The Conversion of St. Vladimir/Canto 6
CANTO VI
Public Audience
Vladimir, sitting on his throne
At his great residence,
Granted, as was his custom,
A public audience.
His ministers and couns’lors
And courtly cavaliers
Stood ’round him at attention
Like jars of fruit, in tiers.
His many secretaries,
With blanched and sallow cheek,
With bended back before him
Kneeled, groveling and meek.
Inkwell tied to the button,
And in their hand a quill,
And on their back a knapsack
Petitioners might fill.
Gendarmes, austere and trusty,
Stood back of Vladimir,
Prepared for drastic treatment
If danger should appear.
Upon the floor his subjects
Suppliant lay, and prone
Flat on their bellies, cringing
Before his mighty throne.
This time the public hearing
Was boisterous and loud;
Most of the Russian Clergy
Made up the noisy crowd.
The popes, the priests, the deacons,
The vestry of the fold,
Old women candle-lighters,
Boys who the church-bells tolled.
With them came chorus singers,
Musicians, proselytes,
The grave diggers and elders—
Even the acolytes.
The drum major had scarcely
Announced, so all could hear,
That their kind Tsar has deigned to
Lend his magnanimous ear,
When all the godly servants
Began to weep and moan
Like wicked gypsy women,
Who for their sins atone.
Thus wailed the priests and bishops,
The vestry of the fold,
The candle-lighter women,
Boys who the churchbells tolled.
With them the chorus singers,
Musicians, acolytes,
The gravediggers and cantors,
Even the proselytes.
“What ails you?” came the query
From ’neath the baldachin.
“We're perishing, O Sire!”
They cried with fearful din.
The clergy then sent forward
One, who with solemn zeal
Should importune His Tsarship
Presenting this appeal:
“Great is our Tsar Vladimir,
Sainted his power and Grace;
But since you drowned our god, put
Another in his place.
“One god is like another god—
It matters not at all—
As long as he keeps peasants
In reverence and thrall.
“They ridicule our sermons
As were they asses’ bray,
And they have now to no one
For Vladimir to pray.
“They need some god to make them
Quail with his thunder’s roar—
We cannot work without one,
You must some god restore!”
This argument affected
His Excellency strange;
It caused his disposition
To take a sudden change.
And, like all mighty sovereigns
He had a tender heart—
Compassion would not let him
Tear e’en a chick apart.
“Depart with royal grace, friends,
So pious and so leal.
We shall, with proper caution,
Consider your appeal.”
