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The deep voice speaking from the visor’s grate
Proceeded–while the two in abject state
Cowered low. Joss paled, by gloom and dread o’ercast,
And Zeno trembled like a yielding mast.
“You two who listen now must recollect
The compact all your fellow-men suspect.
‘Tis this: ‘I, Satan, god of darkened sphere,
The king of gloom and winds that bring things drear,
Alliance make with my two brothers dear,
The Emperor Sigismond and Polish King
Named Ladislaeus. I to surely bring
Aid and protection to them both alway,
And never to absent myself or say
I’m weary. And yet more–I, being lord
Of sea and land, to Sigismond award
The earth; to Ladislaeus all the sea.
With this condition that they yield to me
When I the forfeit claim–the King his head,
But shall the Emperor give his soul instead.'”

Said Joss, “Is’t he?–Spectre with flashing eyes,
And art thou Satan come to us surprise?”
“Much less am I and yet much more.
Oh, kings of crimes and plots! your day is o’er,
But I your lives will only take to-day;
Beneath the talons black your souls let stay
To wrestle still.”

The pair looked stupefied
And crushed. Exchanging looks ’twas Zeno cried,
Speaking to Joss, “Now who–who can it be?”
Joss stammered, “Yes, no refuge can I see;
The doom is on us. But oh, spectre! say
Who are you?”

“I’m the judge.”

“Then mercy, pray.”
The voice replied: “God guides His chosen hand
To be th’ Avenger in your path to stand.
Your hour has sounded, nothing now indeed
Can change for you the destiny decreed,
Irrevocable quite. Yes, I looked on.
Ah! little did you think that any one
To this unwholesome gloom could knowledge bring
That Joss a kaiser was, and Zeno king.
You spoke just now–but why?–too late to plead.
The forfeit’s due and hope should all be dead.
Incurables! For you I am the grave.
Oh, miserable men! that naught can save.
Yes, Sigismond a kaiser is, and you
A king, O Ladislaeus!–it is true.
You thought of God but as a wheel to roll
Your chariot on; you who have king’s control
O’er Poland and its many towns so strong.
You, Milan’s Duke, to whom at once belong
The gold and iron crowns. You, Emperor made
By Rome, a son of Hercules ’tis said;
And you of Spartibor. And your two crowns
Are shining lights; and yet your shadow frowns
From every mountain land to trembling sea.
You are at giddy heights twin powers to be
A glory and a force for all that’s great–
But ‘neath the purple canopy of state,
Th’ expanding and triumphant arch you prize,
‘Neath royal power that sacred veils disguise,
Beneath your crowns of pearls and jewelled stars,
Beneath your exploits terrible and wars,
You, Sigismond, have but a monster been,
And, Ladislaeus, you are scoundrel seen.
Oh, degradation of the sceptre’s might
And swords–when Justice has a hand like night,
Foul and polluted; and before this thing,
This hydra, do the Temple’s hinges swing–
The throne becomes the haunt of all things base
Oh, age of infamy and foul disgrace!
Oh, starry heavens looking on the shame,
No brow but reddens with resentful flame–
And yet the silent people do not stir!
Oh, million arms! what things do you deter–
Poor sheep, whom vermin-majesties devour,
Have you not nails with strong desiring power
To rend these royalties, that you so cower?
But two are taken,–such as will amaze
E’en hell itself, when it on them shall gaze.
Ah, Sigismond and Ladislaeus, you
Were once triumphant, splendid to the view,
Stifling with your prosperity–but now
The hour of retribution lays you low.
Ah, do the vulture and the crocodile
Shed tears! At such a sight I fain must smile.
It seems to me ’tis very good sometimes
That princes, conquerors stained with bandits’ crimes,
Sparkling with splendor, wearing crowns of gold,
Should know the deadly sweat endured of old,
That of Jehoshaphat; should sob and fear,
And after crime th’ unclean be brought to bear.
‘Tis well–God rules–and thus it is that I
These masters of the world can make to lie
In ashes at my feet. And this was he
Who reigned–and this a Caesar known to be!
In truth, my old heart aches with very shame
To see such cravens with such noble name.
But let us finish–what has just passed here
Demands thick shrouding, and the time is near.
Th’ accursed dice that rolled at Calvary
You rolled a woman’s murder to decree
It was a dark disastrous game to play;
But not for me a moral to essay.
This moment to the misty grave is due,
And far too vile and little human you
To see your evil ways. Your fingers lack
The human power your shocking deeds to track.
What use in darkness mirror to uphold?
What use your doings to be now retold?
Drink of the darkness–greedy of the ill
To which from habit you’re attracted still,
Not recognizing in the draught you take
The stench that your atrocities must make.
I only tell you that this burdened age
Tires of your Highnesses, that soil its page,
And of your villanies–and this is why
You now must swell the stream that passes by
Of refuse filth. Oh, horrid scene to show
Of these young men and that young girl just now!
Oh! can you really be of human kind
Breathing pure air of heaven? Do we find
That you are men? Oh, no! for when you laid
Foul lips upon the mouth of sleeping maid,
You seemed but ghouls that had come furtively
From out the tombs; only a horrid lie
Your human shape; of some strange frightful beast
You have the soul. To darkness I at least
Remit you now. Oh, murderer Sigismond
And Ladislaeus pirate, both beyond
Release–two demons that have broken ban!
Therefore ’tis time their empire over man
And converse with the living, should be o’er;
Tyrants, behold your tomb your eyes before;
Vampires and dogs, your sepulchre is here.
Enter.”