Shows me no tabard, nor a sign beside, A hearing in this presence; nor know I yet And therefore do I answer you, and thus: There were communities, scarce known by name Saving the wise, just, eloquent, were great; Where power was of God's gift, to whom he gave Supremacy of merit, the sole means And broad highway to power, that ever then Was meritoriously administered, Whilst all its instruments from first to last, A treason against nature to uphold? Whom may we now call free? whom great? whom wise? Whom innocent ?—the free are only they Whom power makes free to execute all ills Their hearts imagine; they are only great Whose passions nurse them from their cradles up Is to despise, whose aspects put to scorn Whereby to walk; the innocent, alas ! Poor innocency lies where four roads meet, A stone upon her head, a stake driven through her, For who is innocent that cares to live? doth press the very life The hand of power Of innocency out! What then remains But in the cause of nature to stand forth, And turn this frame of things the right side up? For this the hour is come, the sword is drawn, And tell your masters vainly they resist. Nature, that slept beneath their poisonous drugs, Is up and stirring, and from north and south, From east and west, from England and from France, From Germany, and Flanders, and Navarre, Shall stand against them like a beast at bay. The blood that they have shed will hide no longer And smitten with the weapons of the poor— The blacksmith's hammer and the woodsman's axe. Turns in the nostrils of enfranchised man To a sweet savour. These things come to pass SIR FLEUREANT. Sir, you are bold in prophecy, but words ARTEVELDE. You have caught my sense. Let no more words be wasted. What I said Shall be engrossed, and rendered to your hands Το spare your memories; and so farewell Unto your functions. For yourselves, I pray you Το grace our table with your company At dinner time, and taste of what we have. Meantime farewell. And you, my honoured friends Adieu till then. I will detain you. Good father, by your leave (The council breaks up. The HERALD and SIR FLEUREANT are conducted out, and only VAN ARTEVelde and FATHER JOHN remain. After a pause ARTEVELDE proceeds.) Did I say too much? What think you? was I rash? FATHER JOHN. My son, my son ! You've spoken some irrevocable words, And more, in my weak judgment, than were wise. Till now might accident have opened out A way to concord. Casualties or care Might yet have counselled peace, and was it well To send this challenge? ARTEVElde. Judge me not unheard. We have been too successful to be safe |