And there, with cabalistic lore profound,
Summon the princes of the infernal coasts,
Or break with potent words the hallow'd ground,
Waking from death's long sleep unbodied ghosts;
Then deep mysterious converse hold, till sound
Of earliest cock dispersed the shadowy hosts:
So Turpin writes, and, if you doubt the tale
By me affirm'd, let Turpin's words prevail.
When false Maganza to the imperial throne (3)
The peaceful answer of Marsilius bore,
Many a brave peer, for faith and courage known,
Doubted a fraud in every smile he wore ;
But chiefly Malagigi, whether prone
By cautious nature to suspect, or more
Than others knew by art superior taught,
Freely proclaim'd the peace with treason fraught.
And then, since Charles, unheeding all he told,
And fondly trusting a false favourite's tale,
His mandate sent to Clermont's lord, to hold
That solemn meeting in the appointed vale,
With stern despight that would not be controll'd
The enchanter sought,, beneath the moonlight pale,
Montalban's towers, and there deep ponder'd o'er,
Night following night, his strange mysterious lore.
Down in the infernal cavern's deepest place
His mansion holds a spirit wise and strong (*)
And terrible; of his abandon'd race
Moves none more black those dismal courts among :
Yet over him, by Heaven's eternal grace,
The more to humble that rebellious throng,
Have magic charms permitted power to quell
His savage force with adamantine spell.
Him Malagigi summon'd: by his voice
Compell'd, the dæmon rose; but fiercer far
Than subject spirit suits; as if the choice
He had to serve, or wage vindictive war.
He smiled, as devils smile when they rejoice,-
Such smile as murderers in their vengeance wear.-
That smile the enchanter mark'd, and felt the hour
Draw nigh when he must render back his power.
Shuddering he mark'd, but soon collected spoke:
"Not yet, oh Astaroth!-not yet the day
That frees immortals from my earthly yoke :
Still art thou bound, and still thou must obey.
Hear then my last command! Henceforth be broke
The mighty spell, and melt in air away (3),
So now my potent bidding thou fulfil-
Hear then, submissive! hear, and do my will!
"First teach me, for thou canst, since Charles hath gone, Reckless of danger, to the coast of Spain,
And he, the great defender of his throne,
Abides the Moor on Roncesvalles' plain,
What doom is in the rolls of fate foreshown?
What is the doom of France and Charlemain ?
Say-doth the dæmon of destruction lower,
With treason leagued, o'er all the Christian power?"
"Master!-so still thou art !"-the fiend replied,— (For that determined voice recall'd the day When magic bound for his rebellious pride Seven years within the rifted rock he lay,)— "Things are there in the womb of fate denied To spiritual ken as sense of mortal clay : The past and present are our own; but eye Of creature never pierced futurity (").
"Darkly indeed and doubtfully we trace
Shadows that flit behind the eternal veil,
Sometimes we view them imaged in the face
Of outer heaven in colours dim and pale,
But nothing certain. Had Almighty Grace (7)
Thrown such a weight of knowledge in our scale,
How should the boaster, Man, elude our powers?
No,-God hath clipp'd our wings, or the wide world
were ours (8).
"Think'st thou, if Lucifer himself, the first (9),
As once in heaven, so now in lowest hell,
Could pierce that sacred veil, that he had durst
Claim power supreme, and, claiming it, rebel ?-
Or we those easier chains of wrath had burst
To make our second fall more damnable?
No, no: all knowledge is to angels known,-
All, but the future: that is God's alone.
"Yet what I can my master may command.
Know then that all the circling air is dense (1)
With spirits, each his astrolabe in hand,
Searching the hidden ways of Providence.
For from his throne in Scorpio o'er the land
Now gloomy Mars sheds baleful influence,
Portending chances terrible and strange,
Treason and blood to man,-to empires change.
"Yes, in that heavenly sign I see pourtray'd
The massacre of nations, and the fall
Of mighty states, and man by man betray'd,
And many a prince's bloody funeral.
Hast thou not mark'd yon comet, that array'd
In sanguine lustre rules this nightly ball?
All this and worse that sanguine beam foreshows,——
A long interminable train of woes.
"Thus far into the future can I see,—
And only thus,-for, what conclusion thence
The mind may draw, it open lies to thee
As much as to the keenest spiritual sense.
But, for the things that were and those that be,
Somewhat to me my searching sight presents,
To thee unknown, that may, if rightly told,
More of hereafter to thy mind unfold.
Know then, when Poictiers' traitorous lord was sent With courteous phrase the Moorish chief to greet(''), Veiling in honest show his base intent, As if by Charles deliver'd, at his feet He dared pronounce so rude a compliment, So full of threats for sovereign's ear unmeet, That proud Marsilius, swelling with disdain, Hurl'd back defiance stern to Charlemain.
"And when thus apt for vengeance, hot for blood,
The prince he found, this wily traitor knew
By weaving phrases of more courtly mood,
Unto his damned purpose to subdue
And mould that tiger soul. It were not good,
He said, such insolent mockery to pursue
With open vengeance, which might miss its blow:
No, make the example terrible though slow.
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