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Read Ebook: Satan Absolved: A Victorian Mystery by Blunt Wilfrid Scawen
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Ebook has 162 lines and 16463 words, and 4 pages
t to prove conformity. All's well enough with Man--most well with Christendom.
THE LORD GOD
Again thou sayest "enough." How fareth it in Rome? Hath My vicegerent rest?
GABRIEL
He sitteth as of old Enthroned in Peter's chair with glories manifold. He sang a mass this morning and I heard his prayer.
THE LORD GOD
For Peace?
GABRIEL
And Power on Earth.
THE LORD GOD
And were the monarchs there, The great ones in their place? Did all pray with one breath?
GABRIEL
Some priests and poor I saw,
SATAN
The poor he always hath.
GABRIEL
His guards, his chamberlains.
THE LORD GOD
The mighty ones, the proud, Do they not kneel together daily in one crowd? Have they no common counsel?
GABRIEL
Kings have their own needs, Demanding separate service.
SATAN
Ay, and their own creeds. One cause alone combines them, and one service--mine.
THE LORD GOD
Thou sayest?
GABRIEL
Man still is Man.
THE LORD GOD
We did redeem his line And crown him with new worship. In the ancient days His was a stubborn neck. But now he hath found grace, Being born anew. His gods he hath renounced, sayest thou? He worshippeth the Christ? What more?
GABRIEL
Nay, 'tis enow. He is justified by faith. He hath no fear of Hell Since he hath won Thy grace. All's well with Man,--most well.
THE LORD GOD
"All's well"! The fair phrase wearieth. It hath a new false ring. Truce, Gabriel, to thy word fence. Mark my questioning. Or rather no--not thou, blest Angel of all good, Herald of God's glad tidings to a world subdued, Thou lover tried of Man. I will not question thee, Lest I should tempt too sore and thou lie cravenly. Is there no other here, no drudge, to do that task And lay the secret bare, the face behind the mask? One with a soul less white, who loveth less, nay hates; One fit for a sad part, the Devil's advocate's; One who some wrong hath done, or hath been o'erborne of ill, And so hath his tongue loosed? O for Soul with will! O for one hour of Satan!
SATAN
THE LORD GOD
Thou? Here?
SATAN
A suppliant for Thy pardon, and in love, not fear, One who Thou knowest doth love Thee, ay, and more than these.
THE LORD GOD
That word was Peter's once.
SATAN
I speak no flatteries; Nor shall I Thee deny for this man nor that maid, Nor for the cock that crew.
THE LORD GOD
Thou shalt not be gainsaid. I grant thee audience. Speak.
SATAN
Alone?
THE LORD GOD
'Twere best alone. Angels, ye are dismissed. Good Satan, now say on.
SATAN
Omnipotent Lord God! Thou knowest all. I speak Only as Thy poor echo, faltering with words weak, A far-off broken sound, yet haply not unheard. Thou knowest the Worlds Thou madest, and Thine own high word Declaring they were good. Good were they in all sooth The mighty Globes Thou mouldedst in the World's fair youth, Launched silent through the void, evolving force and light. Thou gatheredst in Thy hand's grasp shards of the Infinite And churnedst them to Matter; Space concentrated, Great, glorious, everlasting. The Stars leaped and fled, As hounds, in their young strength. Yet might they not withdraw From Thy hand's leash and bond. Thou chainedst them with law. They did not sin, those Stars, change face, wax proud, rebel. Nay, they were slaves to Thee, things incorruptible. I might not tempt them from Thee.
THE LORD GOD
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