IV.
“She has wrought a good work on me....she is come aforehand to anoint
my body to the burying.”—Mark xiv. 6—8.
The costly nard of Indian wilds she brought,
And from the' unsealēd alabaster shed
Its perfume on that more than regal head,
Uncrowned save with its glory. Love thus sought,
In homage with prophetic import fraught,
Duly to tend that Guest so mild, so dread.
Its mystic meaning by her Lord was read:
“She did it for my burial, and hath wrought
A good work on me.” Other duteous hands
In vain the sweet, embalming spices bore.
His form saw no corruption, owned no bands
In the sepulchral rock. The conflict sore
By Death's defeat fulfilled, the Victor stands,
With many crowns, a King for evermore.
