Thou' It crush beneath thy feet the
smouldering
ashes
Of ruined Rome, thy mortal enemy!
Of ruined Rome, thy mortal enemy!
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
On the one side Rome is seen as
if through a fog ; on the other side, the sea. Iridion is
supported on the arm of Masinissa.
Iridion. Oh, thou that for thy sufferings I loved,
Hellas ! my Hellas ! wert thou but a shadow?
Art thou forever crushed, my cherished country,
While thy invincible foe still stands erect.
Glaring his marbles in the face of the sun,
Like the white teeth of a fierce tiger? . . .
Why am I here? Fire rages in my brain !
Thoughts gnaw my soul, as worms destroy a corpse !
i^He throws himself upon the earth. ^
Masinissa. Refresh thy forces in this morning mist ;
Drink this cool air, bathe in this strengthening light !
Iridion. Grasping my hand in thine, like iron links,
Thou'st dragged me here ! . . . I am confused ! . . .
know not . . .
Man lives but once . . . this once is past for me . . .
For I died yesterday. . . . Is all but dream ?
Masinissa. Thy course is not yet ended, O my son !
Iridion. Nay, torture me no more ! My father died
IRIDION.
439
Held in your arms ; my sister, sent by you,
Perished by her own hand in Caesar's palace;
And at your feet I lie in agony !
Is this not yet enough, stern Masinissa?
{He raises his head from the ground. ^
The innocent girl I sacrificed to you
Melted away in piteous sighs and wails.
I hear her voice still quivering in my ears;
I see her cross upon the Blue of Heaven !
Oh, if her God were greater than all gods !
What \i He were the sole Truth of the world !
Masinissa. And were it so, what wouldst thou do,
my son ?
Iridion. Dying, this broken sword still in my hand,
I would acknowledge Him, invoke, adore Him !
Masinissa {with irony). Thou'dst kneel, and say:
Father who art in Heaven,
Give life to Rome! Save those who have betrayed me 1
Deliver those who've never ceased to oppress
My Fatherland !
Iridion. No. I would kneel and pray :
Father who art in Heaven ! deign to love
My Hellas well, as I myself have loved her —
Speak, Masinissa, in this solemn hour !
You who have still deceived me, promised much,
And nothing done, making me ever wretched ;
You on whose breast my young head used to slumber;
You who even now stand o'er me like a god,
As if you had the rule of the whole universe; —
Answer ! for my brain reels and my thoughts whirl, —
Answer me quickly, truly, I conjure you !
Is Jesus Christ the Lord of Heaven and earth?
Masinissa. Thou hast said it !
Iridion. You also bear Him witness !
Masinissa. As an immortal foe, to his immortal foe I
He rules to-day the old Empyrean
And the decrepit earth ! . . . But there exist
Immensities where His name is effaced,
As my name is effaced within His Heaven !
Worlds of immortal youth there are which roll
On in confusion, full of embryos,
440
IRIDION.
Working and bringing forth in agony !
There, there are suns still without brilliancy ;
Strong future gods in chains; vast oceans, which
As yet receive no name, whose swollen waves
Forever seek, and tend toward shores of pleasure !
But He . . . He chained Himself . . . mounted a throne,
And said I Am 1 . , . And bowed His Head ! . . .
No. I deny Him not ! I see Him now !
But I turn toward the abyss of glooms, — my hopes —
Eyes wounded by His light ! . . . But from these glooms
Shall spring the victory ! Iridion, choose !
Jridion. Upon your brow is iron constancy,
The shadow of eternal suffering;
But 'midst its many wrinkles, there is not
One thought of hope ! No ! No ! From the abyss
Of gloomy centuries you'll rise no more !
You have deceived, betrayed, and ruined me !
Masinissa. Forsake me not, as cowards have forsaken
thee !
(Zf<? lifts 21 p Iridion. ^
P'loat over this abyss, and look into
The city of thy hate ! Ha ! knowest thou
Who is to tear it from thy brothers' hands.
When they, as Crimhild prophesied, shall come
To ravage Italy, to sow its soil
With salt, and plough its furrows red with blood?
The Nazarene !
And when the Purple from the Caesars falls,
Dost thou know who will seize it, wear their crown ?
The Nazarene !
In Him will be the perfidy of the Senate;
In Him will be the cruelty of the peojjle.
As an eternal heritage.
His hair is white; His heart as merciless
As that of the first Cato ; His words are sweet ;
His voice effeminate ; He fasts and [)rays.
The warriors of the North will come and sit
Like little innocent children at His feet;
And for the second time He will raise Rome
To be the god and ruler of the world !
Iridion. Alas ! how boundless my desires have been ;
I RID ION.
441
How I have labored only to destroy ;
Have sacrificed all I held dear on earth
To satiate a sacred vengeance !
As others strain to bless the souls they love,
I've strained to ruin those most dear to me !
I die, — and you come to announce to me —
To me, the dying ! — the eternal life of Rome !
Masinissa. Despair not ! for a day will surely come
When the shadow of the Cross will seem to scathe
The nations of the earth like burning heat ;
When they will seek a god 'neath newer suns.
Then He will stretch out wide His arms in vain
To press unto His heart those who abandon Him !
One after one, they will arise and say :
* ' We will no longer serve you /' '
There will be heard at all the city gates
Complaints, confusion, threats, and mutterings !
The Genius then of Rome will veil his face,
His tears, sobs, sorrows, will be infinite!
For on the Forum will be only dust ;
And ruins on the amphitheatre ;
And of the Capitol, but infamy !
And I will walk upon these desolate plains,
Inhabited by wild beasts and a few
Pale shepherds, the last denizens of Rome !
Then my long strife on earth draws near its end !
Iridion. My heart begins to beat 1 This longed-for
day,
Is it far distant? Tell me, Masinissa !
Masinissa. So far, I scarcely can myself divine it !
Iridion. Amphilochus, then was thy son a dream,
A shade astray, cast from a distant Future,
A toy too early born, the sport of Fate !
(71; Afasinissa. ) Go, Masinissa, go! Neither to thee,
Nor any other god, will I give up my soul !
Upon this rock, with my eyes fixed on Rome,
I'll die as I have lived, — in solitude of spirit !
Masinissa. Hear me, my son ! The pallor of thy
cheeks
I will give back to death, and kindle life anew;
I will restore the strength within thy fiery heart ;
38
442
IRIDION.
I will obliferate all memory of the Past,
And I will give thee ignorance of the Future !
Iriifion. Away !
Masinissa. 1 will awake a thousand keen desires,
And give a thousand powers to gratify them.
I will revive the beauties of the Past ;
All of them, ere they vanish, shall devote
Their charnis to thee ; shall burn, consume, and melt
In rapture in thine arms ! Helen of Troy,
The radiant daughter of dark Ptolemy,
Venus of Ida; all that fancy asks ! . . .
And from translucent waves and rays of flame,
Nay, even from the crawling slime of earth.
Voluptuous raptures still for thee shall glow !
Iridion. Tempt me no more !
Masinissa. . In a far-distant land
I'll give thee generations of a race
Supple, obedient 'neath the palace-roof,
But terrible upon the battle-field.
Intoxicated by their adulation,
Thou' It love thyself, as once thou hast loved Hellas.
I'll steep thee in the power desired by kings.
Teach thee their loves, and fill thee with their honors : —
Until I come to set my seal upon thee.
Saying, " The hour of eternal combat sounds ! "
Iridion. Tempt me no more, or crush these walls in
ruins ;
Destroy the accursed race that blighted Hellas !
You claim great power: renew with me the combat;
The son of Ampliilochus would conquer Rome !
Masinissa. Vainly on me thou urg'st thy prayer to-
day !
Iridion. Then not to-day I yield myself to you !
Masinissa. Hear me ! Yet hear !
Iridion. O Genius without power!
In all your boasted treasures there is naught
To tempt Iridion's soul ! He scorns them all !
He scorns you with them, for such offerings!
Masinissa. What if I could destroy the ages for thee?
Iridion. I comprehend you not.
Masinissa. If \ shpuld tear
IRIDION.
443
Thee from the hurrying waves of Time; should lay
Thee safely on the banks of this still shore;
Rock thee to sleep upon oblivion's heart,
Until these towers shall tumble into dust, —
And then awake thee, such as now thou art ?
Iridion. In Rome? when centuries have rolled away?
Masinissa. Yes. So thou shalt fulfill thy sole desire !
Thou' It crush beneath thy feet the smouldering ashes
Of ruined Rome, thy mortal enemy!
Iridion. Not when the red flames wrap the accursed
city !
Not when the brethren of my mother blow
Their vengeful horns upon the seven hills !
Masinissa. Son of Amphilochus, when shall it be?
Iridion. When of the Forum there is naught but dust,
The amphitheatre lies low in ruins,
The Capitol abased in infamy !
Masinissa. And then, my son?
Iridion. I will be yours ! Swear ! Swear !
Masinissa. I swear to thee to keep thy body safe !
I swear to put thy soul asleep ; awake it !
I swear it to thee by wbat He calls Evil ;
My only Good ! Iridion, give thy hand !
Iridion. Take the unhappy thing that fought in vain !
Masinissa. The Powers of Darkness gather round thy
head,
And the abyss, my father, hears thy oath !
Wilt thou renounce my Enemy forever?
Iridion. I will renounce . . .
What a despairing cry wails o'er my head !
Masinissa. Regard it not !
Iridion. The air is full of sighs!
That rock ! . . . Look ! Look ! . . . It breaks into a
cross ! . . .
Black drops are falling from the sky above us ! . . .
Look ! . . . they are drops of blood ! . . .
Masinissa. 'Tis nothing, son !
Iridion. A wild storm gatliers out upon yon sea !
Who calls me there ? . . . up there ! . . . farther . . .
and ever farther !
Do you not hear that voice? Alas ! alas !
444
IRIDION.
Masijiissa. And now ?
Indian. Silence!
Masinissa. Together through eternity!
Together without end, repose, hope, love,
Until the Everlasting Vengeance be fulfilled !
Jridion. I swear ! Together for eternity
When Rome is ruined, earthly vengeance full !
Masinissa. Now all is finished ! Follow me, my son.
Iridion. Whither?
Masinissa. To a cool cave upon the shore,
Covered with clustering vines and wreaths of ivy.
No crimson morning ever breaks its gloom.
No moon, no stars, no echo from the living;
No pleasure, pain, nor dreams shall haunt thee there !
Thou shalt sleep on through coming centuries,
Unconscious till I come to waken thee,
The hour my kingdom's gates open for thee !
Iridion. I follow. Rome to me ! To you, my soul !
EPILOGUE.
Son of my Thought, long centuries have rolled over
thee! Thou slumberedst through the days of Alaric,
the days of Attila ; and neither the clangor of the impe-
rial crown on the rugged brow of Charlemagne, nor the
tumult of Rienzi, the Tribune of the peoj)le, availed to
waken thee ! And the Holy Masters of the Vatican
glided by thee, one after another, as shadows past a
shade !
Eut to- day thou wilt awaken. Son of my Thought !
In the Roman Campngna the sun only shines upon
wastes of desolation, and is now sinking sadly over the
deserted plains. The long shadows of evening are creep-
ing over the burnt Avormwood of the sands and the sway-
ing reeds of the swamps. And over the lonely pines of
the hills, the cypress-trees of the valleys, the star of the
IRIDION. 445
evening — a goddess for the men of the past — rises
mournfully, and tears of dew fall here and there beneath
her. The foaming waves still play upon the sea, illu-
mined by the sunset's bloody shimmer.
The silence of a stifling heat weighs on the air ; not a
cloud, not the lightest movement in the ether; and yet
the depths of the sea are strangely stirred ; the waves,
with full and purple breasts, utter wild plaints to Heaven.
For he who dwells in the Abyss ; he who once made
the solemn promise, rises from the boiling bosom of the
waters, and moves with feet far blacker than the night
over the surging bodies of his myriad slaves.
A sombre light streams from his form, as if a darker
crimson sun went down behind him ; shadowy clouds rise
from his arms, and roll over the distant waves.
He is alone, as centuries ago ; still bearing on his brow
his immortality of age.
When he attains the shore, the unburdened sea respires !
The tired waves fall into sleep in the fast deepening
twilight !
He leaves no traces of his path as he moves by the Sam-
nite hills and seeks the hidden grotto.
There, by the power of his spells, the sleeping life be-
gins to wake in thee, O Son of Vengeance !
The sentient sleeping at thy feet begins to move and
shiver. He seems already to divine the approach of his
master. The livid scales grow brighter, rise and fall ; as
he untwines his coils, sparks flash and glitter from them
o'er thy bed of marble. Uncoiled, he rises, stands erect;
and like a blazing torch, he waits ! By his strange light
are seen the black stones of thy couch, the cliff behind
thee, thy darkened features, my Hero !
The first faint dawn of life quivers across thy brow, like
ignes-fatui over graves; but from the threshold of the
cavern, and calling on thee by thy name, a solemn voice
intones the chant of resurrection. At every triplet of the
mystic song, renewed force of life returns to thee. A
38*
446 IRIDION.
consciousness of all the ages passed since thy long sleep
began is given tliee, as thou hadst lived them all, and,
like the history of a single day, thou seest unroll before
thine eyes the cruel torments Rome has suffered, and all
the triumphs of the Cross.
The whole Past lives before thee, as if in hues of flame.
The neighing of horses, and the noise of arms; the clash
of swords; rattling of armor; the chimes of bells and
chanting of calm hymns float on around thee, splendid
and vivid, as they, in their reality, had formerly swept
by above thee, during thy centuries of slumber. Dead
Bishops pass in long procession on before thee. And
preceding each of them is a monarch, bearing upon his
shoulders the open Book of the Holy Word. They cross
and recross the Seven Hills, up and down, and down and
up, moving in ceaseless course. Over some float groups
of angels in the air, throwing down crowns of palms;
while some move on in silence and alone, bearing in the
right hand the holy symbol of redemption, and in the
left the insignia of war.
And as the hour of thy awakening draws near and nearer
still, their train grows less and less; their bands fall off;
duller sound the footfalls; whiter and whitergrow the heads
of the Lords of Rome, and more tremulous their hands.
Then above all the varied chanting peals a voice of
wondrous power; a voice of fierce command which does
not reach the skies, but which the earth re-echoes from her
inmost depths ; and this voice cries : " My son 1"
Then on the surface of the lake, over its mossy banks,
under thy cavern's vault, a flash of lightning gleams, and
the thunder of renewed life reverberates through thy dor-
mant breast. And young and beautiful, such as thou wert
in centuries long past, thou risest from thy couch of
marble. Thy flashing eyes first meet pale Dian's face
above the Latine Hills ; thou sayest : " Lo ! I am ! "
He beckons with his hand and leads thee on . . .
but the footstejjs wake no echo, and the two forms glide
over dark ravines like two black clouds.
IRIDION. 447
Thou standest in the Campagna of Rome, and nothing
veils its shame from thy keen eyes. Like myriad golden
memories twinkle the stars, as myriad mocking smiles.
The black and stagnant aqueduct, once bearing its clear
water to the city, is broken, choked ; great blocks of stone
fallen from its walls lie round like rags of vestment, or form
in heaps like gravestones, funeral piles, o'ergrovvn with
trailing vines; winds thick with dust blow over them ; and
birds of prey and night flit round with melancholy cry !
The son of centuries gazes around him, and rejoices in
the justice of his vengeance. Each ruin seems to him a
recompense. He ponders o'er the widowed amphitheatre,
the orphaned temples. He shakes the dust from his feet
where once stood the circus of Caracalla, and o'er the
mausoleum of Cecilia, the wife of Crassus. His dreadful
leader guides him ever on ; up through the street of ancient
tombs to the gates of Rome. They open, but they grate
not on their hinges ; no rattling of bolts and bars is heard ;
they enter, but the sentinels seem all asleep, supported
on their arms. Like shadows they pass by the sleeping
shadows !
Through long and lonely temples, halls, they wind
their narrow way. " Night of my love ! My only night !
My last ! Thou shinest for me with all the brilliancy of
day ! Above each wreck thou tearest the veil of shadow,
and thou deliverest ruins, trembling and naked, to the
gaze of their worst foe! Thou, moon, pierce with thy
rays these mouldering buildings ! With thy white rays
of scorn, show me the wretched remnants of Rome's few
inhabitants ! "
Under the portico of the Basilica stand two old men,
invested with a purple mantle; some monks salute them by
the name of Princes of the Church and Holy Fathers, and
on their faces may be read poverty of spirit. They enter a
chariot drawn by a])air of black and meagre horses; behind
them is a servant with a lantern, such as is held by a poor
widow o'er a child dying with hunger. And on the panels
of this carriage still remain the marks of former gilding.
448 IRIDION.
Slowly vanish the creaking wheels; slowly disappear
the bent and hoary heads.
The fearful leader says : " They are the successors of
the haughty Csesars ! That is the chariot of the Fortune
of the Capitoline ! " The son of Greece looks on and claps
his hands in triumph !
And now they climb a slope, mount a broad stairway
over mutilated steps and prostrate pillars, and enter a
desert court. And in its midst is seen the equestrian
statue of Marcus Aurelius, still stretching out his hand
in empty space. Cresar without a subject! A conqueror
without triumphal pKans! and behind him appear in the
shadow the black walls of the Capitol.
Not far from the statue is the Tarpeian rock. With
the shattered stump of his sword the young man strikes
fiercely upon the brow of the best of the Csesars. Under
the blow of the Greek blade, the Roman bronze wails
like the toll of a death-knell. To this melancholy clang
only answer the piteous cries of the owl, watching from
the pinnacles of the castle, and the bowlings of the dogs
prowling through the ruins of some desert street,
Down steps covered with mud and crumbling sand,
they descend toward the Forum: it is the " F/a Sacra,'^
the route of the Conquerors!
The arch of Septimius Severus is buried breast-high in
earth; the columns of the Temple, sunk to their throats
in mouldy rottenness, lift their sad capitals above the soil,
like heads of the damned! Other wrecks remain stand-
ing, high and solitary, on mounds, glaring nakedly out in
the ghastly symmetry of skeletons. Their cajiilals, their
flowers, their acanthus-leaves, which in their snowy white-
ness used to glitter so pitilessly upon thee in the cen-
turies past, api)ear to thee now, O my hero, begrimed and
bristling like the unkempt locks on the brow of a con-
vict. 'l"he marble cracks, and breaks from their sides;
it disappears in dust and ashes, — and thou canst recog-
nize nothing, and name nothing, in the hour of thy
triumph !
IRIDION.
449
Under the remains of this portico, two wretched beggars
are asleep, wrapped in the rags of the same cloak. In the
pale light of the moon their faces gleam like monumental
marbles; a lizard glides over their entwining arms; it flies
before thee like a leaf in the wind of autumn. In them
thou greetest the last of the Roman People on the ruins
of the Forum ! Thou strikest them with thy foot, — but
they awake not !
Thy leader guides thee through a way bordered with
dying trees: there sleep the shadows of the Palatine : there
lie the battered breasts and broken limbs of heroes; there
headless gods and demigods of jasper and of porphyry
strew the ground, rolling together in the dust! Thou
passest through the broken arch of Titus, gaping like a
great wound into the empty, desolate space beyond.
Here it seems to thee, just risen from the sleep of centuries,
that the Coliseum still stands entire: — but the terrible one
takes thy hand — and laughs convulsively !
And 'midst the deadly silence of the arena, on its silver
sands, under its long arcades with broken arches, like
formless rocks with ivy growing on their tops and gashes
through their hearts, — thou thankest Fatum for the com-
plete abasement of the seven-hilled city!
And here must end thy pilgrimage!
From the arena's sands thou art to go where millions
upon millions have before thee gone !
All that thou hadst once seen, all in which thou hadst
thyself borne a part, returns to thy remembrance. There
stood the throne of Caesar; there suffered Elsinoe; there
writhed Heliogabalus ; there conquered Alexander. Con-
tests, struggles, blood, curses, mingling with trumpets,
flutes, roll on before thee. But there is no sunshine now,
and no velarium,* whose purple folds floated about the
circus, now shades the hill of Livius. The moon alone
*Durin<:j the games in the amphitheatre, an awning called the Vela-
rium was thrown across its whole length and breadth, to shelter the
spectator from the rays of the sun.
if through a fog ; on the other side, the sea. Iridion is
supported on the arm of Masinissa.
Iridion. Oh, thou that for thy sufferings I loved,
Hellas ! my Hellas ! wert thou but a shadow?
Art thou forever crushed, my cherished country,
While thy invincible foe still stands erect.
Glaring his marbles in the face of the sun,
Like the white teeth of a fierce tiger? . . .
Why am I here? Fire rages in my brain !
Thoughts gnaw my soul, as worms destroy a corpse !
i^He throws himself upon the earth. ^
Masinissa. Refresh thy forces in this morning mist ;
Drink this cool air, bathe in this strengthening light !
Iridion. Grasping my hand in thine, like iron links,
Thou'st dragged me here ! . . . I am confused ! . . .
know not . . .
Man lives but once . . . this once is past for me . . .
For I died yesterday. . . . Is all but dream ?
Masinissa. Thy course is not yet ended, O my son !
Iridion. Nay, torture me no more ! My father died
IRIDION.
439
Held in your arms ; my sister, sent by you,
Perished by her own hand in Caesar's palace;
And at your feet I lie in agony !
Is this not yet enough, stern Masinissa?
{He raises his head from the ground. ^
The innocent girl I sacrificed to you
Melted away in piteous sighs and wails.
I hear her voice still quivering in my ears;
I see her cross upon the Blue of Heaven !
Oh, if her God were greater than all gods !
What \i He were the sole Truth of the world !
Masinissa. And were it so, what wouldst thou do,
my son ?
Iridion. Dying, this broken sword still in my hand,
I would acknowledge Him, invoke, adore Him !
Masinissa {with irony). Thou'dst kneel, and say:
Father who art in Heaven,
Give life to Rome! Save those who have betrayed me 1
Deliver those who've never ceased to oppress
My Fatherland !
Iridion. No. I would kneel and pray :
Father who art in Heaven ! deign to love
My Hellas well, as I myself have loved her —
Speak, Masinissa, in this solemn hour !
You who have still deceived me, promised much,
And nothing done, making me ever wretched ;
You on whose breast my young head used to slumber;
You who even now stand o'er me like a god,
As if you had the rule of the whole universe; —
Answer ! for my brain reels and my thoughts whirl, —
Answer me quickly, truly, I conjure you !
Is Jesus Christ the Lord of Heaven and earth?
Masinissa. Thou hast said it !
Iridion. You also bear Him witness !
Masinissa. As an immortal foe, to his immortal foe I
He rules to-day the old Empyrean
And the decrepit earth ! . . . But there exist
Immensities where His name is effaced,
As my name is effaced within His Heaven !
Worlds of immortal youth there are which roll
On in confusion, full of embryos,
440
IRIDION.
Working and bringing forth in agony !
There, there are suns still without brilliancy ;
Strong future gods in chains; vast oceans, which
As yet receive no name, whose swollen waves
Forever seek, and tend toward shores of pleasure !
But He . . . He chained Himself . . . mounted a throne,
And said I Am 1 . , . And bowed His Head ! . . .
No. I deny Him not ! I see Him now !
But I turn toward the abyss of glooms, — my hopes —
Eyes wounded by His light ! . . . But from these glooms
Shall spring the victory ! Iridion, choose !
Jridion. Upon your brow is iron constancy,
The shadow of eternal suffering;
But 'midst its many wrinkles, there is not
One thought of hope ! No ! No ! From the abyss
Of gloomy centuries you'll rise no more !
You have deceived, betrayed, and ruined me !
Masinissa. Forsake me not, as cowards have forsaken
thee !
(Zf<? lifts 21 p Iridion. ^
P'loat over this abyss, and look into
The city of thy hate ! Ha ! knowest thou
Who is to tear it from thy brothers' hands.
When they, as Crimhild prophesied, shall come
To ravage Italy, to sow its soil
With salt, and plough its furrows red with blood?
The Nazarene !
And when the Purple from the Caesars falls,
Dost thou know who will seize it, wear their crown ?
The Nazarene !
In Him will be the perfidy of the Senate;
In Him will be the cruelty of the peojjle.
As an eternal heritage.
His hair is white; His heart as merciless
As that of the first Cato ; His words are sweet ;
His voice effeminate ; He fasts and [)rays.
The warriors of the North will come and sit
Like little innocent children at His feet;
And for the second time He will raise Rome
To be the god and ruler of the world !
Iridion. Alas ! how boundless my desires have been ;
I RID ION.
441
How I have labored only to destroy ;
Have sacrificed all I held dear on earth
To satiate a sacred vengeance !
As others strain to bless the souls they love,
I've strained to ruin those most dear to me !
I die, — and you come to announce to me —
To me, the dying ! — the eternal life of Rome !
Masinissa. Despair not ! for a day will surely come
When the shadow of the Cross will seem to scathe
The nations of the earth like burning heat ;
When they will seek a god 'neath newer suns.
Then He will stretch out wide His arms in vain
To press unto His heart those who abandon Him !
One after one, they will arise and say :
* ' We will no longer serve you /' '
There will be heard at all the city gates
Complaints, confusion, threats, and mutterings !
The Genius then of Rome will veil his face,
His tears, sobs, sorrows, will be infinite!
For on the Forum will be only dust ;
And ruins on the amphitheatre ;
And of the Capitol, but infamy !
And I will walk upon these desolate plains,
Inhabited by wild beasts and a few
Pale shepherds, the last denizens of Rome !
Then my long strife on earth draws near its end !
Iridion. My heart begins to beat 1 This longed-for
day,
Is it far distant? Tell me, Masinissa !
Masinissa. So far, I scarcely can myself divine it !
Iridion. Amphilochus, then was thy son a dream,
A shade astray, cast from a distant Future,
A toy too early born, the sport of Fate !
(71; Afasinissa. ) Go, Masinissa, go! Neither to thee,
Nor any other god, will I give up my soul !
Upon this rock, with my eyes fixed on Rome,
I'll die as I have lived, — in solitude of spirit !
Masinissa. Hear me, my son ! The pallor of thy
cheeks
I will give back to death, and kindle life anew;
I will restore the strength within thy fiery heart ;
38
442
IRIDION.
I will obliferate all memory of the Past,
And I will give thee ignorance of the Future !
Iriifion. Away !
Masinissa. 1 will awake a thousand keen desires,
And give a thousand powers to gratify them.
I will revive the beauties of the Past ;
All of them, ere they vanish, shall devote
Their charnis to thee ; shall burn, consume, and melt
In rapture in thine arms ! Helen of Troy,
The radiant daughter of dark Ptolemy,
Venus of Ida; all that fancy asks ! . . .
And from translucent waves and rays of flame,
Nay, even from the crawling slime of earth.
Voluptuous raptures still for thee shall glow !
Iridion. Tempt me no more !
Masinissa. . In a far-distant land
I'll give thee generations of a race
Supple, obedient 'neath the palace-roof,
But terrible upon the battle-field.
Intoxicated by their adulation,
Thou' It love thyself, as once thou hast loved Hellas.
I'll steep thee in the power desired by kings.
Teach thee their loves, and fill thee with their honors : —
Until I come to set my seal upon thee.
Saying, " The hour of eternal combat sounds ! "
Iridion. Tempt me no more, or crush these walls in
ruins ;
Destroy the accursed race that blighted Hellas !
You claim great power: renew with me the combat;
The son of Ampliilochus would conquer Rome !
Masinissa. Vainly on me thou urg'st thy prayer to-
day !
Iridion. Then not to-day I yield myself to you !
Masinissa. Hear me ! Yet hear !
Iridion. O Genius without power!
In all your boasted treasures there is naught
To tempt Iridion's soul ! He scorns them all !
He scorns you with them, for such offerings!
Masinissa. What if I could destroy the ages for thee?
Iridion. I comprehend you not.
Masinissa. If \ shpuld tear
IRIDION.
443
Thee from the hurrying waves of Time; should lay
Thee safely on the banks of this still shore;
Rock thee to sleep upon oblivion's heart,
Until these towers shall tumble into dust, —
And then awake thee, such as now thou art ?
Iridion. In Rome? when centuries have rolled away?
Masinissa. Yes. So thou shalt fulfill thy sole desire !
Thou' It crush beneath thy feet the smouldering ashes
Of ruined Rome, thy mortal enemy!
Iridion. Not when the red flames wrap the accursed
city !
Not when the brethren of my mother blow
Their vengeful horns upon the seven hills !
Masinissa. Son of Amphilochus, when shall it be?
Iridion. When of the Forum there is naught but dust,
The amphitheatre lies low in ruins,
The Capitol abased in infamy !
Masinissa. And then, my son?
Iridion. I will be yours ! Swear ! Swear !
Masinissa. I swear to thee to keep thy body safe !
I swear to put thy soul asleep ; awake it !
I swear it to thee by wbat He calls Evil ;
My only Good ! Iridion, give thy hand !
Iridion. Take the unhappy thing that fought in vain !
Masinissa. The Powers of Darkness gather round thy
head,
And the abyss, my father, hears thy oath !
Wilt thou renounce my Enemy forever?
Iridion. I will renounce . . .
What a despairing cry wails o'er my head !
Masinissa. Regard it not !
Iridion. The air is full of sighs!
That rock ! . . . Look ! Look ! . . . It breaks into a
cross ! . . .
Black drops are falling from the sky above us ! . . .
Look ! . . . they are drops of blood ! . . .
Masinissa. 'Tis nothing, son !
Iridion. A wild storm gatliers out upon yon sea !
Who calls me there ? . . . up there ! . . . farther . . .
and ever farther !
Do you not hear that voice? Alas ! alas !
444
IRIDION.
Masijiissa. And now ?
Indian. Silence!
Masinissa. Together through eternity!
Together without end, repose, hope, love,
Until the Everlasting Vengeance be fulfilled !
Jridion. I swear ! Together for eternity
When Rome is ruined, earthly vengeance full !
Masinissa. Now all is finished ! Follow me, my son.
Iridion. Whither?
Masinissa. To a cool cave upon the shore,
Covered with clustering vines and wreaths of ivy.
No crimson morning ever breaks its gloom.
No moon, no stars, no echo from the living;
No pleasure, pain, nor dreams shall haunt thee there !
Thou shalt sleep on through coming centuries,
Unconscious till I come to waken thee,
The hour my kingdom's gates open for thee !
Iridion. I follow. Rome to me ! To you, my soul !
EPILOGUE.
Son of my Thought, long centuries have rolled over
thee! Thou slumberedst through the days of Alaric,
the days of Attila ; and neither the clangor of the impe-
rial crown on the rugged brow of Charlemagne, nor the
tumult of Rienzi, the Tribune of the peoj)le, availed to
waken thee ! And the Holy Masters of the Vatican
glided by thee, one after another, as shadows past a
shade !
Eut to- day thou wilt awaken. Son of my Thought !
In the Roman Campngna the sun only shines upon
wastes of desolation, and is now sinking sadly over the
deserted plains. The long shadows of evening are creep-
ing over the burnt Avormwood of the sands and the sway-
ing reeds of the swamps. And over the lonely pines of
the hills, the cypress-trees of the valleys, the star of the
IRIDION. 445
evening — a goddess for the men of the past — rises
mournfully, and tears of dew fall here and there beneath
her. The foaming waves still play upon the sea, illu-
mined by the sunset's bloody shimmer.
The silence of a stifling heat weighs on the air ; not a
cloud, not the lightest movement in the ether; and yet
the depths of the sea are strangely stirred ; the waves,
with full and purple breasts, utter wild plaints to Heaven.
For he who dwells in the Abyss ; he who once made
the solemn promise, rises from the boiling bosom of the
waters, and moves with feet far blacker than the night
over the surging bodies of his myriad slaves.
A sombre light streams from his form, as if a darker
crimson sun went down behind him ; shadowy clouds rise
from his arms, and roll over the distant waves.
He is alone, as centuries ago ; still bearing on his brow
his immortality of age.
When he attains the shore, the unburdened sea respires !
The tired waves fall into sleep in the fast deepening
twilight !
He leaves no traces of his path as he moves by the Sam-
nite hills and seeks the hidden grotto.
There, by the power of his spells, the sleeping life be-
gins to wake in thee, O Son of Vengeance !
The sentient sleeping at thy feet begins to move and
shiver. He seems already to divine the approach of his
master. The livid scales grow brighter, rise and fall ; as
he untwines his coils, sparks flash and glitter from them
o'er thy bed of marble. Uncoiled, he rises, stands erect;
and like a blazing torch, he waits ! By his strange light
are seen the black stones of thy couch, the cliff behind
thee, thy darkened features, my Hero !
The first faint dawn of life quivers across thy brow, like
ignes-fatui over graves; but from the threshold of the
cavern, and calling on thee by thy name, a solemn voice
intones the chant of resurrection. At every triplet of the
mystic song, renewed force of life returns to thee. A
38*
446 IRIDION.
consciousness of all the ages passed since thy long sleep
began is given tliee, as thou hadst lived them all, and,
like the history of a single day, thou seest unroll before
thine eyes the cruel torments Rome has suffered, and all
the triumphs of the Cross.
The whole Past lives before thee, as if in hues of flame.
The neighing of horses, and the noise of arms; the clash
of swords; rattling of armor; the chimes of bells and
chanting of calm hymns float on around thee, splendid
and vivid, as they, in their reality, had formerly swept
by above thee, during thy centuries of slumber. Dead
Bishops pass in long procession on before thee. And
preceding each of them is a monarch, bearing upon his
shoulders the open Book of the Holy Word. They cross
and recross the Seven Hills, up and down, and down and
up, moving in ceaseless course. Over some float groups
of angels in the air, throwing down crowns of palms;
while some move on in silence and alone, bearing in the
right hand the holy symbol of redemption, and in the
left the insignia of war.
And as the hour of thy awakening draws near and nearer
still, their train grows less and less; their bands fall off;
duller sound the footfalls; whiter and whitergrow the heads
of the Lords of Rome, and more tremulous their hands.
Then above all the varied chanting peals a voice of
wondrous power; a voice of fierce command which does
not reach the skies, but which the earth re-echoes from her
inmost depths ; and this voice cries : " My son 1"
Then on the surface of the lake, over its mossy banks,
under thy cavern's vault, a flash of lightning gleams, and
the thunder of renewed life reverberates through thy dor-
mant breast. And young and beautiful, such as thou wert
in centuries long past, thou risest from thy couch of
marble. Thy flashing eyes first meet pale Dian's face
above the Latine Hills ; thou sayest : " Lo ! I am ! "
He beckons with his hand and leads thee on . . .
but the footstejjs wake no echo, and the two forms glide
over dark ravines like two black clouds.
IRIDION. 447
Thou standest in the Campagna of Rome, and nothing
veils its shame from thy keen eyes. Like myriad golden
memories twinkle the stars, as myriad mocking smiles.
The black and stagnant aqueduct, once bearing its clear
water to the city, is broken, choked ; great blocks of stone
fallen from its walls lie round like rags of vestment, or form
in heaps like gravestones, funeral piles, o'ergrovvn with
trailing vines; winds thick with dust blow over them ; and
birds of prey and night flit round with melancholy cry !
The son of centuries gazes around him, and rejoices in
the justice of his vengeance. Each ruin seems to him a
recompense. He ponders o'er the widowed amphitheatre,
the orphaned temples. He shakes the dust from his feet
where once stood the circus of Caracalla, and o'er the
mausoleum of Cecilia, the wife of Crassus. His dreadful
leader guides him ever on ; up through the street of ancient
tombs to the gates of Rome. They open, but they grate
not on their hinges ; no rattling of bolts and bars is heard ;
they enter, but the sentinels seem all asleep, supported
on their arms. Like shadows they pass by the sleeping
shadows !
Through long and lonely temples, halls, they wind
their narrow way. " Night of my love ! My only night !
My last ! Thou shinest for me with all the brilliancy of
day ! Above each wreck thou tearest the veil of shadow,
and thou deliverest ruins, trembling and naked, to the
gaze of their worst foe! Thou, moon, pierce with thy
rays these mouldering buildings ! With thy white rays
of scorn, show me the wretched remnants of Rome's few
inhabitants ! "
Under the portico of the Basilica stand two old men,
invested with a purple mantle; some monks salute them by
the name of Princes of the Church and Holy Fathers, and
on their faces may be read poverty of spirit. They enter a
chariot drawn by a])air of black and meagre horses; behind
them is a servant with a lantern, such as is held by a poor
widow o'er a child dying with hunger. And on the panels
of this carriage still remain the marks of former gilding.
448 IRIDION.
Slowly vanish the creaking wheels; slowly disappear
the bent and hoary heads.
The fearful leader says : " They are the successors of
the haughty Csesars ! That is the chariot of the Fortune
of the Capitoline ! " The son of Greece looks on and claps
his hands in triumph !
And now they climb a slope, mount a broad stairway
over mutilated steps and prostrate pillars, and enter a
desert court. And in its midst is seen the equestrian
statue of Marcus Aurelius, still stretching out his hand
in empty space. Cresar without a subject! A conqueror
without triumphal pKans! and behind him appear in the
shadow the black walls of the Capitol.
Not far from the statue is the Tarpeian rock. With
the shattered stump of his sword the young man strikes
fiercely upon the brow of the best of the Csesars. Under
the blow of the Greek blade, the Roman bronze wails
like the toll of a death-knell. To this melancholy clang
only answer the piteous cries of the owl, watching from
the pinnacles of the castle, and the bowlings of the dogs
prowling through the ruins of some desert street,
Down steps covered with mud and crumbling sand,
they descend toward the Forum: it is the " F/a Sacra,'^
the route of the Conquerors!
The arch of Septimius Severus is buried breast-high in
earth; the columns of the Temple, sunk to their throats
in mouldy rottenness, lift their sad capitals above the soil,
like heads of the damned! Other wrecks remain stand-
ing, high and solitary, on mounds, glaring nakedly out in
the ghastly symmetry of skeletons. Their cajiilals, their
flowers, their acanthus-leaves, which in their snowy white-
ness used to glitter so pitilessly upon thee in the cen-
turies past, api)ear to thee now, O my hero, begrimed and
bristling like the unkempt locks on the brow of a con-
vict. 'l"he marble cracks, and breaks from their sides;
it disappears in dust and ashes, — and thou canst recog-
nize nothing, and name nothing, in the hour of thy
triumph !
IRIDION.
449
Under the remains of this portico, two wretched beggars
are asleep, wrapped in the rags of the same cloak. In the
pale light of the moon their faces gleam like monumental
marbles; a lizard glides over their entwining arms; it flies
before thee like a leaf in the wind of autumn. In them
thou greetest the last of the Roman People on the ruins
of the Forum ! Thou strikest them with thy foot, — but
they awake not !
Thy leader guides thee through a way bordered with
dying trees: there sleep the shadows of the Palatine : there
lie the battered breasts and broken limbs of heroes; there
headless gods and demigods of jasper and of porphyry
strew the ground, rolling together in the dust! Thou
passest through the broken arch of Titus, gaping like a
great wound into the empty, desolate space beyond.
Here it seems to thee, just risen from the sleep of centuries,
that the Coliseum still stands entire: — but the terrible one
takes thy hand — and laughs convulsively !
And 'midst the deadly silence of the arena, on its silver
sands, under its long arcades with broken arches, like
formless rocks with ivy growing on their tops and gashes
through their hearts, — thou thankest Fatum for the com-
plete abasement of the seven-hilled city!
And here must end thy pilgrimage!
From the arena's sands thou art to go where millions
upon millions have before thee gone !
All that thou hadst once seen, all in which thou hadst
thyself borne a part, returns to thy remembrance. There
stood the throne of Caesar; there suffered Elsinoe; there
writhed Heliogabalus ; there conquered Alexander. Con-
tests, struggles, blood, curses, mingling with trumpets,
flutes, roll on before thee. But there is no sunshine now,
and no velarium,* whose purple folds floated about the
circus, now shades the hill of Livius. The moon alone
*Durin<:j the games in the amphitheatre, an awning called the Vela-
rium was thrown across its whole length and breadth, to shelter the
spectator from the rays of the sun.
