 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Aird |  |
III.
High walks the midnight moon: wide opening go
The gates of Zion to Othuriel's blow,
Struck by his sounding spear; Joanna there
Forth stands to take young Tamar from his care.
But entering with them through a stern array
Of jealous guards he dared his onward way,
Jealous but silent all; till, as he passed,
They closed behind him and the gates made fast,
With crowding murmurs. But he heard them not,
Far other things are in his eager thought;
For, homeward with Joanna as he goes,
The tokens of his parentage he shows.
How dares he go? he thinks not, heeds not, he,
All else forgot, his mother's face must see.
His sister leads him home; remote from all,
He waits his mother in a silent hall.
She came:—“My son!” He met her dear embrace,
And long he sobbed and wept upon her face.
Down then he knelt:—“My mother! let me go
And ask great Rome to hold thee not a foe,
To save you all, if you your son would give
One chance with gleams of happiness to live.
This be my purpose; though, all else forgot,
To see my mother was my only thought.
But more than sorrow shall my coming be,
Oh dread my going, if I save not thee.
Swift let me go, thus save you; then for aye
With you in native Judah will I stay.”
The gates of Zion to Othuriel's blow,
Struck by his sounding spear; Joanna there
Forth stands to take young Tamar from his care.
But entering with them through a stern array
Of jealous guards he dared his onward way,
Jealous but silent all; till, as he passed,
They closed behind him and the gates made fast,
With crowding murmurs. But he heard them not,
Far other things are in his eager thought;
For, homeward with Joanna as he goes,
The tokens of his parentage he shows.
How dares he go? he thinks not, heeds not, he,
All else forgot, his mother's face must see.
His sister leads him home; remote from all,
He waits his mother in a silent hall.
She came:—“My son!” He met her dear embrace,
And long he sobbed and wept upon her face.
111
And ask great Rome to hold thee not a foe,
To save you all, if you your son would give
One chance with gleams of happiness to live.
This be my purpose; though, all else forgot,
To see my mother was my only thought.
But more than sorrow shall my coming be,
Oh dread my going, if I save not thee.
Swift let me go, thus save you; then for aye
With you in native Judah will I stay.”
“Behold,” she said, “my late-won soldier, here
Thy father's shield, his helmet and his spear,
Who living now had been a full-orbed name—
Start not, my son, he died but lives in fame.
His great example, for our country's sake,
Thee the fulfiller of his deeds must make.
Joanna told me something, but my ear
Alone the tokens of my son could hear.
What though, your birth unknown, for Rome you fought?
No blame was yours, yours was no traitor's thought.
Known now your birth, Rome has no claim on you;
A Jew must do the duties of a Jew.
For this, my boy, I nursed thee on my knees,
In days gone by, beneath our native trees.
Thee forth I'll lead all gloriously; come then,
Put on the harness of our mighty men.
Why look'st thou so? Oh wherefore, if not free
To fight for Zion, art thou come to me?”
Thy father's shield, his helmet and his spear,
Who living now had been a full-orbed name—
Start not, my son, he died but lives in fame.
His great example, for our country's sake,
Thee the fulfiller of his deeds must make.
Joanna told me something, but my ear
Alone the tokens of my son could hear.
What though, your birth unknown, for Rome you fought?
No blame was yours, yours was no traitor's thought.
Known now your birth, Rome has no claim on you;
A Jew must do the duties of a Jew.
For this, my boy, I nursed thee on my knees,
In days gone by, beneath our native trees.
Thee forth I'll lead all gloriously; come then,
Put on the harness of our mighty men.
Why look'st thou so? Oh wherefore, if not free
To fight for Zion, art thou come to me?”
“Thou wife—ah! widow—of the man I slew!
(I say not mother, I'm no son to you;
Though pangs take hold on me, and sore affright
To call you else) what shall I do this night?
'Twas I that slew him. Oh but let me say
Had nature blest me in my early day,
Had I been reared upon thy sacred knee,
(Oh let me name that name so dear to me!)
My mother, ever mine! then had I ne'er
By such a deed been linked unto despair.
I knew him not. But what shall quell the shame
That still remains? Apostate is my name.
My birth unknown I plead not, up I grew
In all the nurture of a warrior Jew:
This land was mine; yet darkly did I go
And swear with Rome to lay Jerusalem low,
Because my father in the Sanhedrim
(My foe, I since have learned, misleading him)
Denounced me as a traitor: from their gate
Forth was I driven by Envy and by Hate.
Dread was my oath! that oath must I pursue,
And with high hand do what I have to do.
Yet see me kneel—oh help me to contrive
Some surest way to save thy house alive:
Let not my oath another parent cost;
Oh let me, let me not be wholly lost!”
He said, and knelt. His mother's gone: he heard
The turning bolt: he finds himself in ward.
Lean men came in. They chained him. He was led
Down to a vault: a lamp was overhead.
There to a pillar of black gopher-wood
Brought near, a fettered prisoner he stood.
(I say not mother, I'm no son to you;
Though pangs take hold on me, and sore affright
To call you else) what shall I do this night?
'Twas I that slew him. Oh but let me say
Had nature blest me in my early day,
112
(Oh let me name that name so dear to me!)
My mother, ever mine! then had I ne'er
By such a deed been linked unto despair.
I knew him not. But what shall quell the shame
That still remains? Apostate is my name.
My birth unknown I plead not, up I grew
In all the nurture of a warrior Jew:
This land was mine; yet darkly did I go
And swear with Rome to lay Jerusalem low,
Because my father in the Sanhedrim
(My foe, I since have learned, misleading him)
Denounced me as a traitor: from their gate
Forth was I driven by Envy and by Hate.
Dread was my oath! that oath must I pursue,
And with high hand do what I have to do.
Yet see me kneel—oh help me to contrive
Some surest way to save thy house alive:
Let not my oath another parent cost;
Oh let me, let me not be wholly lost!”
He said, and knelt. His mother's gone: he heard
The turning bolt: he finds himself in ward.
Lean men came in. They chained him. He was led
Down to a vault: a lamp was overhead.
There to a pillar of black gopher-wood
Brought near, a fettered prisoner he stood.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Aird | |