offscourings! with unblushing face Dare ye claim sonship to our heavenly Sire, Who serve brute vices, crouching in the mire To hounds and conies, beasts that ape our race? Such truckling is called virtue by the base Hucksters of sophistry, the priest and friar,-- Gilt claws of tyrant brutes,--who lie for hire, Preaching that God delights in this disgrace. Look well, ye brainless folk! Do fathers hold Their children slaves to serfs? Do sheep obey The witless ram? Why make a beast your king? If there are no archangels, let your fold Be governed by the sense of all: why stray From men to worship every filthy thing?
XXXVIII.
_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._
No. 2.
_Dov' è la libertà._
Where are the freedom and high feats that spring From fatherhood so fair as Deity? Fleas are no sons of men, although they be Flesh-born: brave thoughts and deeds this honour bring. If princes great or small seek anything Adverse to good and God's authority, Which of you dares refuse? Nay, who is he That doth not cringe to do their pleasuring? So then with soul and blood in verity You serve base gold, vices, and worthless men-- God with lip-service only and with lies, Sunk in the slough of dire idolatry: If Ignorance begat these errors, then To Reason turn for sonship and be wise!
XXXIX.
_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._
No. 3.
_Allor potrete orar._
Then shall ye pray with every hour that flies; Thy kingdom come, and let Thy will be done On earth as in the spheres above the sun, When all we hoped and wished shall bless our eyes. Poets shall see their Age of Gold arise, Fairer than feigned in hymn or orison; Yea, all the realm by Adam's sin undone Shall be restored in sinless Paradise. Philosophers shall govern for their own That perfect commonwealth whereof they write, The which on earth as yet was never known. Judah to Sion shall return with might Of greater wonders than shook Pharaoh's throne, From Babylon, to bless the prophets' sight.
XL.
_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._
No. 1.
_THE REIGN OF ANTICHRIST._
_Mentre l'acquila invola._
While yet the eagle preys, and growls the bear; While roars the lion; while the crow defies The lamb who raised our race above the skies; While yet the dove laments to the deaf air; While, mixed with goodly wheat, darnel and tare Within the field of human nature rise;-- Let that ungodly sect, profanely wise, That scorns our hope, feed, fatten, and beware! Soon comes the day when those grim giants fell, Famed through the world, dyed deep with sanguine hue, Whom with feigned flatteries you applaud, shall be Swept from the earth, and sunk in horrid Hell, Girt round with flames, to weep and wail with you, In doleful dungeons everlastingly.
XLI.
_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._
No. 2.
_THE DOOM OF THE IMPIOUS._
_La scuola inimicissima._
You sect most adverse to the good and true, Degenerate from your origin divine, Pastured on lies and shadows by the line Of Thais, Sinon, Judas, Homer! You, Thus saith the Spirit, when the retinue Of saints with Christ returns on earth to shine, When the fifth angel's vial pours condign Vengeance with awful ire and torments due,-- You shall be girt with gloom; your lips profane, Disloyal tongues, and savage teeth shall grind And gnash with fury fell and anger vain: In Malebolge your damned souls confined On fiery marle, for increment of pain, Shall see the saved rejoice with mirth of mind.
XLII.
_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._
No. 3.
_THE GOLDEN AGE._
_Se fu nel mondo._
If men were happy in that age of gold, We yet may hope to see mild Saturn's reign; For all things that were buried live again, By time's revolving cycle forward rolled. Yet this the fox, the wolf, the crow, made bold By fraud and perfidy, deny--in vain: For God that rules, the signs in heaven, the train Of prophets, and all hearts this faith uphold. If thine and mine were banished in good sooth From honour, pleasure, and utility, The world would turn, I ween, to Paradise; Blind love to modest love with open eyes; Cunning and ignorance to living truth; And foul oppression to fraternity.
XLIII.
_THE MILLENNIUM._
_Non piaccia a Dio._
Nay, God forbid that mid these tragic throes To idle comedy my thought should bend, When torments dire and warning woes portend Of this our world the instantaneous close! The day approaches which shall discompose All earthly sects, the elements shall blend In utter ruin, and with joy shall send Just spirits to their spheres in heaven's repose. The Highest comes in Holy Land to hold His sovran court and synod sanctified, As all the psalms and prophets have foretold: The riches of his grace He will spread wide Through his own realm, that seat and chosen fold Of worship and free mercies multiplied.
XLIV.
_THE PRESENT._
_Convien al secol nostro._
Black robes befit our age. Once they were white; Next many-hued; now dark as Afric's Moor, Night-black, infernal, traitorous, obscure, Horrid with ignorance and sick with fright. For very shame we shun all colours bright, Who mourn our end--the tyrants we endure, The chains, the noose, the lead, the snares, the lure-- Our dismal heroes, our souls sunk in night. Black weeds again denote that extreme folly Which makes us blind, mournful, and woe-begone: For dusk is dear to doleful melancholy; Nathless fate's wheel still turns: this raiment dun We shall exchange hereafter for the holy Garments of white in which of yore we shone.
XLV.
_THE FUTURE._
_Veggo in candida robba._
Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire Descend to hold his court amid the band Of shining saints and elders: at his hand The white immortal Lamb commands their choir. John ends his long lament for torments dire, Now Judah's lion rises to expand The fatal book, and the first broken band Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire. The first fair spirits raimented in white Go out to meet him who on his white cloud Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow. Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo, The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight!
XLVI.
_THE YEAR 1603._
_Già sto mirando._
The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend Upon the seventh and ninth centenary, When in the Archer's realm three years shall be Added, this aeon and our age to end. Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree, Stored in the archives of eternity, And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend. O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold: The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn. God grant that I may keep this mortal breath Until I too that glorious day behold Which shall at last confound the sons of death!
XLVII.
_NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S IMAGE._
_Babel disfatta._
The golden head was Babylon; she passed: Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you, Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last. Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast; But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast. Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty, That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes! To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse Your rebel sense; for it is still your use To screen yourself with lies and sophistry.
XLVIII.
_THE DUNGEON._
_Come va al centro._
As to the centre all things that have weight Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse Runs at a venture, rash though timorous, Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate: Thus all who love high Science, from the strait Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous, Must in our haven anchor soon or late. One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme, And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete The Labyrinth, and one Hell's lowest pit. Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it, Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat.
XLIX.
_THE SAGE ON EARTH._
_Sciolto e legato._
Bound and yet free, companioned and alone, Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes: Men think me fool in this vile world of woes; God's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne. With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound; My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose: And though sometimes too great the burden grows, These pinions bear me upward from the ground. A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might: Short is all time matched with eternity: Nought than a pleasing burden is more light. My brows I bind with my love's effigy, Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read.
L.
_THE PRICE OF FREEDOM._
_D' Italia in Grecia._
From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand, Yearning for liberty, just Cato went; Nor finding freedom to his heart's content, Sought it in death, and died by his own hand. Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent His soul with poison from imprisonment; And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band. In this way died one valiant Maccabee; Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king. Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea Was yawning to engulf him, what he did He gave to God--a wise man's offering.
LI.
_APOLOGY BY PARADOX._
_Non é brutto il Demon._
The Devil's not so ugly as they paint; He's well with all, compact of courtesy: Real heroism is real piety: Before small truth great falsehoods shrink and faint If pots stain worse than pipkins, it were quaint To charge the pipkins with impurity: Freedom I crave: who craves not to be free? Yet life that must be feigned for, leaves a taint. Ill conduct brings repentance?--If you prate This wise to me, why prate not thus to all Philosophers and prophets, and to Christ? Not too much learning, as some arrogate, But the small brains of dullards have sufficed To make us wretched and the world enthrall.
LII.
_THE SOUL'S APOLOGY._
_Ben sei mila anni._
Six thousand years or more on earth I've been: Witness those histories of nations dead, Which for our age I have illustrated In philosophic volumes, scene by scene. And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head To live by.--Why not try the sun instead, If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen? If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become. The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise. When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind. The more you blow the flames, the more they rise, Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home.
LIII.
_TO GOD ON PRAYER._
_Tu che Forza ed Amor._
O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw And guide the complex of all entities, Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law; Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees, Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw: I therefore pray--I who through years have been The scorn of fools, the butt of impious men, Suffering new pains and torments day by day-- Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay; For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when I soar from hence to liberty foreseen.
LIV.
_TO GOD FOR HELP._
_Come vuoi, ch' a buon porto._
How wilt Thou I should gain a harbour fair, If after proof among my friends I find That some are faithless, some devoid of mind, Some short of sense, though stout to do and dare? If some, though wise and loyal, like the hare Hide in a hole, or fly in terror blind, While nerve with wisdom and with faith combined Through malice and through penury despair? Reason, Thy honour, and my weal eschewed That false ally who said he came from Thee, With promise vain of power and liberty. I trust:--I'll do. Change Thou the bad to good!-- But ere I raise me to that altitude, Needs must I merge in Thee as Thou in me.
LV.
To Annibale Caraccioli,
_A WRITER OF ECLOGUES._
_Non Licida, nè Driope._
Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death; Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath, Match not the Love that craves infinity. The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee: Within thy soul divine it harboureth: This also bids my spirit soar, and saith Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony. Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: From God alone let praise immense be thine. My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go Into God's school with tablets white as snow.
LVI.
_TO TELESIUS OF COSENZA._
_Telesio, il telo._
Telesius, the arrow from thy bow Midmost his band of sophists slays that high Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly: While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow. Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow, Smitten by bards elate with victory: Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe! Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene With robes translucent, light-irradiate, Restoring her to all her natural sheen; The while my tocsin at the temple-gate Of the wide universe proclaims her queen, Pythia of first and last ordained by fate.
LVII.
_TO RIDOLFO DI BINA._
_Senno ed Amor._