Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FEET IN THE FIRE, by CONRAD FERDINAND MEYER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FEET IN THE FIRE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Wild lightnings flash. A tower looms in pallid light
Last Line: "my wife! And yet you live!—mine the revenge, speaks god."
Alternate Author Name(s): Meyer, Konrad


WILD lightnings flash. A tower looms in pallid light.
The thunder rolls. A rider struggles with his steed,
Dismounts and bangs upon the gate. His windblown cloak
Is flutt'ring. By the reins he holds his shy brown horse.
A barred and narrow window gleams with golden light.
The grating gate is opened by a nobleman—

—"I am the servant of the King with tidings sent
To Nimes. Oh, shelter me! You know the royal garb!"
—" 'Tis storming. You're my guest. I care not for your dress!
Step in and warm yourself. I'll look out for your horse!"
Into an old ancestral hall the horseman steps,
Lit dimly by a fire within a mighty hearth;
According to the moody flick'ring of its light
A Huguenot in armor threatens here, and there
A noblewoman proud from some brown painting old—
The horseman sinks into the armchair by the fire
And stares into the living blaze. He broods and stares—
His hair now stands on end. He knows the hearth, the hall—
The wild flames hiss. Two feet are twitching in the fire.
An aged stewardess the supper-table sets
With linen dazzling white. A noble maiden helps.
A boy brings in the jug of wine. The children's eyes
Stare at the guest in fright, in horror at the hearth—
The wild flames hiss. Two feet are twitching in the fire.
—"Damnation! 'Tis the self-same blazon—self-same hall!
Three years ago—When we were hunting Huguenots—
A fine and stubborn woman—'Where's the squire? Now tell!'
Silence. 'Confess it!' Silence. 'Show him!' Silence still.
Now I grow wild. I force the creature, pull her hard—
Her naked feet I clutch and thrust them down right deep
Into the fire—'Now give him up!'—She's silent still.
She writhes—Did you not see the blazon at the gate?
Who bade you enter here as guest, you wit-less fool?
If he has but a drop of blood he'll strangle you."
The nobleman now enters. "Dreaming! Come, and sup—"

Now there they sit. The three, all clad in garbs of black
And he. But neither of the children will say grace.
They stare at him with eyes wide open—But he fills
His cup, and spills the wine and quaffs it swiftly down,
He rises all at once: "Sir, show me now my bed!
I'm weary as a dog!" A servant lights his way;
But on the threshold glancing back he sees the boy
Whisper into his father's ear—But on he reels,
Follows the servant to the turret-chamber high.
He bolts the door, examines pistol well and sword.
The wind is shrill. The flooring shakes. The ceiling groans.
The stairway creaks—A thund'ring—now a sneaking step?
His ear is fooling him. And midnight passes by.
Lead weighs upon his lids, he sinks upon the bed
Right drowsily. Outside the rain is beating down.
He dreams. "Confess now!" Silence. "Show him!" Silence still.
He forces her. Two feet are twitching in the fire.
Up flares a hissing flood of fire devouring him—
—"Awake! You should have left here long ago! 'Tis dawn!"
For, come into the chamber through an arras-door,
Before his bed the master of the castle stands—
Gray, he whose locks but yesterday were darkest brown.

They ride across the wood. No breeze is now astir.
The broken, ruined boughs are scattered in their path.
The earliest of birds are twitt'ring, half in dreams,
And peaceful clouds are floating in the lucid air,
Like angels from a nightly watch returning home.
Dark soil is giving forth a strong and earthy scent.
The plain now opens. In the field there moves a plough.
The horseman watches from the corner of his eye:
"Sir, you are wise and prudent and you know that I
Belong as servant to the greatest King. Farewell.
We ne'er shall meet again!" The other speaks: " 'Tis true.
Belong unto the King! To serve my King today
Was hard—For you have murdered in a dev'lish way
My wife! And yet you live!—Mine the revenge, speaks God."





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