| Merlin appears to Fortus now, Speaks of the miracle, Then sends his path another way Back to the capitol. |
| 1. How can it be each human child is born Half blind and helpless, yet so full of heart? How can it be each life-renewing morn Has blank, promise-less darkness for its start? And by what chance — or mystery or art — Could it be true the densest, darkest cloud Erupting from the blood of Britomart And Poverist appears to be endowed With one mysterious flame within its smoky shroud? 2. This flame gives light beyond the light it shows, Gives warmth much warmer than the heat it strews, And various are its colors, like the rose — Red, yellow, pink and white, in mixing hues; It hangs upon the shifting grays and blues That closely swirl around it as it glides Toward Fortus; Transfixedly he views The flickering wonder, as he abides Where awe and wonder leave him little strength besides. 3. He sees two things — both quite impossible: First, that the flame enrapturing his sight Is not merely rose-colored, strange to tell, But is in fact a rose so fiery bright That, though it burns and shows a streaming light, Within the flame somehow the flower remains — Stem, thorn, leaves, petals, red, yellow, pink, white, The colors shift, the shape somehow maintains; The flower never wastes; The fire never wanes. 4. And secondly, Fortus perceives the swirl Of densest smoke, that carries in its gloom The burning rose shows in its shape and curl A personality — for hands holds up the bloom; And by its light, and just beyond its plume, A face faintly appears, haggard and pale; Feeling as if he were searching a tomb By candlelight, Fortus peers at the frail, Sad countenance floating upon the smoldering gale. 5. At last the old eyes reach across the flame At last the specter speaks: Hello, young man, He says, then startles: How I know your name I don’t know; You are Fortus, yes? I can Say that with certainty; And as I scan My mind, so many thoughts, really a host Of busy words emerge; I did not plan A single one of them; I am almost Surprised as you to find me here, as what, a ghost? 6. What foolishness is this? Fortus exclaims. Indeed, the specter says, you cannot know The depth of perfect sleep I lost; What games These are I cannot tell; Just let me show You this array of thoughts that to and fro Now occupy my mind, for then I can, Or hope I can, be done with it and go Back to my slumber; Patience, while I scan This jangling jumble of ideas for plot or plan. 7. Fortus stands wavering; The old man thinks; The press of these events, his sorrow’s weight, The shock, are all too much, and Fortus sinks Down to the dust in an exhausted state; The ghost somehow assists to elevate Him back onto his feet. A ghost perhaps, Am I, the old thing muses, but I rate Material enough to help stave off collapse; Of course you are amazed; Let me fill in the gaps. 8. First tell, who are you? Fortus whispers, numb. My name was Merlin; Now I have no name, The vision says; The state where I am from There are no names for anything — no fame, No shame, no one to credit or to blame, Unlike this world, where once I used to dwell; Enough of this — the reason that I came To see you, all these things I have to tell Must be related; Listen now and listen well. 9. I came here from the silent heart of things As near as I can tell; Like springtime leaves, Fair weather, like the wind’s wild tumblings, Discarded stuff the universe retrieves, Like joy, surprising one who deeply grieves, Hopeless that happiness could come again; I was not sent; My coming interweaves With my departure, so we won’t know when One ends, the other starts; Time’s short, so listen, then. 10. I have no other single thing to do, Says Fortus, so I’ll listen to you talk, Not knowing if a word you say is true. Poor fellow, Merlin sighs, I would not mock Your sorrows with mere noise; For now, take stock Of what I tell you; I have hopes it will Lift up your heart somewhat, and help you walk These extra miles, and give you strength until Your sorrows reach an end, and your best hopes fulfill. 11. His gaze is fixed upon the burning flower, As inspiration blends with memory. There is so much, he says, beyond our power; We can rely on just one certainty — That nothing lasts — kind mutability Can ease our grief, if now we can’t rejoice; So listen; Let me guide you, honestly; With resurrected wisdom in my voice; I hope you will believe me when you make your choice. 12. First hear the mystery of this, my rose, This rose that flames and blossoms, shines and grieves; It burns in agony for guilty woes, Yet blooms with hopeful petals, hopeful leaves; It marks a condemnation, yet reprieves The soul that understands it cannot wilt; Most wonderful the beauty it retrieves Where blood of innocence and blood of guilt Together in one horrid pool are freshly spilt. 13. The great explosion at the northern wall Like this one here, engendered such a bloom: For here was Britomart, and there was Artegall Brought down in bloody combat to their doom; Before the thirsty dust could well consume The guilty flood of life that flowed from her, The blood that marked the sacrificial gloom Of Poverist fell down to mix and stir — Mix guilt and innocence — explosions must occur. 14. Who stands in judgment of such guiltiness? Demands Fortus: Who cleans the soul of stain? Are we not pulled like planets, regardless Of our intent into orbits of pain? If Poverist’s long hunger can explain Her treachery as innocent mischance, What then of Britomart? How is it plain That she was guilty — she, caught in a trance? Both were infected, both cured by the killing lance. 15. Our duty is to love, Merlin replies; When we are in our strength and in our stride, Yet choose betrayal and its world of lies, When we subordinate our love to pride, Embrace our grandeur, casting love aside Then we are guilty not by mere decree But in our nature, as a crashing tide Is wet, a fire is hot, a bird is free To fly — Just how this came about you now shall see. 16. Then Merlin shuts his eyes and shakes his mane And in that instant, time and place and light Shatter, fragment and fall — a blasted pane Of varicolored ice, and sudden night Surrounds and chills the warrior and the sprite. This is the hollow of a mountain’s heart, (Merlin whispers;) Look there upon the sight — The Table Round, your heroes at the start Of words and deeds enough to tear your world apart. 17. The smell of smoking pitch crowds through the cave And sometimes snapping sounds of weakling brands Whose sleepy flames with their faint flickering lave The place where elegant Prince Arthur stands His dancing shadow lapses and expands Upon the wall behind him fitfully, But no such light and no such shadow lands Upon the countenance of Fortus; He And his weird guide are guests their hosts could never see. 18. This is time past, says Merlin to the Brave: And what we see now has already been; You’ll hear the condemnation that I gave To Britomart now justified between Her very lips; Of course, if you’d not seen This for yourself you’d never credit it: How effortless the slip from grand to mean — How gross intelligence outwits the wit — How lizard selfishness in green bouquets can fit. 19. We meet, says Arthur to the circled ones, Because emergency demands we meet; Our secrecy within the heedless stones Of this high mountain, properly discreet Given the cause and pressure we must treat With haste and grave determination now; I charge you everyone — never repeat What we here discourse — whatever we endow To be done, promise to do; Everyone so vow. 20. Each one in turn swears silence and resolve With no forethought of what may come to pass — The vows are made as though they will involve But little effort — though the weighty mass Of all their world slips down a black crevasse With each lord’s low donation of consent; Insidious the practices of crass Self-serving arrogant aggrandizement! So Merlin cries, compounding Fortus’ puzzlement. 21. I’ve spoken to each individual Separately, intones Arthur the Prince; Without exception, you’ve answered the call To danger with your hearts as firm as flints, No need now to debate the issues since Each one of us has severally agreed To fill the need necessity imprints — Small time for talk — We must push on to deed; The mind must go wherever troubled thought might speed. 22. To simply say — the yeomen of the guard By their child-like affection for the Queen Have brought their low-born manners, rude and hard, Familiar chat, habiliments so mean Into the circle of the palace green; So if some democrat of pleasing face Should undertake to seize the magazine, Undo us all, and our dear Queen displace What would prevent such revolution, such disgrace? 23. To hold the surge of time somehow at bay, Merlin reflects, this is their noble plan; The workings of the world they’d wish away, The constant churning change since time began, Presuming that their clever little clan Can counteract the ceaseless pull of time; True nobles never would hold back — they’d form the van Advancing toward tomorrow; It’s their prime Claim to nobility; Now witness this, their crime. 24. Arthur proposes each assembled guest Forestall the terror that he has foretold — Not by seizure — but gently they should wrest The reigns of power from Glorianna’s hold, Demote the citizens of common mold, And so preserve the rule of quality; Control the populace, kindly enfold Them in the arms of firm paternity, And save the wayward city for posterity. 25. Consent already given by their words, The hearts of all the knights join in consent; Next comes the crossing of their silver swords, And so each knight unsheathes with this intent; The blades are smartly swung, the air is rent By shining weapons uniformly pointed To the center. We are the government! Arthur exclaims; Necessity anointed Us to re-integrate a world drifting, disjointed. 26. A sudden avalanche of crystal snow Bursts in the chamber, stopping Arthur’s speech; Tempestuous winds begin to blast and blow To drive the powder out the mountain’s breech; The knights, connected by their swords’ long reach Are frozen in their swearing attitude; The torches still give light, though each Flame struggles in a misshaped frozen hood — The chamber echoes with a laugh joyless and lewd. 27. Upon the heels of that brief winter storm The laughing Archimago treads with glee; He walks alone but for the boiling swarm Of smoky clouds, which seem a company Of phantoms clinging to his drapery; For where he walks the ice sublimes to steam, And where he passes icicles break free — The knights locked, as in some suspended dream, Their armor cobalt blue, skin pale as frozen cream. 28. My children! Archimag rasps to the knights, Your new home is my profitable world! No more for pointless quests and fruitless fights Will your bright banners henceforth be unfurled — We now are on a path subtly curled Around and over the most righteous track You trod before your wise decisions hurled Your hearts into my hands; No turning back From here — but be assured, there’s nothing you will lack. 29. Your power will be assured, assured by me; The commoners suppressed, suppressed by me; The city well secured, secured by me; Your every need addressed, addressed by me; Purchased by me, the pleasures shall be free, And freely I shall lend you liberty, For by my hand the law is ruthlessly Enforced on all but those who, close by me, Will help to keep Queen Glorianna close by me. 30. Then one by one the knights melt at his touch, And one by one their souls distort and bend Like flowers and leaves succumbing to the clutch Of Autumn at the Summer’s end; Alone together, they now comprehend — They’ll spend their lives as lifelong prisoners, As slaves, whose broken hearts can never mend, Whose soul-disease resists comforts and cures; Their swords drop from their hands, and their knees bend To show their acquiescence; So they are condemned. 31. Then just as suddenly as they had left, Fortus and Merlin stand upon the plain Where Mammon’s tent once stood, where fate bereft The Brave of his dear Poverist; The pain Of this calamity returns to him again Compounded with his knowledge of the fall Of every fine and noble champion; His grief leaves him dumbfounded and so dull He cannot move nor speak nor think at all. 32. And there beside him, shrinking in his cloak, The shade of Merlin likewise silent weeps, Twin figures on the plain the rose’s stroke Has laid waste, where no other being creeps; The blood in Fortus’ heart but faintly leaps, And weaker still wanes Merlin all the while, Til Fortus, sensing danger, dizzily steps Toward the specter, and in feeble style Pleads just as though his life and death are there on trial. 33. Speak to me, Merlin! Merlin you must speak! Never before have I more craved a word, A single word, a living sound I seek; On this dead plain not so much as a bird, Not so much as an insect can be heard, And though you speak from out of your bleak tomb The word itself is life — is life assured — One word, Merlin! One word to light this gloom That crowds my mind foreshadowing our certain doom. 34. With waning effort the exhausted sprite Lifts up his hand and throws back his grey hood; He turns to look into the low sunlight And seems to take some measure of its good; He straightens somewhat, and a ruddy flood Of color courses his cheeks, and his eyes Flash with reflections; Lifted in his mood, He whispers words mysterious and wise: Live always in the part of you that never dies. 35. Now — when you feel no part of you alive, Now — when your losses call you to your grave, There is a part of you that will survive All troubles, and provide the peace you crave; Think on your loves, the loving life that gave You happiness and meaning; Through them trace The pathway to this part of you, my Brave; There you will find what nothing can displace — Your origin in timeless stardust, timeless grace. 36. The stardust you were formed from was not born And cannot die; You are continuous With the eternal; Think how night and morn Transform the selfsame day; Delirious The changes you face; Dangerous They will certainly feel; Face down the dread; This is not magic — it’s mysterious, Not magical — not strange at all; So shed What can be shed, and live in timeless grace instead. 37. For what you are about to undertake Will scorch you to your soul this moment on; No promises, no prophecies I make — There’s nothing understood to be foregone; Much hangs here in the balance, my brave son — Each moment I contribute less — a wraith, Really, wizard no more, my help is done; You must let die with me all thoughts of death, And bring the balance our way with the weight of faith. 38. Says Fortus then: But look wherever I may I see no comfort, and my faith is faint; There is no part of me but died today With Poverist — and then to know the taint That has disgraced our knights — each one a saint In my old-time opinion of them all — No faith, I feel, but anger and complaint! And yet, says Merlin, you must heed my call — And you must go now to the city’s northern wall. 39. For there another burning flower grows Where Artegall his guilty blood spilled out; Angry Enthuzias, caught in the throes Of battle, killed him with a slashing clout; Believe me when I say I cannot doubt There’ll be more roses in the coming days; We’ll see, in fact, a flaming garden sprout Within your city’s walls and narrow ways — Yours is the task to take the Harvest of the Blaze. 38. But to what end? asks Fortus fighting tears. Merlin replies: I have no more to say; But do as I bid now, and let your fears Move you to action if just for today Your courage fails you — Now, I fade away — I’m fading as I say these last few words; Don’t fear, I’ll send some gracious help your way Such as sweet, timeless grace sometimes affords — But take this rose I give you — travel city-wards. 39. Much like a blossom at the stroke of Fall, Crumbling into itself and losing shape, Its colors fading to an ashen pall, Its leaves and petals but a brittle drape, So Merlin’s form retires into his cape, His bony hand alone he does extend, Giving the bloom to Fortus; His escape Nearly complete, he seems to blend Into the swirling, listlessly retreating wind. 40. The silence that surrounds poor Fortus then Presses heavily, a transparent pall; Oppressive light parches the once green glen With choking dryness so no voice can call For help; There is no help at all; Fortus has only to rely upon His habit of action; The city wall But dully beckons, yet it lures him on; For nothing else could move him now with Merlin gone. 41. He trudges to the dead end of the land, A line where living things resume their sway, Where birds, insects and shrubs on every hand Enjoy the gentle blessing of the day. But rather than take heart at this display, Fortus arrests himself where he has stepped, And cries out: Oh, how easily swept away Is life! And oh, how cruelly is it swept. Then he kneels down to weep as he has never wept. finis Canto iv |
| Glorianna Table of Contents |
| The Cantos |
| Appendices |