Stricken
with terror, Sigismund recoiled
Into the open trap.
Into the open trap.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
Oh, God!
"
The troubadour turned round, and his knees shook.
One of the iron images had leapt
Down from its lifeless horse, and with drawn sword
And clank of armour, it now drove at them.
"King Ladislas and Emperor Sigismund! "
It shouted in a terrible voice that fell
Upon them like a judgment from on high.
They grovelled at its iron feet, and shrieked,
"Mercy! Oh, mercy! " And Eviradnus,
Doffing his helmet and cuirass, exclaimed,
"I am a man and not an iron ghost!
It sickens me to see such cowardice
In the two greatest conquerors of the age.
Look! I have taken all my armour off;
Meet me like men, and use what arms you will. "
"'Tis only an old man," said Ladislas.
"Hold him in front, while I strike from behind. "
Eviradnus laid down his sword, to loose
The last piece of his armour, and the Pole
Ran at him with a dagger; with one hand
The old man gripped the little king, and shook
The life out of him. Then, as Sigismund
Snatched up his sword, and left him still unarmed,
Eviradnus stooped, and, seizing the dead king,
He whirled him by the feet, like a huge club.
Stricken with terror, Sigismund recoiled
Into the open trap. Eviradnus
Flung his strange weapon after him, and they fell,
The living emperor, and the lifeless king,
Into the dark abyss. Closing the stone,
Eviradnus put on his mail, and set
The hall in order. And when he had placed
The iron image on its horse, the dawn
Gleamed through the windows, and the noise
And murmur of the people of Lusace
Coming with branches of green broom to greet
Their lady, filled the air. Mahaud awoke.
"Where is my troubadour and lute-player? "
She said. Eviradnus bent over her,
His old grey eyes shining with tenderness.
"Lady," he said, "I hope that you slept well? "
_The Temple of the Captives_
The high-priest said unto the King of Kings:
"We need a temple to commemorate
Your glorious victories. " The King of Kings
Called unto him the captives he had made,
And bade them build the temple, and he asked:
"Is there a man among you who can plan
And raise this monument unto my fame? "
"No," said they. "Kill a hundred of these slaves! "
The King of Kings exclaimed. And this was done.
One of the captives promised then to build
A temple on the mountain looking down
Upon the city of the King of Kings.
The troubadour turned round, and his knees shook.
One of the iron images had leapt
Down from its lifeless horse, and with drawn sword
And clank of armour, it now drove at them.
"King Ladislas and Emperor Sigismund! "
It shouted in a terrible voice that fell
Upon them like a judgment from on high.
They grovelled at its iron feet, and shrieked,
"Mercy! Oh, mercy! " And Eviradnus,
Doffing his helmet and cuirass, exclaimed,
"I am a man and not an iron ghost!
It sickens me to see such cowardice
In the two greatest conquerors of the age.
Look! I have taken all my armour off;
Meet me like men, and use what arms you will. "
"'Tis only an old man," said Ladislas.
"Hold him in front, while I strike from behind. "
Eviradnus laid down his sword, to loose
The last piece of his armour, and the Pole
Ran at him with a dagger; with one hand
The old man gripped the little king, and shook
The life out of him. Then, as Sigismund
Snatched up his sword, and left him still unarmed,
Eviradnus stooped, and, seizing the dead king,
He whirled him by the feet, like a huge club.
Stricken with terror, Sigismund recoiled
Into the open trap. Eviradnus
Flung his strange weapon after him, and they fell,
The living emperor, and the lifeless king,
Into the dark abyss. Closing the stone,
Eviradnus put on his mail, and set
The hall in order. And when he had placed
The iron image on its horse, the dawn
Gleamed through the windows, and the noise
And murmur of the people of Lusace
Coming with branches of green broom to greet
Their lady, filled the air. Mahaud awoke.
"Where is my troubadour and lute-player? "
She said. Eviradnus bent over her,
His old grey eyes shining with tenderness.
"Lady," he said, "I hope that you slept well? "
_The Temple of the Captives_
The high-priest said unto the King of Kings:
"We need a temple to commemorate
Your glorious victories. " The King of Kings
Called unto him the captives he had made,
And bade them build the temple, and he asked:
"Is there a man among you who can plan
And raise this monument unto my fame? "
"No," said they. "Kill a hundred of these slaves! "
The King of Kings exclaimed. And this was done.
One of the captives promised then to build
A temple on the mountain looking down
Upon the city of the King of Kings.
