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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Heretic's Tragedy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Middle-Age Interlude</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rosa mundi; seu, fulcite me floribus. A conceit of Master Gysbrecht, Canon-regular of Saint Jodocus-by-the-Bar, Ypres city. Cantuque, Virgilius. And hath often been sung at Hock-tide and festivals. Gavisus eram, Jessides.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(It would seem to be a glimpse from the burning of Jacques du Bourg-Molay, at Paris, A.D. 1314; as distorted by the refraction from Flemish brain to brain, during the course of a couple of centuries.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[Molay was Grand Master of the Templars when that order was suppressed in 1312.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PREADMONISHETH THE ABBOT DEODAET.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Lord, we look to once for all,<br> Is the Lord we should look at, all at once:<br>He knows not to vary, saith Saint Paul,<br> Nor the shadow of turning, for the nonce.<br>See him no other than as he is!<br> Give both the infinitudes their due—<br>Infinite mercy, but, I wis,<br> As infinite a justice too.<br>   [Organ: plagal-cadence.<br> As infinite a justice too.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ONE SINGETH</div><div style="margin:10px 0">John, Master of the Temple of God,<br> Falling to sin the Unknown Sin,<br>What he bought of Emperor Aldabrod,<br> He sold it to Sultan Saladin:<br>Till, caught by Pope Clement, a-buzzing there,<br> Hornet-prince of the mad wasps' hive,<br>And clipt of his wings in Paris square,<br> They bring him now to be burned alive.<br>   [And wanteth there grace of lute<br>    or clavicithern, ye shall say to<br>    confirm him who singeth—<br> We bring John now to be burned alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the midst is a goodly gallows built;<br> 'Twixt fork and fork, a stake is stuck;<br>But first they set divers tumbrils a-tilt,<br> Make a trench all round with the city muck;<br>Inside they pile log upon log, good store;<br> Faggots no few, blocks great and small,<br>Reach a man's mid-thigh, no less, no more,—<br> For they mean he should roast in the sight of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> We mean he should roast in the sight of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good sappy bavins that kindle forthwith;<br> Billets that blaze substantial and slow;<br>Pine-stump split deftly, dry as pith;<br> Larch-heart that chars to a chalk-white glow:<br>They up they hoist me John in a chafe,<br> Sling him fast like a hog to scorch,<br>Spit in his face, then leap back safe,<br>Sing "Laudes" and bid clap-to the torch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Laus deo—who bids clap-to the torch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">John of the Temple, whose fame so bragged,<br> Is burning alive in Paris square!<br>How can he curse, if his mouth is gagged?<br> Or wriggIe his neck, with a collar there?<br>Or heave his chest, which a band goes round?<br> Or threat with his fist, since his arms are spliced?<br>Or kick with his feet, now his legs are bound?<br> —Thinks John, I will call upon Jesus Christ.<br>    [Here one crosseth himself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jesus Christ—John had bought and sold,<br> Jesus Christ—John had eaten and drunk;<br>To him, the Flesh meant silver and gold.<br> (Salvā reverentiā.)<br>Now it was, "Saviour, bountiful lamb,<br> "I have roasted thee Turks, though men roast me!<br>"See thy servant, the plight wherein I am!<br> "Art thou a saviour? Save thou me!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Tis John the mocker cries, "Save thou me!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who maketh God's menace an idle word?<br> —Saith, it no more means what it proclaims,<br>Than a damsel's threat to her wanton bird?—<br> For she too prattles of ugly names.<br>—Saith, he knoweth but one thing—what he knows?<br> That God is good and the rest is breath;<br>Why else is the same styled Sharon's rose?<br> Once a rose, ever a rose, he saith.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O, John shall yet find a rose, he saith!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alack, there be roses and roses, John!<br> Some, honied of taste like your leman's tongue:<br>Some, bitter; for why? (roast gaily on!)<br> Their tree struck root in devil's-dung.<br>When Paul once reasoned of righteousness<br> And of temperance and of judgment to come,<br>Good Felix trembled, he could no less:<br> John, snickering, crook'd his wicked thumb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> What cometh to John of the wicked thumb?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ha ha, John plucketh now at his rose<br> To rid himself of a sorrow at heart!<br>Lo,—petal on petal, fierce rays unclose;<br> Anther on anther, sharp spikes outstart;<br>And with blood for dew, the bosom boils;<br> And a gust of sulphur is all its smell;<br>And lo, he is horribly in the toils<br> Of a coal-black giant flower of hell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CHORUS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> What maketh heaven, That maketh hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>X</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, as John called now, through the fire amain,<br> On the Name, he had cursed with, all his life—<br>To the Person, he bought and sold again—<br> For the Face, with his daily buffets rife—<br>Feature by feature It took its place:<br> And his voice, like a mad dog's choking bark,<br>At the steady whole of the Judge's face—<br> Died. Forth John's soul flared into the dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SUBJOINETH THE ABBOT DEODAET.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> God help all poor souls lost in the dark!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Men and Women</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116308" data-title="The Heretic's Tragedy de Robert Browning" data-description="A Middle-Age Interlude/Rosa mundi; seu, fulcite me floribus. A conceit of Master Gysbrecht, Canon-regular of Saint Jodocus-by-the-Bar, Ypres city. Cantuque, Virgilius. And hath often been sung at Hock-tide and festivals. Gavisus eram, Jessides./(I..."></div>
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