The Impresario: Epilogue

Posted by ractrose on 4 Feb 2020 in Art, Poems

Oil painting of medieval chamber featuring The Sower from the Tres Riches Heures




The Impresario



His showman’s eye, a gift…he’d called it that

Boasted how poignancy might mix with horror

This he’d known to parse and measure

What string to pluck for sympathy;

then touch a purse for charity

Urge strong men condescend

Stare and dig in pockets

Give sop to concupiscence

He’d weighed her like an alchemist, this girl

And had she known her worth was gold?

Or was it so

That which bears all takes no thought for self

“I cannot wiser judge, than echo Our Good Lord.

Does no one now accuse thee? Therefore, go and sin no more.”

The impresario finds he has no heart for chasing wealth


Regalus from Tortu has softly drawn

A voice she has the patience to attend

And when she sends the new Abbess her alms

Does sometimes pen a letter giving news

The news is of the eremite’s good works

For since the vintner’s daughter there was buried

Miracles attach to his old cell

The impresario, his wife, and faithful friend

At his father’s court now dwell


The Dauphin to the vintner’s has been ’prenticed

Among his gifts had honed from fair to fair

Wit enough to play to vanities

Those flatteries the traffic deigns to bear

And at this chance, conducts himself with shrewdness

Doubling his forgiven master’s business


For Madame idleness remains a bore

Her son’s household too needy and too far

From city life, once more she casts her fortunes

This time with gypsies of a traveling band

And can be found performing on the strand


The wax-man at the Bishop’s table has grown fatter still

“You are a scholar, Théophile, I desire you accept

The freedom of my library.

Please remedy, indeed, its insufficiencies.

I shall acquire whatever you suggest.

I admit the sin of ambition, in this one respect.”

And now (though most content) the wax-man jokes he cannot



In the stable yard of a desolate rogues’ retreat

A knight disgraced, hand-over-hand on hilt, blade to heaven

Swears an oath. “My God, if you grant me absolution

Grant me a fell hand also, and a heart to dare

That for the honor of your Holy Name this weapon

Never miss its mark, though death take

He that bears it”

“I will be circumspect,” Pierre tells Boniface. “And offer then

To carry only your pack.”




Oil painting of soldier in kepi before dramatic rock formations

If you enjoyed The Impresario, you may like Haunt of Thieves
Impresario (part one)














(2017, Stephanie Foster)




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