The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 86

"No," quoth the Cherub: "George the Third is dead."

"And who _is_ George the Third?" replied the apostle: "_What George? what Third?_" "The King of England," said The angel. "Well! he won't find kings to jostle Him on his way; but does he wear his head?

Because the last we saw here had a tustle, And ne'er would have got into Heaven's good graces, Had he not flung his head in all our faces.

XIX.

"He was--if I remember--King of France;[510]

That head of his, which could not keep a crown On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance A claim to those of martyrs--like my own: If I had had my sword, as I had once When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; But having but my _keys_, and not my brand, I only knocked his head from out his hand.

XX.

"And then he set up such a headless howl, That all the Saints came out and took him in; And there he sits by Saint Paul, cheek by jowl;[gn]

That fellow Paul--the parvenu! The skin[511]

Of Saint Bartholomew, which makes his cowl In heaven, and upon earth redeemed his sin, So as to make a martyr, never sped Better than did this weak and wooden head.

XXI.

"But had it come up here upon its shoulders, There would have been a different tale to tell: The fellow-feeling in the Saint's beholders Seems to have acted on them like a spell; And so this very foolish head Heaven solders Back on its trunk: it may be very well, And seems the custom here to overthrow Whatever has been wisely done below."

XXII.

The Angel answered, "Peter! do not pout: The King who comes has head and all entire, And never knew much what it was about-- He did as doth the puppet--by its wire, And will be judged like all the rest, no doubt: My business and your own is not to inquire Into such matters, but to mind our cue-- Which is to act as we are bid to do."

XXIII.

While thus they spake, the angelic caravan, Arriving like a rush of mighty wind, Cleaving the fields of s.p.a.ce, as doth the swan Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde, Or Thames, or Tweed), and midst them an old man With an old soul, and both extremely blind, Halted before the gate, and, in his shroud, Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud.[512]

XXIV.

But bringing up the rear of this bright host A Spirit of a different aspect waved His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved; His brow was like the deep when tempest-tossed; Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved Eternal wrath on his immortal face, And _where_ he gazed a gloom pervaded s.p.a.ce.

XXV.

As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate Ne'er to be entered more by him or Sin, With such a glance of supernatural hate, As made Saint Peter wish himself within; He pottered[513] with his keys at a great rate, And sweated through his Apostolic skin:[go]

Of course his perspiration was but ichor, Or some such other spiritual liquor.[gp]

XXVI.

The very Cherubs huddled all together, Like birds when soars the falcon; and they felt A tingling to the tip of every feather, And formed a circle like Orion's belt Around their poor old charge; who scarce knew whither His guards had led him, though they gently dealt With royal Manes (for by many stories, And true, we learn the Angels all are Tories).

XXVII.

As things were in this posture, the gate flew Asunder, and the flas.h.i.+ng of its hinges Flung over s.p.a.ce an universal hue Of many-coloured flame, until its tinges Reached even our speck of earth, and made a new Aurora borealis spread its fringes O'er the North Pole; the same seen, when ice-bound, By Captain Parry's crew, in "Melville's Sound."[gq][514]

XXVIII.

And from the gate thrown open issued beaming A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light,[515]

Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight: My poor comparisons must needs be teeming With earthly likenesses, for here the night Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving Johanna Southcote,[516] or Bob Southey raving.[517]

XXIX.

'Twas the Archangel Michael: all men know The make of Angels and Archangels, since There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show, From the fiends' leader to the Angels' Prince.

There also are some altar-pieces, though I really can't say that they much evince One's inner notions of immortal spirits; But let the connoisseurs explain _their_ merits.

x.x.x.

Michael flew forth in glory and in good; A goodly work of him from whom all Glory And Good arise; the portal past--he stood; Before him the young Cherubs and Saints h.o.a.ry-- (I say _young_, begging to be understood By looks, not years; and should be very sorry To state, they were not older than St. Peter, But merely that they seemed a little sweeter).

x.x.xI.

The Cherubs and the Saints bowed down before That arch-angelic Hierarch, the first Of Essences angelical who wore The aspect of a G.o.d; but this ne'er nursed Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst Intrude, however glorified and high; He knew him but the Viceroy of the sky.

x.x.xII.

He and the sombre, silent Spirit met-- They knew each other both for good and ill; Such was their power, that neither could forget His former friend and future foe; but still There was a high, immortal, proud regret In either's eye, as if 'twere less their will Than destiny to make the eternal years Their date of war, and their "Champ Clos" the spheres.

x.x.xIII.

But here they were in neutral s.p.a.ce: we know From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay A heavenly visit thrice a-year or so; And that the "Sons of G.o.d," like those of clay, Must keep him company; and we might show From the same book, in how polite a way The dialogue is held between the Powers Of Good and Evil--but 'twould take up hours.

x.x.xIV.

And this is not a theologic tract,[518]

To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic, If Job be allegory or a fact, But a true narrative; and thus I pick From out the whole but such and such an act As sets aside the slightest thought of trick.

'Tis every t.i.ttle true, beyond suspicion, And accurate as any other vision.

x.x.xV.

The spirits were in neutral s.p.a.ce, before The gate of Heaven; like eastern thresholds is[519]

The place where Death's grand cause is argued o'er, And souls despatched to that world or to this; And therefore Michael and the other wore A civil aspect: though they did not kiss, Yet still between his Darkness and his Brightness There pa.s.sed a mutual glance of great politeness.

x.x.xVI.

The Archangel bowed, not like a modern beau, But with a graceful oriental bend, Pressing one radiant arm just where below[gr]

The heart in good men is supposed to tend; He turned as to an equal, not too low, But kindly; Satan met his ancient friend[gs]

With more hauteur, as might an old Castilian Poor n.o.ble meet a mushroom rich civilian.

x.x.xVII.

He merely bent his diabolic brow An instant; and then raising it, he stood In act to a.s.sert his right or wrong, and show Cause why King George by no means could or should Make out a case to be exempt from woe Eternal, more than other kings, endued With better sense and hearts, whom History mentions, Who long have "paved h.e.l.l with their good intentions."[520]

x.x.xVIII.

Michael began: "What wouldst thou with this man, Now dead, and brought before the Lord? What ill Hath he wrought since his mortal race began, That thou canst claim him? Speak! and do thy will, If it be just: if in this earthly span He hath been greatly failing to fulfil His duties as a king and mortal, say, And he is thine; if not--let him have way."

x.x.xIX.