I.

A DEAD KING.

[Ferdinand II. entered Malebolge May 22nd, 1859-1

Go down to hell. This end is good to see;
The breath is lightened and the sense at ease
Because thou art not; sense nor breath there is
In what thy body was, whose soul shall be
Chief nerve of hell's pained heart eternally.

Thou art abolished from the midst of these
That are what thou wast: Pius from his knees
Blows off the dust that flecked them, bowed for thee.
Yea, now the long-tongued slack-lipped litanies

Fail, and the priest has no more prayer to sell— Now the last Jesuit found about thee is

The beast that made thy fouler flesh his cellTime lays his finger on thee, saying, 'Cease; Here is no room for thee; go down to hell.'

II.

A YEAR AFTER.

If blood throbs yet in this that was thy face,
O thou whose soul was full of devil's faith,
If in thy flesh the worm's bite slackeneth
In some acute red pause of iron days,
Arise now, gird thee, get thee on thy ways,

Breathe off the worm that crawls and fears not

breath;

King, it may be thou shalt prevail on death; King, it may be thy soul shall find out grace.

O spirit that hast eased the place of Cain,

Weep now and howl, yea weep now sore; for this
That was thy kingdom hath spat out its king.

Wilt thou plead now with God? behold again,
Thy prayer for thy son's sake is turned to a hiss,

Thy mouth to a snake's whose slime outlives the

sting.

III.

PETER'S PENCE FROM PERUGIA.

ISCARIOT, thou grey-grown beast of blood,

Stand forth to plead; stand, while red drops run here

And there down fingers shaken with foul fear, Down the sick shivering chin that stooped and sued, Bowed to the bosom, for a little food

At Herod's hand, who smites thee cheek and ear. Cry out, Iscariot; haply he will hear; Cry, till he turn again to do thee good. Gather thy gold up, Judas, all thy gold,

And buy thee death; no Christ is here to sell, But the dead earth of poor men bought and sold, While year heaps year above thee safe in hell, To grime thy grey dishonourable head

With dusty shame, when thou art damned and dead.

IV.

PAPAL ALLOCUTION.

'Popule mi, quid tibi feci?'

WHAT hast thou done? Hark, till thine ears wax hot, Judas; for these and these things hast thou done. Thou hast made earth faint, and sickened the sweet

sun,

With fume of blood that reeks from limbs that rot; Thou hast washed thine hands and mouth, saying,' Am

I not

Clean?' and thy lips were bloody, and there was

none

To speak for man against thee, no, not one; This hast thou done to us, Iscariot.

Therefore, though thou be deaf and heaven be dumb, cry shall be from under to proclaim

A

In the ears of all who shed men's blood or sell

Pius the Ninth, Judas the Second, come

Where Boniface out of the filth and flame

Barks for his advent in the clefts of hell.*

V.

THE BURDEN OF AUSTRIA.

1866.

O DAUGHTER of pride, wasted with misery,
With all the glory that thy shame put on
Stripped off thy shame, O daughter of Babylon,
Yea, whoso be it, yea, happy shall he be
That as thou hast served us hath rewarded thee.
Blessed, who throweth against war's boundary stone
Thy warrior brood, and breaketh bone by bone
Misrule thy son, thy daughter Tyranny.

That landmark shalt thou not remove for shame,
But sitting down there in a widow's weed
Wail; for what fruit is now of thy red fame?

Have thy sons too and daughters learnt indeed
What thing it is to weep, what thing to bleed?
Is it not thou that now art but a name? *

* A geographical expression.'-Metternich of Italy.