A POET once, whose tuneful soul, perchance, Too fondly leaned toward sin, and sin's romance, On a long vanished eve, so calm and clear None could have deemed an evil spirit near, Brooding ill deeds, was summoned by a writ, In the due form of Hades, to the Pit; A red-nosed, red-haired fiend the summoner, About whose horrent head his locks did stir Like half-waked serpents! "Well," in wrath and woe, The poet cried, "whom the De'il drives @3must@1 go, Whate'er the goal! Yet much I wish that he Had sent as guide some nobler fiend than thee, Thou hideous varlet!" "Come, keep cool, I say," Counselled the other sagely, "while @3you may!@1" Whereon, as half in scorn and half in ire, He haled the poet to the realm of fire. Arrived in bounds Hadean, a vast rout Of fiends they met, who rushed tumultuous out, To roam the earth and those doomed spirits snare Who unsuspecting lived and acted there; Till in a few brief seconds the whole crew Of crowding demons -- black, brown, green and blue -- All but their haughty chief, his form upreared Through the red mist, had wildly disappeared. Then said the dark archangel to the bard: "Thine eye is bright, thou hast a shrewd regard; And, therefore, ere I likewise o'er the marge Of Hades wing my way for some brief hours, To thee I choose to delegate my powers As chief and sovereign of this kingdom dread, To which, if well thou guardest, by my head Thy recompense, when I come back, shall be A luscious tid bit, garnished daintily -- No meaner @3entree@1 than a roasted monk, (Before he's cooked we'll make the rascal drunk, @3To spice his juices!@1); or, if thou'dst prefer Yon leaner and less succulent usurer, Why, of our toil and time with trifling loss, We'll serve @3him@1 up, larded with golden sauce!" But while the absent fiends their cunning tasked To trap unwary souls, thick cloaked and masked, One entered Hades who did soon entice The heedless bard to play a game at dice, Staking the souls he held in charge thereon. The stranger played superbly -- played, and won. So, gathering round him the freed souls, with care And kind despatch, safe to the outward air He led them triumphing; and all who now Looked on his unmasked face and glorious brow Knew that St. Peter stood amongst them there. But when the devils, trooping homeward, found Their kingdom void -- its conflagrations drowned As 'twere by showers from Heaven -- such curses rose -- Like thunder bellowing through the strange repose Which late had reigned -- the poet's head whirled round, Stunned by the tumult. But ere long, with whirr And furious whizz, his right hand Lucifer Brought in such stinging contact with one cheek And then the other, that our minstrel, weak From pain and fear, sank trembling on the floor. But sternly Satan pointed to the door, Where through his faithless guard, with many a kick And echoing thump, and one swift merciless prick Of a keen pitchfork, was thrust forth in shame From out the empire of fierce grief and flame, In even more woeful plight than when he came! Then Lucifer upraised his arms and swore A mighty oath that Hades' lurid door No poet's form should ever enter more! So, brother bards, whate'er ye write or do, Be fearless. Hades holds no place for you: Since if on earth men deem your worth but small, Why there, 'tis plain, ye have no worth at all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 110. THE OASIS OF SIDI KHALED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT COWPER'S GRAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING FRANCE: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE MAID'S LAMENT; ELIZABETHAN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH by THOMAS PARNELL A PRAIRIE SUNSET by WALT WHITMAN |