The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 85

'Gebir, he feared the Demons, not the G.o.ds, Though them indeed his daily face adored; And was no warrior, yet the thousand lives Squandered, as stones to exercise a sling, And the tame cruelty and cold caprice-- Oh madness of mankind! addressed, adored!'"

_Gebir_ [_Works, etc._, 1876, vii. 17].

I omit noticing some edifying Ithyphallics of Savagius, wishing to keep the proper veil over them, if his grave but somewhat indiscreet worshipper will suffer it; but certainly these teachers of "great moral lessons" are apt to be found in strange company.

THE VISION OF JUDGMENT.[500]

I.

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate: His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, So little trouble had been given of late; Not that the place by any means was full, But since the Gallic era "eighty-eight"

The Devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull, And "a pull altogether," as they say At sea--which drew most souls another way.

II.

The Angels all were singing out of tune, And hoa.r.s.e with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two,[fz]

Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, Splitting some planet with its playful tail, As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III.

The Guardian Seraphs had retired on high, Finding their charges past all care below;[ga]

Terrestrial business filled nought in the sky Save the Recording Angel's black bureau; Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply With such rapidity of vice and woe, That he had stripped off both his wings in quills, And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV.

His business so augmented of late years, That he was forced, against his will, no doubt, (Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,) For some resource to turn himself about, And claim the help of his celestial peers,[gb]

To aid him ere he should be quite worn out By the increased demand for his remarks:[gc]

Six Angels and twelve Saints were named his clerks.

V.

This was a handsome board--at least for Heaven; And yet they had even then enough to do, So many Conquerors' cars were daily driven, So many kingdoms fitted up anew; Each day, too, slew its thousands six or seven, Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo, They threw their pens down in divine disgust-- The page was so besmeared with blood and dust.[gd]

VI.

This by the way; 'tis not mine to record What Angels shrink from: even the very Devil On this occasion his own work abhorred, So surfeited with the infernal revel: Though he himself had sharpened every sword,[ge]

It almost quenched his innate thirst of evil.

(Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertion-- 'Tis, that he has both Generals in reversion.)[gf][501]

VII.

Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, Which peopled earth no better, h.e.l.l as wont, And Heaven none--they form the tyrant's lease, With nothing but new names subscribed upon't; 'Twill one day finish: meantime they increase,[gg]

"With seven heads and ten horns," and all in front, Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours are born Less formidable in the head than horn.[gh]

VIII.

In the first year of Freedom's second dawn[502]

Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn[gi]

Left him nor mental nor external sun:[503]

A better farmer ne'er brushed dew from lawn,[gj]

A worse king never left a realm undone!

He died--but left his subjects still behind, One half as mad--and t'other no less blind.[gk][504]

IX.

He died! his death made no great stir on earth: His burial made some pomp; there was profusion Of velvet--gilding--bra.s.s--and no great dearth Of aught but tears--save those shed by collusion: For these things may be bought at their true worth; Of elegy there was the due infusion-- Bought also; and the torches, cloaks and banners, Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners,[505]

X.

Formed a sepulchral melodrame. Of all The fools who flocked to swell or see the show, Who cared about the corpse? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woe, There throbbed not there a thought which pierced the pall; And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low, It seemed the mockery of h.e.l.l to fold The rottenness of eighty years in gold.[506]

XI.

So mix his body with the dust! It might Return to what it _must_ far sooner, were The natural compound left alone to fight Its way back into earth, and fire, and air; But the unnatural balsams merely blight What Nature made him at his birth, as bare As the mere million's base unmummied clay-- Yet all his spices but prolong decay.[507]

XII.

He's dead--and upper earth with him has done; He's buried; save the undertaker's bill, Or lapidary scrawl, the world is gone For him, unless he left a German will:[508]

But where's the proctor who will ask his son?

In whom his qualities are reigning still,[gl]

Except that household virtue, most uncommon, Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman.

XIII.

"G.o.d save the king!" It is a large economy In G.o.d to save the like; but if he will Be saving, all the better; for not one am I Of those who think d.a.m.nation better still:[509]

I hardly know too if not quite alone am I In this small hope of bettering future ill By circ.u.mscribing, with some slight restriction, The eternity of h.e.l.l's hot jurisdiction.

XIV.

I know this is unpopular; I know 'Tis blasphemous; I know one may be d.a.m.ned For hoping no one else may e'er be so; I know my catechism; I know we're crammed With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow; I know that all save England's Church have shammed, And that the other twice two hundred churches And synagogues have made a _d.a.m.ned_ bad purchase.

XV.

G.o.d help us all! G.o.d help me too! I am, G.o.d knows, as helpless as the Devil can wish, And not a whit more difficult to d.a.m.n, Than is to bring to land a late-hooked fish, Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb; Not that I'm fit for such a n.o.ble dish, As one day will be that immortal fry Of almost every body born to die.

XVI.

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, And nodded o'er his keys: when, lo! there came A wondrous noise he had not heard of late-- A rushing sound of wind, and stream, and flame; In short, a roar of things extremely great, Which would have made aught save a Saint exclaim; But he, with first a start and then a wink, Said, "There's another star gone out, I think!"[gm]

XVII.

But ere he could return to his repose, A Cherub flapped his right wing o'er his eyes-- At which Saint Peter yawned, and rubbed his nose: "Saint porter," said the angel, "prithee rise!"

Waving a goodly wing, which glowed, as glows An earthly peac.o.c.k's tail, with heavenly dyes: To which the saint replied, "Well, what's the matter?

"Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?"

XVIII.