Blood of the prophets / by Edgar Lee Masters as Dexter Wallace [electronic text]

SAMUEL.

"There will be no change at home."

WILLIAM MCKINLEY.

Hear then of brawn-armed Samuel, Fair-haired and heavy-jaw; For he feared not the gates of hell, Spiked 'round with heaven's law.

His viens with fiery draughts did glow,Like sullen flames that burn, Beyond the granite gates, below, Where souls for water yearn.

The blood of seven men he drew, With many a dagger's thrust, And theirs the fault whom thus he slew, He made the quarrel just.

Still deep in wine and mad carouse, He kept the plighted vow, Of her who sorrowed at the house, The thorns upon her brow.

Yet what she feared of sodden crime, His path by lust beset, Fell out, at last, upon a time, With gypsy Juliette.

The smoky-ebon of her eye,Made all his muscles weak. He loved the muddy, scarlet dye That mantled in her cheek.

For tawdry shawl and grimy skirt, For beads of colored glass;For circled ear-rings flecked with vert, And bracelets wrought of brass.

For thieving tricks and gypsy art, And evil craft and wile; For treachery of a venal heart,And lechery masked with guile.

For these the brawn-armed Samuel, Exchanged a faithful wife, And spat upon the gates of hell,The peril and the strife.

And so he wooed this Juliette, And sought her dark embrace,Nor knew that he and death had met, That instant face to face.

For soon a tetter barked about, With vile and loathsome crust, The fair skin thereby parched with drought That crumbled into dust.

At last we saw his hollow eye, His weak and staggering walk. They sneered at him who passed him by, And heard his chattering talk.

Thus died the foul-youth Samuel,Gray haired and sunken jaw, His soul went through the gates of hell, Spiked 'round with heaven's law.

They placed his body on a pyre, And burned it skin and bones; And put the ashes, purged by fire, Beneath a pile of stones.