The Murderer's Reply
Within an English court a prisoner stood,
Pale but regardless of the gazing crowd.
His brow was high, his temples sunk and veined;
His countenance wearied, as with mental toils
And long-borne burdens — more than man should bear.
Thus to his judge with listless mien he spoke:
" My lord, you ask me what I have to say.
Why this: The laws of God and man alike
Read " blood for blood"; and I have taken life:
And therefore in all justice I should die.
" Yes, " blood for blood," — three twelvemonths back or so
Our king — God bless him and forgive his faults —
Was very angry, for the King of France
Had cut some trunks of logwood in Balize.
" He must have been quite angry, for it took
For every tree a bleeding human heart,
A priceless soul sent to its last account,
To pacify his spirit, — yet he reigns.
" But let that pass. The murdered man and I
Were schoolfellows together; conned one book,
Slept in one bed, and joined in boyish games.
Was it a wonder that we loved one maid?
" Then, as we older grew, our paths diverged,
But not our love for her. He had become
A prosperous merchant, of whom all the town
Prophesied well; and I , a pedagogue.
" My talent — for I had it — was outstripped
In all things by his tact, — in all save one:
For Mary's love was mine, and we were wed:
And from that hour he was my bitter foe.
" He grew to be the county's wealthiest man.
And wealth is power you know. And power may be
Employed to aid or crush. Well, his was used,
Used without stint, to crush and ruin me.
" So bad grew steadily worse. My livelihood
Went first, and then my good name followed it.
I could not find employment. It was cold,
Bitterly cold, and yet we had no fire.
" No fire nor food! One evening as I looked
Upon my shivering, starving wife and child,
I thought: God gave this fruitful earth to man
That all might live; but he has robbed my share.
Can it be sin to take what is my own?
" So thinking, forth upon the road I walked.
He, too, was there; his fate had brought him there.
Now, as I stand before my God, I meant
Only to take from his full purse the gold
His arts had robbed me of.
" But God or fate
Would not permit it. At my harsh demand
He drew a pistol, warning me. I closed
And wrenched it from him. Then I shot him dead.
'Twas done in frenzy; but 'twas done forever.
" And that, my lord, is all I have to say,
For I am tired of life and long to die. "
Pale but regardless of the gazing crowd.
His brow was high, his temples sunk and veined;
His countenance wearied, as with mental toils
And long-borne burdens — more than man should bear.
Thus to his judge with listless mien he spoke:
" My lord, you ask me what I have to say.
Why this: The laws of God and man alike
Read " blood for blood"; and I have taken life:
And therefore in all justice I should die.
" Yes, " blood for blood," — three twelvemonths back or so
Our king — God bless him and forgive his faults —
Was very angry, for the King of France
Had cut some trunks of logwood in Balize.
" He must have been quite angry, for it took
For every tree a bleeding human heart,
A priceless soul sent to its last account,
To pacify his spirit, — yet he reigns.
" But let that pass. The murdered man and I
Were schoolfellows together; conned one book,
Slept in one bed, and joined in boyish games.
Was it a wonder that we loved one maid?
" Then, as we older grew, our paths diverged,
But not our love for her. He had become
A prosperous merchant, of whom all the town
Prophesied well; and I , a pedagogue.
" My talent — for I had it — was outstripped
In all things by his tact, — in all save one:
For Mary's love was mine, and we were wed:
And from that hour he was my bitter foe.
" He grew to be the county's wealthiest man.
And wealth is power you know. And power may be
Employed to aid or crush. Well, his was used,
Used without stint, to crush and ruin me.
" So bad grew steadily worse. My livelihood
Went first, and then my good name followed it.
I could not find employment. It was cold,
Bitterly cold, and yet we had no fire.
" No fire nor food! One evening as I looked
Upon my shivering, starving wife and child,
I thought: God gave this fruitful earth to man
That all might live; but he has robbed my share.
Can it be sin to take what is my own?
" So thinking, forth upon the road I walked.
He, too, was there; his fate had brought him there.
Now, as I stand before my God, I meant
Only to take from his full purse the gold
His arts had robbed me of.
" But God or fate
Would not permit it. At my harsh demand
He drew a pistol, warning me. I closed
And wrenched it from him. Then I shot him dead.
'Twas done in frenzy; but 'twas done forever.
" And that, my lord, is all I have to say,
For I am tired of life and long to die. "
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