University of Virginia Library

I.

Serene in the moonlight the pure flowers lay;
All was still save the plash of the fountain's soft play;
And white as its foam gleam'd the walls of the palace;
But within were hot lips quaffing fire from the chalice;
For Herod the Tetrarch was feasting that night
The lords of Machærus, and brave was the sight!
Yet mournful the contrast, without and within:
Here were purity, peace—there were riot and sin!
The vast and magnificent banqueting-room
Was of marble, Egyptian in form and in gloom;
And around, wild and dark as a demon's dread thought,
Strange shapes, full of terror, yet beauty, were wrought.
The ineffable sorrow that dwells in the face
Of the Sphinx wore a soft and mysterious grace,
Dim, even amid the full flood of light pour'd
From a thousand high clustering lamps on the board;
Those lamps,—each a serpent of jewels and gold,—
That seem'd to hiss forth the fierce flame as it roll'd.
Back flash'd to that ray the rich vessels that lay
Profuse on the tables in brilliant array;
And clear through the crystal the glowing wine gleam'd,
And dazzling the robes of the revellers seem'd,
While Herod, the eagle-eyed, ruled o'er the scene,
A lion in spirit, a monarch in mien.
The goblet was foaming, the revel rose high,
There were pride and fierce joy in the haughty king's eye,
For his chiefs and his captains bow'd low at his word,
And the feast was right royal that burden'd the board.
Lo! light as a star through a gather'd cloud stealing,
What spirit glanced in mid the guard at the door?
Their stern bands divide, a fair figure revealing;
She bounds, in her beauty, the dim threshold o'er.
Her dark eyes are lovely with tenderest truth;
The bloom on her cheek is the blossom of youth;
And a smile, that steals through it, is rich with the ray
Of a heart full of love and of innocent play.
Soft fall her fair tresses her light form around;
Soft fall her fair tresses, nor braided nor bound;
And her white robe is loose, and her dimpled arms bare;
For she is but a child, without trouble or care.
Now round the glad vision wild music is heard,—
Is she gifted with winglets of fairy or bird?
For, lo! as if borne on the waves of that sound,
With white arms upwreathing, she floats from the ground.
Still glistens the goblet,—'tis heeded no more!
And the jest and the song of the banquet are o'er;
For the revellers, spell-bound by beauty and grace,
Have forgotten all earth, save that form and that face.
It is done!—for one moment, mute, motionless, fair,
The phantom of light pauses playfully there;
The next, blushing richly, once more it takes wing,
And she kneels at the footstool of Herod the King.
Her young head is drooping, her eyes are bent low,
Her hands meekly cross'd on her bosom of snow,
And, veiling her figure, her shining hair flows,
While Herod, flush'd high with the revel, arose.
Outspake the rash monarch,—“Now, maiden, impart,
Ere thou leave us, the loftiest hope of thy heart!
By the God of my fathers! whate'er it may be,—
To the half of my kingdom,—'tis granted to thee!”
The girl, half-bewilder'd, uplifted her eyes,
Dilated with timid delight and surprise,
And a swift, glowing smile o'er her happy face stole,
As if some sunny wish had just woke in her soul.
Will she tell it? Ah, no! She has caught the wild gleam
Of a soldier's dark eye, and she starts from her dream;
Falters forth her sweet gratitude,—veils her fair frame,—
And glides from the presence, all glowing with shame.

II.

Of costly cedar, rarely carved,
The royal chamber's ceiling,
The column'd walls, of marble rich,
Its brightest hues revealing.
Around the room a starry smile
The lamp of crystal shed;
But warmest lay its lustre
On a noble lady's head.
Her dark hair, bound with burning gems,
Whose fitful lightning glow
Is tame beside the wild, black eyes
That proudly flash below:
The Jewish rose and olive blend
Their beauty in her face;
She bears her in her high estate
With an imperial grace.
All gorgeous glows with orient gold
The broidery of her vest;
With precious stones its purple fold
Is clasp'd upon her breast.
She gazes from her lattice forth:
What sees the lady there?
A strange, wild beauty crowns the scene,—
But she has other care!
Far off, fair Moab's emerald slopes,
And Jordan's lovely vale;
And nearer,—heights where fleetest foot
Of wild gazelle would fail;
While crowning every verdant ridge,
Like drifts of moonlit snow,
Rich palaces and temples rise,
Around, above, below,
Gleaming through groves of terebinth,
Of palm, and sycamore,
Where the swift torrents, dashing free,
Their mountain music pour;
And arch'd o'er all, the eastern heaven
Lights up with glory rare
The landscape's wild magnificence;—
But she has other care!
Why flings she thus, with gesture fierce,
Her silent lute aside?
Some deep emotion chafes her soul
With more than wonted pride;
But, hark! a sound has reach'd her heart,
Inaudible elsewhere,
And hush'd to melting tenderness,
The storm of passion there!
The far-off fall of fairy feet,
That fly in eager glee;
A voice, that warbles wildly sweet,
Some Hebrew melody!
She comes! her own Salomé comes!
Her pure and blooming child!
She comes, and anger yields to love,
And sorrow is beguiled:
Her singing bird! low nestling now
Upon the parent breast,
She murmurs of the monarch's vow
With girlish laugh and jest:—

I.

“Now choose me a gift and well!
There are so many joys I covet!
Shall I ask for a young gazelle?
'Twould be more than the world to me;
Fleet and wild as the wind,
Oh! how I would cherish and love it!
With flowers its neck I'd bind,
And joy in its graceful glee.

II.