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She answered: “Once, from green Gennesaret
Passed He, with certain, to the neighbouring coasts
Of Tyre; and would not have that any knew,
But could not veil His greatness. Thou hast seen
Perchance,—or from far-travelled merchant heard—
How stately sits, how strong, how beautiful
That city on her Island of the Sea,
Tyre of the temples, girt with mighty walls,
Which glass themselves like rocks, majestical,
In the green wave laving their feet;—filled full
With ships that come and go,—white birds of the sea
Flown from the farthest verges of the earth,
Spreading or folding wing;—and noise of oars
And ropes, and singing of the merchantmen.
There stood He, on the stair of Melicerth—
God of the City—while there came and went
Folk, as I think, from all the East and West;
Another world of men and women; loud
With traffick, and strange tumults, and new tongues;
And gay with many-coloured garbs. We saw
The thronged streets paved with coral; booths and shops
Bursting with store; long strings of camels; slaves
Bearing red jars of byssus, sealed for Rome;
Hewn cedar logs for Greece; honey, and oil,
Barley and balm and calamus; great bales
Of gum and cassia; with blue-broidered work.
And Tyrian girls danced by, before His eyes,
Clad in the purple peplums; beating skins
Of drum and cymbal; wreathed with myrtle flowers,
Singing their wild way down to Ashtoreth,
The hundred-breasted Goddess of the Moon,
Worshipped with blood. Mild stood the Master there
Watching the busy bright-hued heathen life,
With eyes like those sea-waters, showing half,
Half hiding the deep wonders underneath.
Whom, as He gazed, with, who shall tell what thoughts?
A woman, in the Greek dress, did accost
Plucking His robe, and crying: ‘David's Son!
I know Thee masterful and merciful,
Have pity on my child! A devil rends
Her tender flesh; but Thou, if Thou would'st come,
Could'st heal, and bring Thy servants peace and weal.’
Then He, grieved for the gilded wickedness
Of that fair city, fain for Galilee;
Answered: ‘First must the children's mouths be filled!
It is not well to take the children's bread,
And cast it to the dogs!’ At that, her eyes
Flashed with quick wit of anguish, and she cried:
‘Truth, Lord! but crumbs fall, and the dogs may eat
The children's tearings!’ Then beamed forth anew
That high look on His face, which comforted:
‘For this thy saying go in peace!’ He spake;
‘Thy little Maid is healed!’”