A BYZANTINE LEGEND

I.

In the dim twilight of the Empire's wreck,
When puppet princes ruled what once was Rome,
Sham Caesars, at the strong Barbarian's beck
From shadows called, to shadowland sent home,
Or slain, or tonsured, passing out of sight,
While Ricimer, the turbulent Sueve,
Lord of the legions' fierce Teutonic might,
O'ershadowed the Imperial name he gave:
Chaos seemed come, for Rome's great past died hard,
In that discordant prelude-time of change,
When name with fact, and show with substance jarred,
And, lost 'mid ruins, mem'ry's self grew strange.
But mid the ruck of nations that beset
With Babel din the world's collapsing rims,
Though Hun and Vandal shook the throne, not yet
Had Roman purple decked Barbarian limbs.
And Ricimer, the crumbling Empire's lord,
Was styled Patrician, while his creature wore
The diadem of state, and shook the sword,
And reigned and passed, a name and nothing more.

II.

But lo! amid these sceptred shades behold,
By blundering destiny slipt in, a Man,
Not all unworthy Caesar's place to hold,
A soldier in his prime, — Majorian.
He, the last hero of the Empire's wane,
Had seen the world's whole future staked and won,
In the great battle on the Mauriac plain,
When Aetius to his waggons drove the Hun.
Had seen the Vandal triremes pillage-fraught
Swept from the seas like chaff before the gale,
And all the robber-scum of Carthage taught
Before the might of Ricimer to quail.
But yet, despite these triumphs rare and late,
Dark was the hour that called him to the throne,
And dark the future of the falling-state,
Marked by impending havoc for its own.
Too late indeed, the march of doom to stay,
To hurl the Tartar and the Teuton home,
Or aught save raise one moment from decay
The glorious phantom of Imperial Rome.

III.

And this Majorian did — the eagles flew
Again to vict'ry — on Verbano's shore
The plundering Alemanni they o'erthrew
And chased across the Alps — in Gaul once more
A Caesar warred and conquered — Visigoth
And Alan to their ancient bounds returned,
And next in Italy Majorian's wrath
Campania's plunder for the Vandal earned.
Who paid his rapine dear, yet ever hung
Low on the south like a tempestuous fringe
Of brooding thunder, and his galleys flung
Where gold or harvest took the sunlight's tinge
To tempt his ravage. 'Gainst this caitiff foe
Ambushed in Africa, Majorian planned
With Rome's remaining might to strike a blow,
And drive him headlong from the Libyan strand.

IV.

So, from the wind-swept ridge of Apennine
And Sabine ranges, dark against the morn,
Was reft away each shaggy crest of pine,
And from their flanks the forest vesture shorn.
And ev'ry port with busy turmoil rang
And Ostia's yards and Classis' docks once more
Sent echoing far the rhythmic hammer's clang
O'er Adriatic and Tyrrhenian shore.
While the huge triremes rose to form a fleet,
The mightiest Rome had seen for many a day,
Till one great purpose leavened the effete
Inertia of her crumbling limbs of clay.
But while Majorian worked his project out,
Breathing his fiery soul into the state,
For trustworthy report he cast about,
By which the foeman's strength to estimate.
Nor trusted venal spy his mind to know,
Whose fatal fault might sow disaster's seeds,
He as his own Ambassador would go,
Augustus' eyes must serve the Empire's needs.

V.

But first those amber locks must change their hue,
By which Majorian to the world was known,
Blond as Apollo, as in public view,
Unhelmed he shone, high on the purple throne.
The change is made — and sable curls o'ertent
His open brow, and shade his keen blue eyes,
Which, on a plate of polished steel intent,
With mirthful glances scan their new disguise.
Next in plain armour, past the golden gates,
He slips by guards that porch and entrance line,
Through darkling streets, to where a galley waits,
Moored in the shadow of the Aventine.
There takes the Envoy's place and name, unknown
To all the retinue, who much discuss
The stranger's past — a secret shared alone
With one on board — his friend Egidius.
The night sped " Caesar and his fortunes " on,
Borne seaward with the Tiber's yellow foam;
While Rome believed him to Ravenna gone
For brief sojourn — Ravenna still at Rome.
Thus in due course they reach the Libyan strand,
And touch the quay; the thought of Regulus
Is with Majorian as he steps to land,
'Mid the great city's life tumultuous.
Where were beheld — strange sight for Roman pride!
Rome's captive citizens at servile toil,
With Ethiop and Nubian side by side,
'Neath the Barbarian lash, on Punic soil.

VI.

The Envoy on the morrow took his way
To Genseric's presence — bidden thereunto;
A martial figure glittering in array
Of burnished mail, as in the people's view
He rode through streets that seemed a motley fair
Of tropic races — ebon, brown, and dun,
And Vandal conqu'rors with their yellow hair,
And skin scorched umber by the torrid sun.
So to the great Basilica he passed,
With the long vista of its colonnades
Closed by the triple-vaulted apse that cast
Its gloom on Gens'ric of the hundred raids.
No king of men in aspect, swart of skin,
Low-built and limping: in his gilded chair
The meanest wight he seemed those walls within,
Unarmed 'mid warriors, dark where all were fair.
For round his throne in mail-clad groups were massed
The bright-haired giants of the northern seas;
A lion's skin o'er stalwart shoulders cast
Made each seem a Nemean Hercules.

VII.

All Rome's great mem'ries kindling in his eyes,
That flashed blue lightnings 'neath the thunder cloud
Of darkened brows, scarce mindful of disguise,
The Envoy stept along erect and proud.
Yet duly played his part, and bent his knee,
To hand his missive to the Vandal king.
" My lord Majorian's greeting, " so spake he,
" To the most puissant Genseric I bring. "
The Corsair's brow relaxed, his pride appeased
By embassage from still Imperial Rome,
He deigned response in gracious mood, well-pleased
The Envoy should declare his might at home.
So, stepping from his throne, he led the way,
Through gall'ries, where, with arrow on the string,
His brow Numidian bowmen stood alway,
Like crouching tigers ready for a spring.
Then at a trumpet's blast a massive door
Swung open, and disclosed a vaulted gloom,
With dim mosaics traced on roof and floor,
Erewhile a church — now Gens'ric's treasure-room.

VIII.

And there Majorian saw with burning heart,
In glitt'ring piles, the plunder of his home,
And recognized, with many a bitter start,
The world-famed trophies of the sack of Rome.
On desecrated altars met his gaze
The sacred vases from St. Peter's shrine;
And walls and dome with gilding were ablaze,
Stript from the roof of Jove Capitoline.
There gleamed the hallowed spoils of Israel,
The seven-branched candlestick — the sacred ark —
And next the shrine before which Dagon fell,
Lay idols of the East, deformed and dark.
And purple robes, and thrones of state were there,
And golden housings of Imperial dames,
Stuffs iris-hued, and tissues light as air,
And jewels darting many coloured flames.
All these the Roman viewed with rage supprest.
In boastful arrogance the Vandal showed;
Then down a winding stair he led his guest,
Who after him in gloomy silence strode.

IX.

A low-browed crypt was there — its beetling roof
On massy columns propt, around which slung
Were weapons, gleaming 'gainst the crimson woof
Of Tyrian looms, that walls and pillars hung.
There many a Gaulish dirk and Syrian blade
Shed sparkles keen in steely spokes and stars,
And Roman shields a shining cornice made
O'er Scythian bows, and Persian scimitars.
And mighty engines that had borne the brunt
Of siege and storm, were there in aspect fell,
The moving tower, the ram with brazen front,
Balista, catapult, and mangonel.
But scarcely had the stranger set his foot
Within the place, when lo! a mighty sound
Went moaning round the chamber vast and mute,
And echoing 'mid the hollow spaces round.
And with the jarring shock of steel on steel,
As when in battle charging squadrons meet,
Brand smote on buckler, clattered peal on peal,
Of dints, and blows, and battleaxes' beat.
Sparks flew from whirling weapons, that seemed fired
By sudden memories of ancient wars,
And leaped to furious life, as though inspired
To own the presence of a son of Mars.

X.

Majorian stood unmoved — in sudden fear —
The Vandal turned, and looked upon his guest —
Then with the thought, " An earthquake has been here, "
Back, up the winding stair he swiftly pressed.
But when to upper air returned anew,
No trace of such convulsion there they saw —
None had been felt — and Genseric's wonder grew,
And in his breast fear deepened into awe.
The stranger's presence filled him with unrest,
Whose cause he neither knew nor cared to know,
But filled with nameless terror of his guest,
He loaded him with gifts and bade him go.
The augury was vain, returned to land,
Majorian died at Ricimer's behest,
And thus by the Barbarian's ruthless hand,
Fell the last warlike Caesar of the West.