"'Feast-master,' ye were pleased to call me, friends:"
So in a cheerful humor Publius spoke,
Bright-hearted welcome radiant on his face
As vibrant in his brisk and cordial tones,
Then when by concert after interval—
Their appetite the keener from suspense—
The selfsame company again were met
Under his ample roof to hear the rest
What Mary, or what Krishna, more might tell.
So in a cheerful humor Publius spoke,
Bright-hearted welcome radiant on his face
As vibrant in his brisk and cordial tones,
Then when by concert after interval—
Their appetite the keener from suspense—
The selfsame company again were met
Under his ample roof to hear the rest
What Mary, or what Krishna, more might tell.
They found the mansion furnished as for feast.
Garlands of fresh leaf and of fragrant flower
Hung everywhere about and frolic laughed
A momentary mimicry of spring.
A fountain playing in the court without
Shot up its curving column to the sun;
He caught the shattered capital in air,
And, kindling every crystal water-drop
Of all the circling shower to which it turned
Into a jewel, sent the largess down,
Shifting as in a shaken kaleidoscope
From form to form of light and rainbow hue—
A glittering evanescence passing price,
Sard, topaz, sapphire, opal, diamond-stone,
Emerald and ruby, pearl and amethyst.
That fountain, to the eye refection such,
Plashed gentle-murmuring music in the ear.
Couches and chairs about the board disposed
Awaited. The guests' feet, as they reclined,
Or sat—the woman sat, the men reclined—
Were duly washed and wiped after the wont
Of homage in those times and in those climes
Accorded ever to the honored guest.
Garlands of fresh leaf and of fragrant flower
Hung everywhere about and frolic laughed
A momentary mimicry of spring.
A fountain playing in the court without
Shot up its curving column to the sun;
He caught the shattered capital in air,
And, kindling every crystal water-drop
Of all the circling shower to which it turned
Into a jewel, sent the largess down,
Shifting as in a shaken kaleidoscope
From form to form of light and rainbow hue—
A glittering evanescence passing price,
Sard, topaz, sapphire, opal, diamond-stone,
Emerald and ruby, pearl and amethyst.
That fountain, to the eye refection such,
Plashed gentle-murmuring music in the ear.
Couches and chairs about the board disposed
Awaited. The guests' feet, as they reclined,
Or sat—the woman sat, the men reclined—
Were duly washed and wiped after the wont
Of homage in those times and in those climes
Accorded ever to the honored guest.
While this was passing, the complacent host,
Not in quite unpremeditated words
Though from his heart, welcomed his guests and said:
"'Feast-master' ye were pleased to call me late
When of your own ye furnished forth the feast,
Invisible viands, yet of savor rare.
Then I was helpless, taken by surprise,
And could do nothing to deserve my name.
If, by your grace, I must feast-master be,
Let me in some sort be feast-maker too.
Forewarned to-day, I venture to assume
Leave of your goodness, and provide this cheer;
Too obvious to the sight and touch and taste
To be as delicate as yours, yet fruit
Of hospitality sincere. Partake,
I pray you, freely, and commend the food.
With meat and drink refreshed, we shall not less,
More rather, relish what of nobler sort
May follow, entertainment to the mind."
Not in quite unpremeditated words
Though from his heart, welcomed his guests and said:
"'Feast-master' ye were pleased to call me late
When of your own ye furnished forth the feast,
Invisible viands, yet of savor rare.
Then I was helpless, taken by surprise,
And could do nothing to deserve my name.
If, by your grace, I must feast-master be,
Let me in some sort be feast-maker too.
Forewarned to-day, I venture to assume
Leave of your goodness, and provide this cheer;
Too obvious to the sight and touch and taste
To be as delicate as yours, yet fruit
Of hospitality sincere. Partake,
I pray you, freely, and commend the food.
With meat and drink refreshed, we shall not less,
More rather, relish what of nobler sort
May follow, entertainment to the mind."
Paul answering with a grave sweet courtesy
For all attuned that genial atmosphere
To a chaste spirit of something finer yet
Than genial, which prepared him easy way
To saying: "And now, O Publius, unto God
Most High, who gave thee what thou givest us,
And gave thee likewise thy good will to give,
That God in whom we live and move and have
Our being, who of one blood made us all,
Gentile and Jew together, and whose Son
Christ Jesus died that we might be redeemed
To fellow-sonship with Himself to God—
Let us to God, All-giver, render thanks
For these his gifts, and therewithal for that,
His gift unspeakable in Christ His Son."
So, Publius assenting with bowed head
And complaisance unspoken, Paul gave thanks.
For all attuned that genial atmosphere
To a chaste spirit of something finer yet
Than genial, which prepared him easy way
To saying: "And now, O Publius, unto God
Most High, who gave thee what thou givest us,
And gave thee likewise thy good will to give,
That God in whom we live and move and have
Our being, who of one blood made us all,
Gentile and Jew together, and whose Son
Christ Jesus died that we might be redeemed
To fellow-sonship with Himself to God—
Let us to God, All-giver, render thanks
For these his gifts, and therewithal for that,
His gift unspeakable in Christ His Son."
So, Publius assenting with bowed head
And complaisance unspoken, Paul gave thanks.
"Oblation of the lips in chosen words,
Warm from the heart no doubt yet only words,
O Paul, thou offeredst to the powers unseen
Above us," Publius said soon after, while
The equal feast they shared; "as if one God
Alone thou worshippedst, All-giver named
By thee: but we have gods and goddesses
Diverse in name and office, unto whom
We offer gift and sacrifice diverse
According as may seem diversely meet.
Apollo is the regent of the sun,
Of the moon, Cynthia with her crescent bow;
Pomona is our patroness of fruits,
While Flora rules the gentle realm of flowers,
And mother Ceres yields us corn and oil.
Jupiter gives us weather, and he broods
In fecund incubation from the skies
Over the earth to quicken all that grows
With moisture; but he sometimes frowns in cloud
Not kindly, and hurtles down the thunderbolt.
Know it was Neptune that stirred up the sea
So, in that insurrection and revolt
Against you late, and stranded you forlorn,
Happy for me and mine! upon this isle;
For Neptune is the sovereign of the wave.
Those winds that blew meantime were breath in blast
Puffed from the cheeks of Æolus who holds
The invisible dominion of the air.
The world is peopled dense with deities
Whom well to worship all, is no light task.
We build them temples, and on altars there
Pour them out rivers of blood from victims slain;
Blood is the favorite drink to most of them.
The victims' flesh we offer them for food:
They do not eat it; so we eat it for them.
For instance now, these meats purveyed for you
Ere going to the shambles to be sold,
Were duly each presented to some god:
So we may gratify our appetite,
And feel that we are worshipping the while.
But Bacchus is our hospitable god:
A big, bluff, honest face we figure him,
Bloodthirsty not, but fond of festal cheer.
Him we best please by drinking of his gift,
Not blood of beast but generous blood of grape,
And spending a libation of the same,
Tribute to him, the end of every feast."
Warm from the heart no doubt yet only words,
O Paul, thou offeredst to the powers unseen
Above us," Publius said soon after, while
The equal feast they shared; "as if one God
Alone thou worshippedst, All-giver named
By thee: but we have gods and goddesses
Diverse in name and office, unto whom
We offer gift and sacrifice diverse
According as may seem diversely meet.
Apollo is the regent of the sun,
Of the moon, Cynthia with her crescent bow;
Pomona is our patroness of fruits,
While Flora rules the gentle realm of flowers,
And mother Ceres yields us corn and oil.
Jupiter gives us weather, and he broods
In fecund incubation from the skies
Over the earth to quicken all that grows
With moisture; but he sometimes frowns in cloud
Not kindly, and hurtles down the thunderbolt.
Know it was Neptune that stirred up the sea
So, in that insurrection and revolt
Against you late, and stranded you forlorn,
Happy for me and mine! upon this isle;
For Neptune is the sovereign of the wave.
Those winds that blew meantime were breath in blast
Puffed from the cheeks of Æolus who holds
The invisible dominion of the air.
The world is peopled dense with deities
Whom well to worship all, is no light task.
We build them temples, and on altars there
Pour them out rivers of blood from victims slain;
Blood is the favorite drink to most of them.
The victims' flesh we offer them for food:
They do not eat it; so we eat it for them.
For instance now, these meats purveyed for you
Ere going to the shambles to be sold,
Were duly each presented to some god:
So we may gratify our appetite,
And feel that we are worshipping the while.
But Bacchus is our hospitable god:
A big, bluff, honest face we figure him,
Bloodthirsty not, but fond of festal cheer.
Him we best please by drinking of his gift,
Not blood of beast but generous blood of grape,
And spending a libation of the same,
Tribute to him, the end of every feast."
This spring and flow of talk idolatrous,
Uncertain how much serious and how much
A play of skeptic humor half ashamed,
Was a sad note discordant to the tune
Of chastened reverent feeling in the breasts
Of men and women owning debt indeed
For hospitality sincerely meant
By Publius they well knew, yet paramount
Allegiance owning to a jealous God
Who brooked no name divine beside His own.
All toward Paul turning waited, and he spoke:
"O Publius, guests are we and thou art host;
Most gracious we acknowledge thee to be,
As most ungracious were we did we not,
Or undiscerning. Thou hast honored us
Using that frankness to set forth thy ways,
Thine, and thy fellow countrymen's; ways yet
Far alien from the ways endeared to us.
These let me, honoring thee thus with return
Of frankness like thine own, declare to thee.
Uncertain how much serious and how much
A play of skeptic humor half ashamed,
Was a sad note discordant to the tune
Of chastened reverent feeling in the breasts
Of men and women owning debt indeed
For hospitality sincerely meant
By Publius they well knew, yet paramount
Allegiance owning to a jealous God
Who brooked no name divine beside His own.
All toward Paul turning waited, and he spoke:
"O Publius, guests are we and thou art host;
Most gracious we acknowledge thee to be,
As most ungracious were we did we not,
Or undiscerning. Thou hast honored us
Using that frankness to set forth thy ways,
Thine, and thy fellow countrymen's; ways yet
Far alien from the ways endeared to us.
These let me, honoring thee thus with return
Of frankness like thine own, declare to thee.
"We count that thy so-named divinities
Are nothing such as thou supposest them.
They are not gods, since God is one, and will
His incommunicable majesty
Permit none other to partake with Him.
Perhaps, when ye idolaters enshrine
Reputed images of whom ye call
Gods and these worship with your various rites,
It is with some endeavor of your thought
Beyond the sign to what is signified.
But so even is your worship worse than vain.
For there is nothing in the world—the world
Of things existent, things substantial, real,
Spirit or matter—that as counterpart
Answers to these conceived resemblances,
These idols framed by your artificers,
Pretending to be images of gods;
Nothing, I mean, that can be called Divine.
Behind them there is something real indeed,
But evil, not good; no such reality
As that ye dream. Demons, not gods are they,
Who, hid behind your idols, mask and mock.
Therefore we can but hate idolatry,
And flee it as one flees a pestilence.
Are nothing such as thou supposest them.
They are not gods, since God is one, and will
His incommunicable majesty
Permit none other to partake with Him.
Perhaps, when ye idolaters enshrine
Reputed images of whom ye call
Gods and these worship with your various rites,
It is with some endeavor of your thought
Beyond the sign to what is signified.
But so even is your worship worse than vain.
For there is nothing in the world—the world
Of things existent, things substantial, real,
Spirit or matter—that as counterpart
Answers to these conceived resemblances,
These idols framed by your artificers,
Pretending to be images of gods;
Nothing, I mean, that can be called Divine.
Behind them there is something real indeed,
But evil, not good; no such reality
As that ye dream. Demons, not gods are they,
Who, hid behind your idols, mask and mock.
Therefore we can but hate idolatry,
And flee it as one flees a pestilence.
"Forgive me, the affront is not to thee,
Not to thy fellow worshippers misled,
But to the kingdom of the Evil One,
That emperor of the powers of the air
Who for a season yet has sufferance here
To practice his impostures on mankind.
Thou therefore, O lord Publius, understand,
Thou, and ye others not of Hebrew race,
That we, full gladly sharing this fair feast,
And out of true hearts thanking him our host,
Know nothing of the dedications made
Of meats or drinks partaken to those gods
No gods; but give our worship and our praise
Only to one God over all Most High,
The Maker and the Ruler of all worlds,
Jehovah named, blesséd forevermore.
Add to our debt, O Publius, also this,
That I have spoken thus without offence."
Not to thy fellow worshippers misled,
But to the kingdom of the Evil One,
That emperor of the powers of the air
Who for a season yet has sufferance here
To practice his impostures on mankind.
Thou therefore, O lord Publius, understand,
Thou, and ye others not of Hebrew race,
That we, full gladly sharing this fair feast,
And out of true hearts thanking him our host,
Know nothing of the dedications made
Of meats or drinks partaken to those gods
No gods; but give our worship and our praise
Only to one God over all Most High,
The Maker and the Ruler of all worlds,
Jehovah named, blesséd forevermore.
Add to our debt, O Publius, also this,
That I have spoken thus without offence."
Paul ended with a look toward Publius, then
Also toward Julius present there, which these
Felt as fixed firmness tempered with appeal.
Publius took counsel with quick sounding eyes
On the centurion bent, and answered thus,
His own thought by that other's fortified:
"O Paul, have thou thy will; no will have I
In this thing; all is one to me; our gods
Are our conventions, and we worship them
In form, but not in spirit. Strange to us
It seems, us more enlightened than the crowd,
Us who have tasted of philosophy,
To see thee thus engaged in earnestness
On the behalf of things not seen, not known."
Paul broke in with a burst of testimony:
"But I have seen, but I have known. The Lord,
The Lord Christ, Son of God declared, from heaven
Flashed in a sudden vision once on me,
Sudden and swift, for both my eyes went blind."
"It was a stroke of lightning blinded thee,"
Said Publius. "Nay, the sky was cloudless clear,"
Paul answered, "and the hour was high midnoon;
The Syrian sun was shining in his strength.
I know whom I believe and I adore
And bless Him, calling on my soul and all
That is within me to adore and bless
His holy name. Whether we eat or drink,
Or whatsoever do, in word or deed,
We His redeemed do all in our Lord's name,
To God the Father giving thanks through Him."
"Is this thy Lord to whom thou renderest thus
Thy service, the whole service of a life,"
So interrupted Publius, "is this Lord
The same as he whom Mary tells us of?"
"The same, O Publius," answered Paul. "But he—
I thought that he was put to death," replied
Publius. "Yea, but He burst the bands of death,
He rose in power and glory from the grave,
He thence ascended far above all height
Into the heaven of heavens beyond all thought,
Where He sat down enthroned forevermore
By the right hand of God;" so Paul, enrapt
And with his rapture aweing all who heard.
Also toward Julius present there, which these
Felt as fixed firmness tempered with appeal.
Publius took counsel with quick sounding eyes
On the centurion bent, and answered thus,
His own thought by that other's fortified:
"O Paul, have thou thy will; no will have I
In this thing; all is one to me; our gods
Are our conventions, and we worship them
In form, but not in spirit. Strange to us
It seems, us more enlightened than the crowd,
Us who have tasted of philosophy,
To see thee thus engaged in earnestness
On the behalf of things not seen, not known."
Paul broke in with a burst of testimony:
"But I have seen, but I have known. The Lord,
The Lord Christ, Son of God declared, from heaven
Flashed in a sudden vision once on me,
Sudden and swift, for both my eyes went blind."
"It was a stroke of lightning blinded thee,"
Said Publius. "Nay, the sky was cloudless clear,"
Paul answered, "and the hour was high midnoon;
The Syrian sun was shining in his strength.
I know whom I believe and I adore
And bless Him, calling on my soul and all
That is within me to adore and bless
His holy name. Whether we eat or drink,
Or whatsoever do, in word or deed,
We His redeemed do all in our Lord's name,
To God the Father giving thanks through Him."
"Is this thy Lord to whom thou renderest thus
Thy service, the whole service of a life,"
So interrupted Publius, "is this Lord
The same as he whom Mary tells us of?"
"The same, O Publius," answered Paul. "But he—
I thought that he was put to death," replied
Publius. "Yea, but He burst the bands of death,
He rose in power and glory from the grave,
He thence ascended far above all height
Into the heaven of heavens beyond all thought,
Where He sat down enthroned forevermore
By the right hand of God;" so Paul, enrapt
And with his rapture aweing all who heard.
Publius then said, for now with meat and drink
The appetite to each was satisfied:
"O Paul, what thou thus sayest quickens in me
Desire to hear the rest of Mary's tale.
That death of shame, however undeserved,
Yet fallen on him as if inevitable—
He surely would have shunned it, if he could—
Had, I will own, induced in me some doubt
Whether the man who suffered it could be
Indeed the worker of such miracles
As those that Mary thought she saw from him.
But his triumphant rising from the dead,
His after showing of himself to thee,
That, this, if that, if this, did happen—why,
Such conquest over death and Hades won
And by such proof assured to us, were much.
But let us listen to what Mary yet
Will tell us of the last things to that life
And of the shameful death that ended it."
The appetite to each was satisfied:
"O Paul, what thou thus sayest quickens in me
Desire to hear the rest of Mary's tale.
That death of shame, however undeserved,
Yet fallen on him as if inevitable—
He surely would have shunned it, if he could—
Had, I will own, induced in me some doubt
Whether the man who suffered it could be
Indeed the worker of such miracles
As those that Mary thought she saw from him.
But his triumphant rising from the dead,
His after showing of himself to thee,
That, this, if that, if this, did happen—why,
Such conquest over death and Hades won
And by such proof assured to us, were much.
But let us listen to what Mary yet
Will tell us of the last things to that life
And of the shameful death that ended it."
Then, with the genial sun, somewhat declined
From his steep noon, streaming his golden rays
Into the room to qualify the cool;
And with, beside, two ample braziers brought
Of coals in ruddy glow, one at each end,
To cheer the shadowed spaces of no sun,
The company, in comfortable wise—
After the fragments of the feast, with due
Despatchful ministry of practised hands,
Had disappeared, disposed themselves at will
And sat attentive to hear Mary's words.
From his steep noon, streaming his golden rays
Into the room to qualify the cool;
And with, beside, two ample braziers brought
Of coals in ruddy glow, one at each end,
To cheer the shadowed spaces of no sun,
The company, in comfortable wise—
After the fragments of the feast, with due
Despatchful ministry of practised hands,
Had disappeared, disposed themselves at will
And sat attentive to hear Mary's words.
But Mary's words hung and she did not speak;
Her voice had like a failing fountain failed,
And drifts of pallor whitened all her cheek.
A doubtful moment, and she swayed to fall
In death or death-like swoon upon the floor.
But Ruth who sat next quickly stayed her up;
Then, letting her sink softly toward supine
On her own bosom, held her resting thus.
Resourceful ministration soon revived
Her spirits to Mary, till she seemed herself
Again, and thought that they might trust her now
Not to disturb them more with cause for fear.
So, with a certain added gentleness
In tone and manner marking her, she spoke
Thus, while the rest with added reverence heard:
Her voice had like a failing fountain failed,
And drifts of pallor whitened all her cheek.
A doubtful moment, and she swayed to fall
In death or death-like swoon upon the floor.
But Ruth who sat next quickly stayed her up;
Then, letting her sink softly toward supine
On her own bosom, held her resting thus.
Resourceful ministration soon revived
Her spirits to Mary, till she seemed herself
Again, and thought that they might trust her now
Not to disturb them more with cause for fear.
So, with a certain added gentleness
In tone and manner marking her, she spoke
Thus, while the rest with added reverence heard:
"That image of my Lord abides to me;
I see Him as I saw Him when I heard
'Behold the man!' The memory of my eyes
Is vivid and it seems to dazzle dark
The vision that by faith I ought to see.
I know and I believe that Jesus now
Is glorious in the heaven beyond all reach
Of anything to flaw His perfect fair.
But what he then was still will swim between,
And I perforce see this instead of that.
My ears ring with the maddening murderous shout
Of the chief priests and rulers with the mob
Mingling their voices now, 'Crucify Him!'
'He made himself the Son of God,' they cry.
That frightened Pilate, and, 'Whence art thou?' he
Asked Jesus, in his palace-hall withdrawn;
But Jesus never answered him a word.
Pilate was vexed, and tried browbeating Him.
'Speakest thou not to me? Dost thou not know
I can release thee if I will,' he said;
'Or, if I will can send thee to the cross?'
Then Jesus spoke. He said: 'No power is thine
Save as bestowed upon thee from above.
Therefore who gave me up to thee, he hath
The greater sin.'
I see Him as I saw Him when I heard
'Behold the man!' The memory of my eyes
Is vivid and it seems to dazzle dark
The vision that by faith I ought to see.
I know and I believe that Jesus now
Is glorious in the heaven beyond all reach
Of anything to flaw His perfect fair.
But what he then was still will swim between,
And I perforce see this instead of that.
My ears ring with the maddening murderous shout
Of the chief priests and rulers with the mob
Mingling their voices now, 'Crucify Him!'
'He made himself the Son of God,' they cry.
That frightened Pilate, and, 'Whence art thou?' he
Asked Jesus, in his palace-hall withdrawn;
But Jesus never answered him a word.
Pilate was vexed, and tried browbeating Him.
'Speakest thou not to me? Dost thou not know
I can release thee if I will,' he said;
'Or, if I will can send thee to the cross?'
Then Jesus spoke. He said: 'No power is thine
Save as bestowed upon thee from above.
Therefore who gave me up to thee, he hath
The greater sin.'
"Pilate perhaps was awed,
Or he perhaps, albeit a cruel man,
Was truly for this once compassionate.
However it was, he sought with quickened zeal
To pacify the Jews for the release
Of Jesus; but they knew that governor,
And he knew that they knew him, and when they
Cried out, 'Thou art not Cæsar's friend, if thou
Release this man; whoever makes himself
A king, speaks against Cæsar,' Pilate then
Trembled within his mind for guilty fear.
He covered over his weakness with vain show
Of mock and sarcasm as, with Jesus brought
Forth from within before them, he exclaimed,
'Behold your king!' Tumultuously all
Hooted, 'Away with him! Away with him!
Crucify him!' 'What! Crucify your king?'
Bitterly said Pilate, dashing ruth with sneer.
Those proud chief priests, eating their pride at once
And God abjuring, said: 'We have no king
But Cæsar.' Then he gave Him up to them.
Or he perhaps, albeit a cruel man,
Was truly for this once compassionate.
However it was, he sought with quickened zeal
To pacify the Jews for the release
Of Jesus; but they knew that governor,
And he knew that they knew him, and when they
Cried out, 'Thou art not Cæsar's friend, if thou
Release this man; whoever makes himself
A king, speaks against Cæsar,' Pilate then
Trembled within his mind for guilty fear.
He covered over his weakness with vain show
Of mock and sarcasm as, with Jesus brought
Forth from within before them, he exclaimed,
'Behold your king!' Tumultuously all
Hooted, 'Away with him! Away with him!
Crucify him!' 'What! Crucify your king?'
Bitterly said Pilate, dashing ruth with sneer.
Those proud chief priests, eating their pride at once
And God abjuring, said: 'We have no king
But Cæsar.' Then he gave Him up to them.
"But Pilate acted out before them all
In symbol a purgation of himself.
He had a basin of water brought, and washed
His hands, and said: 'Lo, I am innocent
Of this just blood; see ye yourselves to it.'
And all my people shouted out a curse
Upon themselves which for their sakes I fain
Had stopped my ears against—if not to hear,
Could have undone that dreadful curse! They cried,
'On us and on our children be his blood!'
God waits yet, but not long, to wreak that curse.
In symbol a purgation of himself.
He had a basin of water brought, and washed
His hands, and said: 'Lo, I am innocent
Of this just blood; see ye yourselves to it.'
And all my people shouted out a curse
Upon themselves which for their sakes I fain
Had stopped my ears against—if not to hear,
Could have undone that dreadful curse! They cried,
'On us and on our children be his blood!'
God waits yet, but not long, to wreak that curse.
"That was the end of all until the cross.
A multitude of people followed Him,
As He went forth out of the city gate
Bearing His cross to Golgotha, the place
Where He should suffer. Thither going, they
Met Simon a Cyrenean coming in,
And, of some wanton humor seized, they made
Him take the cross and bear it. With the throng
Mingled, were many women who like me
Wailed and lamented. But the Lord to us
Turning said: 'Daughters of Jerusalem,
Weep not for me; but for yourselves weep ye,
Yea, and your children. For the days will come
When, Blessed are the barren, ye shall say,
And breasts that never nourished children. Lo,
Then to the mountains men shall lift their cry,
Fall ye upon us; Cover us, to the hills.'
A multitude of people followed Him,
As He went forth out of the city gate
Bearing His cross to Golgotha, the place
Where He should suffer. Thither going, they
Met Simon a Cyrenean coming in,
And, of some wanton humor seized, they made
Him take the cross and bear it. With the throng
Mingled, were many women who like me
Wailed and lamented. But the Lord to us
Turning said: 'Daughters of Jerusalem,
Weep not for me; but for yourselves weep ye,
Yea, and your children. For the days will come
When, Blessed are the barren, ye shall say,
And breasts that never nourished children. Lo,
Then to the mountains men shall lift their cry,
Fall ye upon us; Cover us, to the hills.'
"While they nailed Jesus to His cross, He spake
Words such as never other spake before;
Upward He spake, praying, and not to them.
'Father,' He prayed, 'forgive them, for, behold,
They know not what they do.' So there He hung,
The Savior of the world, upon His cross.
I saw the soldiers four whose watch it was
Sit unconcerned—not knowing what they did!—
And cast lots for the garments of the Lord.
'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews,'
Pilate had written in three languages,
Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin, on the cross;
For so he gave his jeering humor play.
The chief priests winced at this, and begged of him,
'King of the Jews, write not, but that he said,
King of the Jews am I.' But Pilate spoke
Curtly, 'What I have written, I have written.'
There then the title stood, a bitterness
Mixed in their cup of triumph to the Jews,
And a truth deeper far than Pilate guessed.
Words such as never other spake before;
Upward He spake, praying, and not to them.
'Father,' He prayed, 'forgive them, for, behold,
They know not what they do.' So there He hung,
The Savior of the world, upon His cross.
I saw the soldiers four whose watch it was
Sit unconcerned—not knowing what they did!—
And cast lots for the garments of the Lord.
'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews,'
Pilate had written in three languages,
Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin, on the cross;
For so he gave his jeering humor play.
The chief priests winced at this, and begged of him,
'King of the Jews, write not, but that he said,
King of the Jews am I.' But Pilate spoke
Curtly, 'What I have written, I have written.'
There then the title stood, a bitterness
Mixed in their cup of triumph to the Jews,
And a truth deeper far than Pilate guessed.
"Mary, the mother of the Lord, stood by;
Jesus beheld her, and, close at her side,
That one of His disciples whom He loved.
A word then from those suffering lips which wrung
The mother-heart of Mary with sweet woe
To hear it spoken at such time as this.
'Woman,' said Jesus, to His mother speaking,
'Behold, thy son!' He meant John, for to him
Likewise He spake, 'Behold, thy mother!' So
Thenceforward Mary had with John her home.
Jesus beheld her, and, close at her side,
That one of His disciples whom He loved.
A word then from those suffering lips which wrung
The mother-heart of Mary with sweet woe
To hear it spoken at such time as this.
'Woman,' said Jesus, to His mother speaking,
'Behold, thy son!' He meant John, for to him
Likewise He spake, 'Behold, thy mother!' So
Thenceforward Mary had with John her home.
"There were chance passers-by that railed on Him,
Not knowing, those too, what they did! They scoffed,
Wagging their heads: 'Ha! Thou that couldst destroy
The temple and rebuild it in three days,
Save thyself now, and from the cross come down.'
After the same sort the chief priests and scribes,
Mocking among themselves, made mirth and said:
'Others he saved, let him now save himself!
The Christ of God, the King of Israel,
Let him come down now from the cross, and we,
We, will believe on him.' Two robbers even
Crucified with him joined the ribaldry,
Tauntingly saying, 'Save thyself and us!'
But one of them relented, touched with grace.
He praying said, 'Jesus, remember me
When Thou art come into Thy kingdom!' Faith
Like that, to see and to believe—despite
The shame and seeming helplessness—the king
In Jesus of a world beyond the world,
Won on the Lord; and He—He too with faith,
Sheer faith, faith far more wonderful in Him—
Gave answer calmly as became the king,
'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.'
Not knowing, those too, what they did! They scoffed,
Wagging their heads: 'Ha! Thou that couldst destroy
The temple and rebuild it in three days,
Save thyself now, and from the cross come down.'
After the same sort the chief priests and scribes,
Mocking among themselves, made mirth and said:
'Others he saved, let him now save himself!
The Christ of God, the King of Israel,
Let him come down now from the cross, and we,
We, will believe on him.' Two robbers even
Crucified with him joined the ribaldry,
Tauntingly saying, 'Save thyself and us!'
But one of them relented, touched with grace.
He praying said, 'Jesus, remember me
When Thou art come into Thy kingdom!' Faith
Like that, to see and to believe—despite
The shame and seeming helplessness—the king
In Jesus of a world beyond the world,
Won on the Lord; and He—He too with faith,
Sheer faith, faith far more wonderful in Him—
Gave answer calmly as became the king,
'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.'
"It grew now to be near the point of noon,
And there fell midnight darkness on the land
Gross for three hours; it was as if the sun
In heaven would not behold that wickedness.
Then the Lord Jesus uttered a loud cry,
The saddest that on earth was ever heard;
'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,'
He said. Those are the first words of a psalm
Prophetic of a suffering Savior Christ;
They mean, 'My God, my God, wherefore hast thou
Forsaken me?' That was the bitterness,
That must, I think, have been the bitterness,
Which most He dreaded in Gethsemane."
And there fell midnight darkness on the land
Gross for three hours; it was as if the sun
In heaven would not behold that wickedness.
Then the Lord Jesus uttered a loud cry,
The saddest that on earth was ever heard;
'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,'
He said. Those are the first words of a psalm
Prophetic of a suffering Savior Christ;
They mean, 'My God, my God, wherefore hast thou
Forsaken me?' That was the bitterness,
That must, I think, have been the bitterness,
Which most He dreaded in Gethsemane."
Mary looked up toward Paul with eyes that asked
Whether she well divined that this was so.
Paul swerved a little from the point, but said:
"The mystery of redemption! A great deep
It is, to us unfathomable quite—
Soundless as is the mystery of sin.
But alienation and exile from God,
Distance, and darkness, and abandonment,
This, sin works of its own necessity;
And this helps make the sinner's punishment.
Therefore to feel a frightful sense of this
Perhaps was needful to atone for sin."
Whether she well divined that this was so.
Paul swerved a little from the point, but said:
"The mystery of redemption! A great deep
It is, to us unfathomable quite—
Soundless as is the mystery of sin.
But alienation and exile from God,
Distance, and darkness, and abandonment,
This, sin works of its own necessity;
And this helps make the sinner's punishment.
Therefore to feel a frightful sense of this
Perhaps was needful to atone for sin."
Paul so far only, and then Mary said:
"The Savior's sense of that abandonment
Must have been short, I think, as short as sharp.
For following close upon that lonely cry,
There came this word, 'I thirst.' It was as though—
The imperious overmastering agony
Of spirit past—the flesh, silenced before,
Had leave to speak now witnessing its need.
Anguished the word was, but it seemed relief
To hear such sad acknowledgment succeed
The desolation of that other wail.
They brought a hyssop drenched in vinegar,
And on a reed lifted it to His lips.
That moisture loosed his tongue to speak once more,
The utter last time that he ever spake—
Until He used His resurrection voice.
The words were: 'It is finished! Father, I
Into Thy hands commend my spirit.' Loud
He spoke thus, and therewith His head declined,
Surrendering so His spirit up to God.
It did not seem like dying, as men die
Of sickness or of violence causing death.
I could not but bethink me how He said
Once, 'I lay down my life, no man from me
Taketh it, of myself I lay it down!"
"The Savior's sense of that abandonment
Must have been short, I think, as short as sharp.
For following close upon that lonely cry,
There came this word, 'I thirst.' It was as though—
The imperious overmastering agony
Of spirit past—the flesh, silenced before,
Had leave to speak now witnessing its need.
Anguished the word was, but it seemed relief
To hear such sad acknowledgment succeed
The desolation of that other wail.
They brought a hyssop drenched in vinegar,
And on a reed lifted it to His lips.
That moisture loosed his tongue to speak once more,
The utter last time that he ever spake—
Until He used His resurrection voice.
The words were: 'It is finished! Father, I
Into Thy hands commend my spirit.' Loud
He spoke thus, and therewith His head declined,
Surrendering so His spirit up to God.
It did not seem like dying, as men die
Of sickness or of violence causing death.
I could not but bethink me how He said
Once, 'I lay down my life, no man from me
Taketh it, of myself I lay it down!"
So Mary, with a cadence in her voice
That meant an end of speaking for that time.
That meant an end of speaking for that time.
BOOK XVIII.
KRISHNA.
The company still together though the hour is late, Krishna, at the request of Publius, after a breathing-spell enjoyed by all under the open sky, tells the story of the death of Buddha. A warning recited by him as having proceeded from the dying Buddha's lips against all speech on the part of his disciples with womankind, prompts Krishna to turn, with apology in his manner, in a kind of appeal to Paul, who, answering, gives the contrasted teaching of Christianity on this topic. At the conclusion of Krishna's recital, Publius makes a few characteristic observations suggested by it, and the company, having first agreed to assemble on some favorable day at dawn to hear from Mary the story of the resurrection of Jesus, disperse.
KRISHNA.
Slowly the solemn of late afternoon
Settled into the somber of twilight:
It was a pensive company that there
Sat nursing each his thought as if alone.
Then Julius, out of muse and memory,
Spoke, without harming the suspense of awe
That held all as pavilioned round with God:
"Yea, I remember to have heard it said,
In fact it was a story of the camp
Among us soldiers in Jerusalem,
That the centurion who stood by and watched
The doings of that day and Jesus' death,
Said, when he saw that having so cried out
He yielded up the ghost, 'Surely he was
The Son of God!'"
Settled into the somber of twilight:
It was a pensive company that there
Sat nursing each his thought as if alone.
Then Julius, out of muse and memory,
Spoke, without harming the suspense of awe
That held all as pavilioned round with God:
"Yea, I remember to have heard it said,
In fact it was a story of the camp
Among us soldiers in Jerusalem,
That the centurion who stood by and watched
The doings of that day and Jesus' death,
Said, when he saw that having so cried out
He yielded up the ghost, 'Surely he was
The Son of God!'"
"The death was wonderful,"
Said Publius, "not like that of any man."
He spoke with reverence far from insincere,
And yet a note of shallow in his tone
Was dissonant to the feeling of the hour.
This, Krishna with a fine discernment felt
When Publius turned to him, and made demand:
"And now, O Krishna, tell us thou of him,
Thy master Buddha, how he met his death.
But first, O friends my guests," he added then,
With volatile quick turn, "let us all forth
Into the open underneath the sky
And shake the languor of our sitting off.
The night is fine, no wind, and weather mild;
A half hour's freedom out of doors to breathe
The fresh air, and with motion loose our limbs
And make our blood brisk, will be nigh as good
As a night's sleep for health to body and mind."
Host and symposiarch, Publius clapped his hands,
And to the servants promptly answering said:
"Lamps, and more braziers brim with glowing coals;
Also refection, cakes and wine, good store."
Therewith the company dispersed at will,
Wandering in groups or singly as each chose.
Said Publius, "not like that of any man."
He spoke with reverence far from insincere,
And yet a note of shallow in his tone
Was dissonant to the feeling of the hour.
This, Krishna with a fine discernment felt
When Publius turned to him, and made demand:
"And now, O Krishna, tell us thou of him,
Thy master Buddha, how he met his death.
But first, O friends my guests," he added then,
With volatile quick turn, "let us all forth
Into the open underneath the sky
And shake the languor of our sitting off.
The night is fine, no wind, and weather mild;
A half hour's freedom out of doors to breathe
The fresh air, and with motion loose our limbs
And make our blood brisk, will be nigh as good
As a night's sleep for health to body and mind."
Host and symposiarch, Publius clapped his hands,
And to the servants promptly answering said:
"Lamps, and more braziers brim with glowing coals;
Also refection, cakes and wine, good store."
Therewith the company dispersed at will,
Wandering in groups or singly as each chose.
When, after a brief interval, they all
Were under roof once more, refreshed with change,
Publius said: "The evening yet is long,
And all the night thereafter is ours for sleep,
With an untouched to-morrow if need be
To borrow from and piece the measure out.
Eat ye and drink at leisure and at ease;
Meanwhile, and not to overtask our friend
Here who likewise shall share his equal chance
With us of what may stay hunger and thirst,
Let us content our nobler appetite
With viand brought us out of utmost Ind."
Were under roof once more, refreshed with change,
Publius said: "The evening yet is long,
And all the night thereafter is ours for sleep,
With an untouched to-morrow if need be
To borrow from and piece the measure out.
Eat ye and drink at leisure and at ease;
Meanwhile, and not to overtask our friend
Here who likewise shall share his equal chance
With us of what may stay hunger and thirst,
Let us content our nobler appetite
With viand brought us out of utmost Ind."
The Roman hugged himself with a pleased sense
That he had turned his genial phrases right.
That he had turned his genial phrases right.
The Indian for his part, not voluble
By nature, would have wished to hold his peace;
For Mary's tale had wrought upon him so
That he was lost in thought and absentness.
Loth rallied out of mute to use of speech,
He felt the bonds of courtesy and said:
"O Publius, would thou hadst rather been content
To leave this Hebrew story uncompared.
I have no means to parallel it so
As need were I should do for right effect;
Since neither was I present to behold,
Nor lives there record by eyewitness made."
By nature, would have wished to hold his peace;
For Mary's tale had wrought upon him so
That he was lost in thought and absentness.
Loth rallied out of mute to use of speech,
He felt the bonds of courtesy and said:
"O Publius, would thou hadst rather been content
To leave this Hebrew story uncompared.
I have no means to parallel it so
As need were I should do for right effect;
Since neither was I present to behold,
Nor lives there record by eyewitness made."
As these words wavering from the Indian fell,
The dimness of the lamplight in the room,
Clouded with fumy issue from the flame,
Seemed to become a symbol of that dark,
That doubtful, that uncertain, which he thus
Shadowed his tale withal—strange contrast felt
To the eyewitness truth and lifelikeness
Of Mary's story by full daylight told.
But Krishna heartened himself to firmly say:
"Howbeit there is tradition that we trust.
This holds the voyage was peaceful toward the end,
The voyage of Buddha through the last of life;
Not without pain, but peaceful as was fit
For voyage slow tending to the port of peace.
There was no persecution of the Buddh;
Or he had long outlived it ere his death.
He died among old friends who loved him well,
Soothing him toward nirvâna with all heed
Of healing words spoken to him or heard
From him, and nothing lacked to stay his steps,
As he declined gently, with neither haste
To go hence nor desire to linger here,
Down the slow slope that slides into the sea
Of utter, utter void and nothingness.
The dimness of the lamplight in the room,
Clouded with fumy issue from the flame,
Seemed to become a symbol of that dark,
That doubtful, that uncertain, which he thus
Shadowed his tale withal—strange contrast felt
To the eyewitness truth and lifelikeness
Of Mary's story by full daylight told.
But Krishna heartened himself to firmly say:
"Howbeit there is tradition that we trust.
This holds the voyage was peaceful toward the end,
The voyage of Buddha through the last of life;
Not without pain, but peaceful as was fit
For voyage slow tending to the port of peace.
There was no persecution of the Buddh;
Or he had long outlived it ere his death.
He died among old friends who loved him well,
Soothing him toward nirvâna with all heed
Of healing words spoken to him or heard
From him, and nothing lacked to stay his steps,
As he declined gently, with neither haste
To go hence nor desire to linger here,
Down the slow slope that slides into the sea
Of utter, utter void and nothingness.
"It was a kindly office rendered him
By a fast friend, Kunda his name, that brought,
He far from meaning it, the master's end.
Kunda prepared his master's food, a dish
Of swine's flesh dried, with savory messes dressed.
Our lord waxed weary with walking, for he was old;
Full fifty years long since his wasted youth
(Wasted his youth had been on fleshly lusts),
He had gone the beggar's ways from door to door
While he taught men how to escape from life;
Weary thus, Buddha rested in a grove
Of mangoes; his disciples, a great band,
Accompanying. Kunda's was the grove, and he
Sat by the master's side, and with his ears
Drank in deep draughts of wisdom from those lips.
Then he besought the master to partake,
The master with his disciples to partake,
Refreshment on the morrow at his house;
By silence Buddha signified assent.
By a fast friend, Kunda his name, that brought,
He far from meaning it, the master's end.
Kunda prepared his master's food, a dish
Of swine's flesh dried, with savory messes dressed.
Our lord waxed weary with walking, for he was old;
Full fifty years long since his wasted youth
(Wasted his youth had been on fleshly lusts),
He had gone the beggar's ways from door to door
While he taught men how to escape from life;
Weary thus, Buddha rested in a grove
Of mangoes; his disciples, a great band,
Accompanying. Kunda's was the grove, and he
Sat by the master's side, and with his ears
Drank in deep draughts of wisdom from those lips.
Then he besought the master to partake,
The master with his disciples to partake,
Refreshment on the morrow at his house;
By silence Buddha signified assent.
"So at the hour boar's flesh was offered him;
And he did not refuse it for himself,
But bade his host give other food to them,
His brethren; sweet rice was their share, and cakes.
Some prescience warned him what the end would be;
'For other none, save such as I myself,'
The Blesséd One to Kunda listening said,
'Were able to receive this nourishment,
The boar's flesh, and convert it to right use.
So what remains thereof when I have done,
Bury it under ground and eat it not.'
So spoke lord Buddha and partook the meat.
But he was seized straightway with colic pangs
That griped him sore; long time be sought in vain
For ease to his distress; but he was calm
And fully self-possessed amid it all,
Uttering no complaint. Relieved at last
A little, he to his attendant said—
Ânanda that one was, the Venerable—
'On now to Kusinârâ I will go.'
And he did not refuse it for himself,
But bade his host give other food to them,
His brethren; sweet rice was their share, and cakes.
Some prescience warned him what the end would be;
'For other none, save such as I myself,'
The Blesséd One to Kunda listening said,
'Were able to receive this nourishment,
The boar's flesh, and convert it to right use.
So what remains thereof when I have done,
Bury it under ground and eat it not.'
So spoke lord Buddha and partook the meat.
But he was seized straightway with colic pangs
That griped him sore; long time be sought in vain
For ease to his distress; but he was calm
And fully self-possessed amid it all,
Uttering no complaint. Relieved at last
A little, he to his attendant said—
Ânanda that one was, the Venerable—
'On now to Kusinârâ I will go.'
"But going, he fell weary with the way
And rested underneath a tree. 'I thirst,'
To Ânanda he said; 'fetch me to drink.'
But Ânanda replied: 'This stream, behold,
Is turbid, roiled with many passing wheels:
Yon other river is a pleasant stream,
With banks that make it easy of access.'
'I thirst, O Ânanda,' the master said
A second time, repeating the same words.
And yet a second time too Ânanda
Repeated that the nearer stream was foul,
And the one farther on approachable
And clear. A third time Buddha said, 'I thirst,'
And a third time repeated those same words.
Then Ânanda no longer made demur,
But took a bowl and to the streamlet went.
The water that had just been roiled with wheels
Was flowing limpid, bright, and sweet. He thought,
'How wonderful, how marvellous, the power,
The might, of the Tathâgata!' But he,
The Blesséd One, received the bowl and drank.
(Tathâgata we call our Buddha, so
Honoring him as one who holds himself
Filially faithful to ancestral ways.)
And rested underneath a tree. 'I thirst,'
To Ânanda he said; 'fetch me to drink.'
But Ânanda replied: 'This stream, behold,
Is turbid, roiled with many passing wheels:
Yon other river is a pleasant stream,
With banks that make it easy of access.'
'I thirst, O Ânanda,' the master said
A second time, repeating the same words.
And yet a second time too Ânanda
Repeated that the nearer stream was foul,
And the one farther on approachable
And clear. A third time Buddha said, 'I thirst,'
And a third time repeated those same words.
Then Ânanda no longer made demur,
But took a bowl and to the streamlet went.
The water that had just been roiled with wheels
Was flowing limpid, bright, and sweet. He thought,
'How wonderful, how marvellous, the power,
The might, of the Tathâgata!' But he,
The Blesséd One, received the bowl and drank.
(Tathâgata we call our Buddha, so
Honoring him as one who holds himself
Filially faithful to ancestral ways.)
"To Kusinârâ faring forward still
The Buddha sowed instructions all the way.
But that which he in his forethoughtful care
Said for the solacing of Kunda's mind,
Should Kunda peradventure afterward
Hear some one say to him, 'O Kunda, that
Was evil to thee and loss, that Buddha died
Having partaken his last meal with thee'—
What Buddha said forefending blame like that,
Was memorable. He Ânanda thus taught:
'Tell Kunda: That was good to thee, and gain,
That the Tathâgata then died when he
Had his last meal as guest of thine partaken.
There is no offering of alms in food
Of greater profit unto him who gives
Than when one offers a Tathâgata
Food that once eaten by him he departs
With that complete departure wherein naught
Of all that late he was is left to be.
The Buddha sowed instructions all the way.
But that which he in his forethoughtful care
Said for the solacing of Kunda's mind,
Should Kunda peradventure afterward
Hear some one say to him, 'O Kunda, that
Was evil to thee and loss, that Buddha died
Having partaken his last meal with thee'—
What Buddha said forefending blame like that,
Was memorable. He Ânanda thus taught:
'Tell Kunda: That was good to thee, and gain,
That the Tathâgata then died when he
Had his last meal as guest of thine partaken.
There is no offering of alms in food
Of greater profit unto him who gives
Than when one offers a Tathâgata
Food that once eaten by him he departs
With that complete departure wherein naught
Of all that late he was is left to be.
"One admonition our lord Buddha gave
In those last times with him, which let me pray
From some of you pardon that I report;
New lessons I have learned of womanhood,
Sharing these feasts of converse with you all.
Now Ânanda inquired of Buddha this:
'How, master, shall we deal with womankind?'
'O Ânanda,' the master made reply,
'Refrain from seeing them.' But Ânanda
Said: 'If by chance we see them at some time?'
'Abstain, O Ânanda, from speech with them,'
The Blesséd One made answer. Ânanda
Once more: 'O master, if they speak to us?'
'Bestir your senses to keep well awake,'
The Buddha said in final warning word."
In those last times with him, which let me pray
From some of you pardon that I report;
New lessons I have learned of womanhood,
Sharing these feasts of converse with you all.
Now Ânanda inquired of Buddha this:
'How, master, shall we deal with womankind?'
'O Ânanda,' the master made reply,
'Refrain from seeing them.' But Ânanda
Said: 'If by chance we see them at some time?'
'Abstain, O Ânanda, from speech with them,'
The Blesséd One made answer. Ânanda
Once more: 'O master, if they speak to us?'
'Bestir your senses to keep well awake,'
The Buddha said in final warning word."
The Indian paused hereon, his eyes down dropt,
A noble gentle shame confusing him.
He would have added (what, not added, Paul
Felt in his manner of reticence implied)
Tardy acknowledgment of fault his own
That he at first had spurned the thought proposed
To him of learning aught from Mary's lips;
Acknowledgment condign, with suit to be
Judged gently since his master so had taught—
All this he would have said in words outright,
But sense of other duty kept him dumb;
Besides that he was conscious in his mind
Of being by Paul already understood.
A noble gentle shame confusing him.
He would have added (what, not added, Paul
Felt in his manner of reticence implied)
Tardy acknowledgment of fault his own
That he at first had spurned the thought proposed
To him of learning aught from Mary's lips;
Acknowledgment condign, with suit to be
Judged gently since his master so had taught—
All this he would have said in words outright,
But sense of other duty kept him dumb;
Besides that he was conscious in his mind
Of being by Paul already understood.
Publius as master of the feast perceived
Blindly that here a rally of some sort
Was needed for the rescue of the cheer
Just trembling on the balance to be lost.
He was perplexed, but his perplexity
Was his resource better than ready wit.
For, with a quick dependent instinct, he
Turned him to Paul unconsciously confessed
Ascendent wheresoever he might be,
And Paul, thus silently appealed to, spoke:
"Such thought of woman is not from the Lord;
The Lord our God made woman one with man.
Equal? Nay, equal not. Inferior? Nay,
Nor equal nor inferior; as too not
Superior; rather, part of him, as he
Of her, they twain together one, and whole
Neither without the other. He is head,
Not lord and master to rule over her,
As she not slave, not servant, to be ruled;
She, of her will unforced, subject to him
Through joyful choice of reverence and of love,
And he, with equal mutual reverent love,
Honoring her and cherishing as himself."
Blindly that here a rally of some sort
Was needed for the rescue of the cheer
Just trembling on the balance to be lost.
He was perplexed, but his perplexity
Was his resource better than ready wit.
For, with a quick dependent instinct, he
Turned him to Paul unconsciously confessed
Ascendent wheresoever he might be,
And Paul, thus silently appealed to, spoke:
"Such thought of woman is not from the Lord;
The Lord our God made woman one with man.
Equal? Nay, equal not. Inferior? Nay,
Nor equal nor inferior; as too not
Superior; rather, part of him, as he
Of her, they twain together one, and whole
Neither without the other. He is head,
Not lord and master to rule over her,
As she not slave, not servant, to be ruled;
She, of her will unforced, subject to him
Through joyful choice of reverence and of love,
And he, with equal mutual reverent love,
Honoring her and cherishing as himself."
"So is it with you," said Krishna, "as I have seen
With wonder, and admired; almost convinced
That ye herein are better taught than I.
If I perchance in anything have failed
Of reverence meet toward womankind, I pray
Pardon ye it to me; and hold besides
That haply my lord Buddha had himself
Judged otherwise herein, with other types
To judge from of what womankind may be."
With wonder, and admired; almost convinced
That ye herein are better taught than I.
If I perchance in anything have failed
Of reverence meet toward womankind, I pray
Pardon ye it to me; and hold besides
That haply my lord Buddha had himself
Judged otherwise herein, with other types
To judge from of what womankind may be."
"Yea," Paul said, "he but judged from what he saw;
Not knowing he, as our Lord Jesus knew,
What God from the beginning and before
Established as the order of His world,
And looked upon it and pronounced it good.
But also what your Buddha judged amiss
Became a force creating what he saw;
For teaching and believing, subtle powers,
Are plastic to conform us to themselves.
What ye believe of woman, teaching her
To know that ye believe it of her, yea,
Making her half believe it of herself,
This she hereby, even in her own despite,
Tends to become; if it unworthy be,
Then all the issuing stream of humankind,
Fouled at the fountain thus, flows forth corrupt
And ever more corrupt—the stream turned back
With every generation to its source,
And adding to the feculence of that.
Not knowing he, as our Lord Jesus knew,
What God from the beginning and before
Established as the order of His world,
And looked upon it and pronounced it good.
But also what your Buddha judged amiss
Became a force creating what he saw;
For teaching and believing, subtle powers,
Are plastic to conform us to themselves.
What ye believe of woman, teaching her
To know that ye believe it of her, yea,
Making her half believe it of herself,
This she hereby, even in her own despite,
Tends to become; if it unworthy be,
Then all the issuing stream of humankind,
Fouled at the fountain thus, flows forth corrupt
And ever more corrupt—the stream turned back
With every generation to its source,
And adding to the feculence of that.
"The ruin has no remedy but one.
The Lord Christ by a woman came to us,
And opened a new fountain for our race,
Pure, more than pure, for purifying too.
Life drawn from Him, life fed from Him, life lived
In Him and for Him, that alone is pure,
And endless because boundless; blesséd; joy,
And peace, and power, and triumph evermore.
His life may all through faith in Him partake,
Faith which unites us vitally to Him.
Christ is the founder of a race redeemed,
Redeemed from sin, and death, and every ill.
In Him believing, we rejoice with joy
Unspeakable and full of glory, now
Already though before the time in hope.
Belief in misery makes miserable.
We do not need to be defeated so;
Thanks be to God Most High who giveth us
The victory through Jesus Christ our Lord!
The Lord Christ by a woman came to us,
And opened a new fountain for our race,
Pure, more than pure, for purifying too.
Life drawn from Him, life fed from Him, life lived
In Him and for Him, that alone is pure,
And endless because boundless; blesséd; joy,
And peace, and power, and triumph evermore.
His life may all through faith in Him partake,
Faith which unites us vitally to Him.
Christ is the founder of a race redeemed,
Redeemed from sin, and death, and every ill.
In Him believing, we rejoice with joy
Unspeakable and full of glory, now
Already though before the time in hope.
Belief in misery makes miserable.
We do not need to be defeated so;
Thanks be to God Most High who giveth us
The victory through Jesus Christ our Lord!
"Would that thy Buddha groping in his dark,
Nobly as seems, with that maimed nobleness
Which only is left possible by sin
Without a Savior known, ah, would that he
Had known a Savior such as Christ the Lord!
Nobly as seems, with that maimed nobleness
Which only is left possible by sin
Without a Savior known, ah, would that he
Had known a Savior such as Christ the Lord!
"Yet let us hear, O Publius, if so please
Thee and so please Krishna likewise, the rest
Concerning Buddha's death. We shall at least,
Sorrowing with wholesome sorrow for his case,
Learn from such high example how far short
The highest human and the best, unhelped,
Must fall of helping helpless humankind."
Thee and so please Krishna likewise, the rest
Concerning Buddha's death. We shall at least,
Sorrowing with wholesome sorrow for his case,
Learn from such high example how far short
The highest human and the best, unhelped,
Must fall of helping helpless humankind."
The tone of just authority in Paul,
Felt to be not assertion of himself
But fealty to his Lord effacing self,
Was mixed so with a suasive gentleness
In manner and even a certain deference
To other as that other's right from him,
All without harm or loss allowed to truth,
That Krishna was both charmed and overawed
While discomposed not, and he thus went on:
"Ânanda was concerned to know what dues
Of honor should be paid to the remains
Of the Tathâgata when he was gone.
But Buddha said: 'Ye must not wrong yourselves
To honor the Tathâgata's remains;
Others will honor these. Be zealous ye,
I pray you, on your own behalf. Devote
Yourselves to your own profit. Earnest be
And eager and intent for your own good.'
Yet Buddha taught that the Tathâgata
Was to be honored after his decease
By rites of reverence to his remains
Like those accorded to a king of kings,
Felt to be not assertion of himself
But fealty to his Lord effacing self,
Was mixed so with a suasive gentleness
In manner and even a certain deference
To other as that other's right from him,
All without harm or loss allowed to truth,
That Krishna was both charmed and overawed
While discomposed not, and he thus went on:
"Ânanda was concerned to know what dues
Of honor should be paid to the remains
Of the Tathâgata when he was gone.
But Buddha said: 'Ye must not wrong yourselves
To honor the Tathâgata's remains;
Others will honor these. Be zealous ye,
I pray you, on your own behalf. Devote
Yourselves to your own profit. Earnest be
And eager and intent for your own good.'
Yet Buddha taught that the Tathâgata
Was to be honored after his decease
By rites of reverence to his remains
Like those accorded to a king of kings,
"Now Ânanda the Venerable was weighed
To heaviness with sorrow at the thought:
'Alas, I still am but a learner, much
To me remains of labor, ere I reach
Nirvâna; and my master, he so kind,
Is on the point to pass away from me.'
So, leaned against the lintel of the door,
Ânanda stood and thought and thinking wept.
But Buddha sending called him to himself,
And said: 'Enough, O Ânanda, weep not,
Nor let thyself be troubled. Have I not
Oft told thee that it deep inheres in things
The nearest and the dearest unto us,
That we must leave them, rend ourselves away,
Sever ourselves from them? How could it be,
Ânanda, otherwise than thus? For know,
Whatever thing is born, whatever comes
Into existence, holds within itself
The seed of dissolution and decay;
Such being therefore needs must cease to be.
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been,
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Thrice say I this that thou mayst know it well:
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been,
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Thou hast well done, O Ânanda. Faint not,
Thou too shalt soon Anâsava become'—
Whereby our lord meant his disciple soon
Should touch the wished-for goal himself was now
Nigh touching, blest nirvâna, last surcease
Of all the ills that sum up human life.
To heaviness with sorrow at the thought:
'Alas, I still am but a learner, much
To me remains of labor, ere I reach
Nirvâna; and my master, he so kind,
Is on the point to pass away from me.'
So, leaned against the lintel of the door,
Ânanda stood and thought and thinking wept.
But Buddha sending called him to himself,
And said: 'Enough, O Ânanda, weep not,
Nor let thyself be troubled. Have I not
Oft told thee that it deep inheres in things
The nearest and the dearest unto us,
That we must leave them, rend ourselves away,
Sever ourselves from them? How could it be,
Ânanda, otherwise than thus? For know,
Whatever thing is born, whatever comes
Into existence, holds within itself
The seed of dissolution and decay;
Such being therefore needs must cease to be.
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been,
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Thrice say I this that thou mayst know it well:
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been,
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Long time thou, Ânanda, to me hast been
By many offices of love, most near,
Unchanging love and without measure large.
Thou hast well done, O Ânanda. Faint not,
Thou too shalt soon Anâsava become'—
Whereby our lord meant his disciple soon
Should touch the wished-for goal himself was now
Nigh touching, blest nirvâna, last surcease
Of all the ills that sum up human life.
"At length lord Buddha said to Ânanda:
'Go now for me into Kusinârâ
And tell them the Tathâgata is here,
Close on the point to pass forever away.
Say: Leave no room to chide yourselves too late:
Alas, and he in our own village died,
He, the Tathâgata, and we then failed
To come and visit him in his last hours.'
So all the dwellers in Kusinârâ
Came and did honor to the Blesséd One.
'Go now for me into Kusinârâ
And tell them the Tathâgata is here,
Close on the point to pass forever away.
Say: Leave no room to chide yourselves too late:
Alas, and he in our own village died,
He, the Tathâgata, and we then failed
To come and visit him in his last hours.'
So all the dwellers in Kusinârâ
Came and did honor to the Blesséd One.
"Then to the brethren of the order he
Said: 'If in mind perchance to any of you
Doubt or misgiving lurk concerning aught,
The Buddh, the truth, the path, the way, inquire
Freely before I pass, that afterward
Ye have not to reproach yourselves that ye
Being face to face with him failed to inquire.'
With one accord, the brethren held their peace.
The second and the third time those same words
Did the Tathâgata to them address;
But even the third time they were silent all.
Then with much pitiful concern for them
The Buddha said: 'It may be out of awe
Of me, your master, ye keep silence thus.
Speak therefore ye, I pray, among yourselves.'
But all the brotherhood were silent still.
Then Ânanda the Venerable spoke up
And said: 'A wonder and a marvel, lord,
I truly think there has not one of us
A doubt or a misgiving in his mind
As to the Buddh, the truth, the path, the way.
The Blesséd One made answer: 'Ânanda,
Thou from the fulness of thy faith hast spoken;
But the Tathâgata for certain knows
Not one of these five hundred brethren all
Doubt or misgiving has concerning aught,
The Buddh, the truth, the path, the way. No one
Of all but guarded is from future birth
To suffering; your salvation is secure.'
He added: 'Brethren, I exhort you, know,
Decay inheres in whatsoever is,
Of parts composed, since these may be dissolved.
Inflame your zeal, make your salvation sure.'
The last word that of the Tathâgata.
Said: 'If in mind perchance to any of you
Doubt or misgiving lurk concerning aught,
The Buddh, the truth, the path, the way, inquire
Freely before I pass, that afterward
Ye have not to reproach yourselves that ye
Being face to face with him failed to inquire.'
With one accord, the brethren held their peace.
The second and the third time those same words
Did the Tathâgata to them address;
But even the third time they were silent all.
Then with much pitiful concern for them
The Buddha said: 'It may be out of awe
Of me, your master, ye keep silence thus.
Speak therefore ye, I pray, among yourselves.'
But all the brotherhood were silent still.
Then Ânanda the Venerable spoke up
And said: 'A wonder and a marvel, lord,
I truly think there has not one of us
A doubt or a misgiving in his mind
As to the Buddh, the truth, the path, the way.
The Blesséd One made answer: 'Ânanda,
Thou from the fulness of thy faith hast spoken;
But the Tathâgata for certain knows
Not one of these five hundred brethren all
Doubt or misgiving has concerning aught,
The Buddh, the truth, the path, the way. No one
Of all but guarded is from future birth
To suffering; your salvation is secure.'
He added: 'Brethren, I exhort you, know,
Decay inheres in whatsoever is,
Of parts composed, since these may be dissolved.
Inflame your zeal, make your salvation sure.'
The last word that of the Tathâgata.
"Yet did he not with that last word expire,
But enter into a state ineffable.
From stage to stage, four stages, he advanced,
Of meditation more and more withdrawn.
A fifth stage followed, one of vacancy
Compact: all seeming substance, seeming form,
Abolished to the mind, and naught but space,
Pure space, empty and formless, colorless,
Spun out to infinite on every side.
The next degree abolished also space,
Replacing that with reason infinite.
But reason infinite then passed away,
Dispersed into a sense of nothingness.
Then sense of nothingness, that yielded too,
And neither anything nor nothing was
A presence in sensation to the soul.
But beyond that he passed into a state
Between unconsciousness and consciousness;
Whence next he issued in a farther stage
Wherein no trace of consciousness remained.
Then of two venerables there watching, one
Said to the other, 'The Blessèd One is dead;'
But, 'Nay,' that other made reply, 'not dead,
Only beyond where thought or feeling is.'
But enter into a state ineffable.
From stage to stage, four stages, he advanced,
Of meditation more and more withdrawn.
A fifth stage followed, one of vacancy
Compact: all seeming substance, seeming form,
Abolished to the mind, and naught but space,
Pure space, empty and formless, colorless,
Spun out to infinite on every side.
The next degree abolished also space,
Replacing that with reason infinite.
But reason infinite then passed away,
Dispersed into a sense of nothingness.
Then sense of nothingness, that yielded too,
And neither anything nor nothing was
A presence in sensation to the soul.
But beyond that he passed into a state
Between unconsciousness and consciousness;
Whence next he issued in a farther stage
Wherein no trace of consciousness remained.
Then of two venerables there watching, one
Said to the other, 'The Blessèd One is dead;'
But, 'Nay,' that other made reply, 'not dead,
Only beyond where thought or feeling is.'
"Then by regress the Blesséd One returned
The way that he had traversed, stage by stage,
Till, having reached the first stage, now the last,
That of deep meditation, he expired.
The way that he had traversed, stage by stage,
Till, having reached the first stage, now the last,
That of deep meditation, he expired.
"So our lord Buddha having all the depths
Sounded unto their nethermost, and scaled
Unto their topmost all the soaring heights,
Of thought and being, like a weaver's shuttle
To and fro passing, and found naught at all
The substance and the basis of the world,
Himself at last absorbed in the abyss
Escaped existence and sank into peace."
Sounded unto their nethermost, and scaled
Unto their topmost all the soaring heights,
Of thought and being, like a weaver's shuttle
To and fro passing, and found naught at all
The substance and the basis of the world,
Himself at last absorbed in the abyss
Escaped existence and sank into peace."
The lamps had burned to low, and some of them
Had flickered to a fall, while Krishna spoke—
Their fumy flames meanwhile blurring the air
To dimness deepened with the deepening night.
The stillness of the room was audible,
Accented by the murmurous monotone
Of Krishna's muffled, bland, and inward voice.
The strange, far-off, unreal, unthinkable
Last things he told involved the laboring mind
Too, in a sense confused of cloud and dark.
When he ceased speaking, with that word pronounced,
"Peace," like a hollow sphere of sound, no core,
It was as if, with that for spell outbreathed,
Nirvâna softly would engulf them all.
Had flickered to a fall, while Krishna spoke—
Their fumy flames meanwhile blurring the air
To dimness deepened with the deepening night.
The stillness of the room was audible,
Accented by the murmurous monotone
Of Krishna's muffled, bland, and inward voice.
The strange, far-off, unreal, unthinkable
Last things he told involved the laboring mind
Too, in a sense confused of cloud and dark.
When he ceased speaking, with that word pronounced,
"Peace," like a hollow sphere of sound, no core,
It was as if, with that for spell outbreathed,
Nirvâna softly would engulf them all.
But one was there to whom such spell was naught.
"'Peace,'" Publius said, reechoing the word,
As pondering what the purport of it was,
"'Peace,' I should think must be a euphemism,
As the Greeks say when they avoid a name,
The right name, for a thing to be avoided.
There is no peace, unless there be some one
To have the peace; but Buddha then was not,
Had vanished like a breath breathed on the air,
If of his end I have understood thee right."
"Thou hast not misunderstood," said Krishna; "yet
We shrink from saying of Buddha, 'He is not.'
We sheathe the sense, and softly say instead,
'He has ceased to suffer,' 'He has touched the goal.'
Himself he would not say, 'I shall not be;'
But if he taught us true that life is woe,
Then not to suffer, needs is not to live:
Save not to live, salvation there is none."
"'Peace,'" Publius said, reechoing the word,
As pondering what the purport of it was,
"'Peace,' I should think must be a euphemism,
As the Greeks say when they avoid a name,
The right name, for a thing to be avoided.
There is no peace, unless there be some one
To have the peace; but Buddha then was not,
Had vanished like a breath breathed on the air,
If of his end I have understood thee right."
"Thou hast not misunderstood," said Krishna; "yet
We shrink from saying of Buddha, 'He is not.'
We sheathe the sense, and softly say instead,
'He has ceased to suffer,' 'He has touched the goal.'
Himself he would not say, 'I shall not be;'
But if he taught us true that life is woe,
Then not to suffer, needs is not to live:
Save not to live, salvation there is none."
"Aye," Publius said, "I see, a euphemism;
A needed euphemism, and well devised.
For who, not weary of life through long defeat,
Or through disease, old age, or loss of good,
Or else exhausted in the springs of joy
Within himself through waste of youth and health
In those excesses which bring on decay
Before its season—who not broken so,
Here and there one, not many in any time,
Would to that bait proffered without disguise,
Mere blank non-being, spring with appetite?
And those, the few who did, would they await
Nirvâna as the goal of long pursuit,
Not snatch it instant with rash suicide?
We Romans have a growing fashion of so
Precipitately rushing on our end.
I trow thou wouldst in vain strive to persuade
Us Romans to spend tedious years and years
In seeking not to live so as not to suffer;
We should be too impatient far for that."
"O Publius," Krishna said, "rash suicide
Is no escape from life. Life has its snare
Safe round thee still, and thou art born again
Into another form, another state,
Worse, and not better, than before. The Path,
That only, leads thee to the utter end:
So Buddha taught and so I have believed."
A needed euphemism, and well devised.
For who, not weary of life through long defeat,
Or through disease, old age, or loss of good,
Or else exhausted in the springs of joy
Within himself through waste of youth and health
In those excesses which bring on decay
Before its season—who not broken so,
Here and there one, not many in any time,
Would to that bait proffered without disguise,
Mere blank non-being, spring with appetite?
And those, the few who did, would they await
Nirvâna as the goal of long pursuit,
Not snatch it instant with rash suicide?
We Romans have a growing fashion of so
Precipitately rushing on our end.
I trow thou wouldst in vain strive to persuade
Us Romans to spend tedious years and years
In seeking not to live so as not to suffer;
We should be too impatient far for that."
"O Publius," Krishna said, "rash suicide
Is no escape from life. Life has its snare
Safe round thee still, and thou art born again
Into another form, another state,
Worse, and not better, than before. The Path,
That only, leads thee to the utter end:
So Buddha taught and so I have believed."
The Indian ceased thus with the air of one
Wavering where he had certain been before;
And Publius felt that he for Krishna spoke,
Scarce less than for himself, when he inquired:
"Aye, aye, how know we that the 'Path,' to name
Thus by thy word a thing to me unknown,
How know we that the Path, even that, indeed
Will lead one out of life to nothingness?
If so be Buddha's doctrine holds, and life
Slides on from form to form, from state to state,
Unhindered by the fact of suicide,
How know we that there ever comes an end?
Consider, he himself, the teacher, may,
Who knows?—this moment while we talk of him
Be fleeting forward on the endless flight
Fatal of that metempsychosis preached.
What surety have we that it is not so?
Wavering where he had certain been before;
And Publius felt that he for Krishna spoke,
Scarce less than for himself, when he inquired:
"Aye, aye, how know we that the 'Path,' to name
Thus by thy word a thing to me unknown,
How know we that the Path, even that, indeed
Will lead one out of life to nothingness?
If so be Buddha's doctrine holds, and life
Slides on from form to form, from state to state,
Unhindered by the fact of suicide,
How know we that there ever comes an end?
Consider, he himself, the teacher, may,
Who knows?—this moment while we talk of him
Be fleeting forward on the endless flight
Fatal of that metempsychosis preached.
What surety have we that it is not so?
"And since so much we ask, let us ask more,
O Krishna. How know we the master died
After the manner that thou toldst us of?
That Kunda's kindly hospitable meal
Was followed by that sickness to his guest;
That his guest bore it with sweet fortitude,
Not intermitting his serene discourse
The while, yet weakening slowly till he died—
Thus much, I say, might be observed by those
Who stood about the master so bestead;
But who could tell that in his secret mind
The dying Buddha accomplished all that strange
Vicissitude and movement to and fro,
Which thou in honey-flowing speech describedst,
But which, pardon, I could not understand.
Himself, the Buddha, uttered not one word
Through all, made not a motion nor a sign.
How, pray, did those disciples round him pierce
The dark and silence of their master's mind,
To know what passed therein?" "Ah," Krishna said,
"The master had foretold those things would be
To him, and they believed, and therefore knew."
O Krishna. How know we the master died
After the manner that thou toldst us of?
That Kunda's kindly hospitable meal
Was followed by that sickness to his guest;
That his guest bore it with sweet fortitude,
Not intermitting his serene discourse
The while, yet weakening slowly till he died—
Thus much, I say, might be observed by those
Who stood about the master so bestead;
But who could tell that in his secret mind
The dying Buddha accomplished all that strange
Vicissitude and movement to and fro,
Which thou in honey-flowing speech describedst,
But which, pardon, I could not understand.
Himself, the Buddha, uttered not one word
Through all, made not a motion nor a sign.
How, pray, did those disciples round him pierce
The dark and silence of their master's mind,
To know what passed therein?" "Ah," Krishna said,
"The master had foretold those things would be
To him, and they believed, and therefore knew."
"Aye," Publius said, "they knew by faith, not proof;
But we, we of the West, are fond of proof.
Yet proof of Buddha's dying so as thou
Describedst, proof likewise that he, so dying,
Was cancelled quite from out the universe—
Proof of these things, conceded these things were,
Would, I can see, be no wise possible;
We may believe them, but we cannot prove.
Now if thy master had taught otherwise,
Contrariwise indeed, that life, not death—
Not death, but life victorious over death—
Was the chief good, and that this good the chief
Might be attained by us, and how attained,
That were a doctrine would have cheered one more,
And been besides more capable of proof.
At least good proof of it might be conceived.
Buddha, supposed extinguished utterly
Out of the world, he being nowhere at all,
Could not come hither back and testify,
'Behold me, I am non-existent now.'
But one who taught the opposite, who taught
That death was not the end of life, if he
Himself, having died, could conquer death and live,
Could living hither come and speak to us,
And say, 'I told you I would rise again!'
Why, Krishna, that were proof and 'Path' indeed,
Aye, path as solid as a Roman road.
But we, we of the West, are fond of proof.
Yet proof of Buddha's dying so as thou
Describedst, proof likewise that he, so dying,
Was cancelled quite from out the universe—
Proof of these things, conceded these things were,
Would, I can see, be no wise possible;
We may believe them, but we cannot prove.
Now if thy master had taught otherwise,
Contrariwise indeed, that life, not death—
Not death, but life victorious over death—
Was the chief good, and that this good the chief
Might be attained by us, and how attained,
That were a doctrine would have cheered one more,
And been besides more capable of proof.
At least good proof of it might be conceived.
Buddha, supposed extinguished utterly
Out of the world, he being nowhere at all,
Could not come hither back and testify,
'Behold me, I am non-existent now.'
But one who taught the opposite, who taught
That death was not the end of life, if he
Himself, having died, could conquer death and live,
Could living hither come and speak to us,
And say, 'I told you I would rise again!'
Why, Krishna, that were proof and 'Path' indeed,
Aye, path as solid as a Roman road.
"It seems from this our Hebrew lady's tale,
That Jesus, ere he suffered on the cross,
Promised again and yet again that he
Would rise the third day from the dead and live.
I doubt not thou thyself, with all of us,
Wouldst gladly farther hear from her at full
Whether and how this promise was fulfilled."
That Jesus, ere he suffered on the cross,
Promised again and yet again that he
Would rise the third day from the dead and live.
I doubt not thou thyself, with all of us,
Wouldst gladly farther hear from her at full
Whether and how this promise was fulfilled."
"That is a tale for a new day and dawn,"
Paul said; "the resurrection of the Lord
Was morning before morning when it came.
Mary, not waiting for daybreak, repaired
By twilight to His tomb and found it void.
A great while before day the Lord sometimes
Would rouse him and go forth apart to pray;
Perhaps a great while before day He now
Woke from the sleep of death, and left his tomb.
What morning then it was dawned on the world!"
Paul said; "the resurrection of the Lord
Was morning before morning when it came.
Mary, not waiting for daybreak, repaired
By twilight to His tomb and found it void.
A great while before day the Lord sometimes
Would rouse him and go forth apart to pray;
Perhaps a great while before day He now
Woke from the sleep of death, and left his tomb.
What morning then it was dawned on the world!"
"Well thought," said Publius; "let us at daybreak,
Some day not long hence when the weather smiles,
Meet out of doors and see sunrise, while we
Hear also of that sunrise on the world
Paul in his master's resurrection finds;
Whereof to hear at least, surely were sweet.
Spring hastens hither, with the punctual sun
Returning from his winter in the south.
There will not fail a weather warm enough,
Some select balmier morning by and by,
To make it pleasant for us, in a place
I know of on the sheltered ocean shore
Fronting full east, to meet and hear a tale
So well befitting spring and morning both
As a tale told of victory over death.
I will, if so it please all, undertake
To rally you in season when signs say, Now!"
Some day not long hence when the weather smiles,
Meet out of doors and see sunrise, while we
Hear also of that sunrise on the world
Paul in his master's resurrection finds;
Whereof to hear at least, surely were sweet.
Spring hastens hither, with the punctual sun
Returning from his winter in the south.
There will not fail a weather warm enough,
Some select balmier morning by and by,
To make it pleasant for us, in a place
I know of on the sheltered ocean shore
Fronting full east, to meet and hear a tale
So well befitting spring and morning both
As a tale told of victory over death.
I will, if so it please all, undertake
To rally you in season when signs say, Now!"
Thereon the company broke up, with thanks
From each guest to the host for heartsome cheer
Provided; and with silent prayer from each
That God would bless him through their guestship there
More than he dreamed of needing to be blessed!
From each guest to the host for heartsome cheer
Provided; and with silent prayer from each
That God would bless him through their guestship there
More than he dreamed of needing to be blessed!