Then said the Angel, smiling: "If this man Be Rajah Runjeet-Sing of Hindostan, Thou hast done well in listening to his prayer;I was upon my way to seek him there."
INTERLUDE.
"O Edrehi, forbear to-night Your ghostly legends of affright, And let the Talmud rest in peace;Spare us your dismal tales of death That almost take away one's breath;So doing, may your tribe increase."
Thus the Sicilian said; then went And on the spinet's rattling keys Played Marianina, like a breeze From Naples and the Southern seas, That brings us the delicious scent Of citron and of orange trees, And memories of soft days of ease At Capri and Amalfi spent.
"Not so," the eager Poet said;
"At least, not so before I tell The story of my Azrael, An angel mortal as ourselves, Which in an ancient tome I found Upon a convent's dusty shelves, Chained with an iron chain, and bound In parchment, and with clasps of brass, Lest from its prison, some dark day, It might be stolen or steal away, While the good friars were singing mass.
"It is a tale of Charlemagne, When like a thunder-cloud, that lowers And sweeps from mountain-crest to coast, With lightning flaming through its showers, He swept across the Lombard plain, Beleaguering with his warlike train Pavia, the country's pride and boast, The City of the Hundred Towers."Thus heralded the tale began, And thus in sober measure ran.
THE POET'S TALE
CHARLEMAGNE
Olger the Dane and Desiderio, King of the Lombards, on a lofty tower Stood gazing northward o'er the rolling plains, League after league of harvests, to the foot Of the snow-crested Alps, and saw approach A mighty army, thronging all the roads That led into the city.And the King Said unto Olger, who had passed his youth As hostage at the court of France, and knew The Emperor's form and face "Is Charlemagne Among that host?" And Olger answered: "No."And still the innumerable multitude Flowed onward and increased, until the King Cried in amazement: "Surely Charlemagne Is coming in the midst of all these knights!"And Olger answered slowly: "No; not yet;
He will not come so soon." Then much disturbed King Desiderio asked: "What shall we do, if he approach with a still greater army!"And Olger answered: "When he shall appear, You will behold what manner of man he is;But what will then befall us I know not."Then came the guard that never knew repose, The Paladins of France; and at the sight The Lombard King o'ercome with terror cried:
"This must be Charlemagne!" and as before Did Olger answer: "No; not yet, not yet."And then appeared in panoply complete The Bishops and the Abbots and the Priests Of the imperial chapel, and the Counts And Desiderio could no more endure The light of day, nor yet encounter death, But sobbed aloud and said: "Let us go down And hide us in the bosom of the earth, Far from the sight and anger of a foe So terrible as this!" And Olger said:
"When you behold the harvests in the fields Shaking with fear, the Po and the Ticino Lashing the city walls with iron waves, Then may you know that Charlemagne is come.
And even as he spake, in the northwest, Lo! there uprose a black and threatening cloud, Out of whose bosom flashed the light of arms Upon the people pent up in the city;A light more terrible than any darkness;
And Charlemagne appeared;--a Man of Iron!
His helmet was of iron, and his gloves Of iron, and his breastplate and his greaves And tassets were of iron, and his shield.
In his left hand he held an iron spear, In his right hand his sword invincible.
The horse he rode on had the strength of iron, And color of iron.All who went before him Beside him and behind him, his whole host, Were armed with iron, and their hearts within them Were stronger than the armor that they wore.
The fields and all the roads were filled with iron, And points of iron glistened in the sun And shed a terror through the city streets.
This at a single glance Olger the Dane Saw from the tower, and turning to the King Exclaimed in haste: "Behold! this is the man You looked for with such eagerness!" and then Fell as one dead at Desiderio's feet.
INTERLUDE
Well pleased all listened to the tale, That drew, the Student said, its pith And marrow from the ancient myth Of some one with an iron flail;Or that portentous Man of Brass Hephaestus made in days of yore, Who stalked about the Cretan shore, And saw the ships appear and pass, And threw stones at the Argonauts, Being filled with indiscriminate ire That tangled and perplexed his thoughts;But, like a hospitable host, When strangers landed on the coast, Heated himself red-hot with fire, And hugged them in his arms, and pressed Their bodies to his burning breast.
The Poet answered: "No, not thus The legend rose; it sprang at first Out of the hunger and the thirst In all men for the marvellous.
And thus it filled and satisfied The imagination of mankind, And this ideal to the mind Was truer than historic fact.
Fancy enlarged and multiplied The tenors of the awful name Of Charlemagne, till he became Armipotent in every act, And, clothed in mystery, appeared Not what men saw, but what they feared.
