University of Virginia Library

Then saw I rise
A shape with broad bold brow and fearless eyes,
Behind him as he came a murmuring train
Of augurs, soothsayers, and armèd men,
With gentle priests of Ceres and of Pan.
‘Room there,’ they cried aloud, ‘for Julian!’
Bareheaded, helm in hand, he took his place
Before the Accused, a smile upon his face.

‘Thy name was Julian?’

He answered, ‘Yes!
I wore the Imperial robe in gentleness,
And looking on the World around my throne
I heard the wretched weep, the weary moan,
Saw Nature sickening because this Man wrought
To scatter poison in the wells of Thought,
So that no Soul might live in peace and be
Baptised in wisdom and philosophy;
Wherefore I summoned from their lonely graves
The Spirits of the Mountains and the waves,
The tutelary Sprites of flowers and trees,
The rough wild Gods and naked Goddesses,
And all alive with joy they leapt around
My leaf-hung chariot, to the trumpet's sound!
Yea, and I wakened from ancestral night
The human shapes of Healing and of Light—
Asclepios with his green magician's rod,
And Aristotle, Wisdom's grave-eyed god,
And bade them teach the natural law and prove
The eternal verities of Life and Love.
What then? I fail'd. This Serpent could elude
My priests, however swiftly they pursued,
And since I warned them not to slay with steel
Nor bruise it cruelly beneath the heel,
It lived amid their very footprints, fed
On blood and tears, upraised the impious head,
Then last, still living on my day of doom,
Stung my pale corpse and coil'd upon my tomb!
Oh, had I guessed that mercy could not win
Blood from the stone, or change the Serpent's skin,
That pity and loving kindness ne'er could gain
Foothold in Superstition's black domain,
Then surely I the avenging sword had bared
And slain in mercy what I blindly spared!
Twas but a spark! one stamp of foot, and lo!
The thing had perished! Fool, to let it grow!
So that it grew as such foul hell-fire can,
Spreading from City unto City of Man,
Turning this World of greenness and sweet breath
Into a charnel-house of shameful Death.
The Galilean conquered as I threw
My last wild jet of life-blood to the blue,
Nature resigned her birthright with a groan,
And Thought, like Niobe, was turn'd to stone!’

His legions shouted faintly as he cast
One glance of scorn on the pale Jew and pass'd
To darkness. Following him, methought, there stalked
Aurelius, calmly musing as he walked,
With many another lesser King of clay,
Who paused and testified, then pass'd away;
So thick they came from out the troubled dark
My brain grew dizzy and I ceased to mark,
Until at last a marble Maiden rose,
Stript naked to the skin and bruised with blows,
Yet fair and golden-haired and azure-eyed
She stood erect with fearless gaze, and cried:

‘I was Hypatia. Round my form fell free
The white robe of a wise virginity,
While in the fountains of the Past I sought
Strange pearls of Dream and dim Platonic thought.
Now, as I gazed therein, I saw full plain
The faces of dead Gods whom men had slain—
How fair they seemed! how gentle and how wise!
The Spirits of the gladsome earth and skies!
And lo, I loved them, and I lit anew
Their vestal lamps that men might love them too,
And so be passionately purified.
The rest ye know. Thro' this same Jew I died.
Peter the Reader and his monkish throng
Found me and slew me, trail'd my limbs along
The streets, and left me, bloody, stark, and dead!’

I watch'd her as with slow and silent tread,
Erect tho' naked, cloth'd with chaste cold Light
As is the virgin votaress of the Night,
She vanished in the darkness. Then for long
I marked the Witnesses in shadowy throng
Come, say their say, and go; from every side
They gathered one by one and testified,
And as they testified against the Jew
Creation darkened and the murmur grew!
Meantime the Accused stood listening, with His eyes
Fixed ever sadly on the far-off skies
Where flocks of patient stars moved slowly, driven
By winds unseen to the dark folds of Heaven,—
And ever as His gaze upon it yearned
The blue Void quicken'd and new splendours burned,
And while the lights of all the stars were shed
As lustrous dew upon His hoary head,
He knelt and prayed!

Then rose a mighty cry
Which shook the solid air and rent the sky,
And flowing thither came a countless crowd
Of women and of men who called aloud
‘Allah il Allah!’—Darkening under Heaven
Like to the waves of Ocean tempest-driven,
Out of the midnight I beheld them come
Up to the Judgment seat and break to foam
Of dusky faces and of waving hands;
And many raised aloft great crookèd brands
And banners where the moonlike crescent burn'd.
Then dimly thro' the darkness I discern'd
A stately turban'd King, who stood alone;
Around his form a prophet's robe was thrown,
And in his hand he bore a scimitar
Unsheath'd and shining radiant like a star;
And on his head there shone a crescent gem,
Bright as the moon; and to his raiment-hem
Clung women, naked, glorious-eyed, and fair,
Houris of Heaven with perfumed golden hair:
And the great Sea of Life, that raged and broke
Behind him, sank to silence as he spoke,
Awed by the gleam of his dark eyes; for lo!
He paused not, but moved onward proud and slow,
Saying, as past the Judgment Seat he strode,
‘This man cried, “I am Allah! very God!”
Yet helpless as a slaughter'd lamb he fell
Beneath the angry breath of Azraèl,
Great Allah's Angel, sent to avenge his Lord!
But I, who raised alike the Cross and Sword,
In Allah's name, his Prophet, was content
To avow myself the man by Allah sent
To do his will in proud humility.
So men forgot this Jew, and turn'd to me,
Who on the desert-sands my flag unfurled
And wrought great miracles to amaze the world!
Upon the neck of Kings my foot was set,
And all the Nations knew me—Mahomet!’

And at the name the echoing millions roar'd
‘Allah il Allah!—Mighty is the Lord!
Mahomet is his prophet!’ Cloud on cloud,
Wave following wave, with clash of tumult loud,
The mighty Sea of Lives passed onward crying,
‘Allah il Allah!’ and ever multiplying;
And when the far-off western horizon
Was darkened yet with those who had come and gone,
Millions still came from the eastward, sweeping by
The Judgment seat with that victorious cry;—
And endless seem'd the space of time until
The swarms had pass'd, and all again was still,—
When, fronting the Accused, the Accuser cried:
‘Greater than this pale Jew men crucified
Was he whose mighty star, blood-red and bright,
Shines on the minarets of the Islamite!’
But as he spake, out of the East there came
One follow'd, too, with clangorous acclaim—
A human Shape, wrapt in white lamb-like wool,
Star-eyed and sad and very beautiful,—
A sceptre in his hand, and on his head
A crown of silver, brightly diamonded;
Who, flying swift as wind on veilèd feet,
Approach'd, and pausing at the Judgment seat,
Cried:

‘Sleeping in my Sepulchre, wherein
I deem'd myself secure from sense and sin,
A voice disturbed me, and awakening,
I heard wild voices o'er the Nations ring,
Naming the names of lesser gods than I.
Deathless I pause, while all the rest pass by—
They taught them how to live, I taught them how to die!
Heir of the realms of sorrow and despair,
I, Gautama, the Buddha, gently bare
The Lily, and not the Cross, and not the Sword,
And countless thousands hailed me King and Lord!
What voices break my rest? What impious strife
Stirreth my sleep and brings me back to life?—
Yea, plucks me from God's breast, whereon I lay,
To take my place again 'mong Kings of clay,
Inheritors of Sorrow!’

Even as
He spake, the throngs who follow'd bent like grass
Wind-blown to worship him!

With radiant head
He pass'd on, follow'd by the Quick and Dead.
And in that train I saw, or seem'd to see,
Other inheritors of Deity—
His Brethren, Gods or God-like, following:
Pale Zoroaster, crownèd like a King;
Menú and Moses, each with radiant look
Cast on the pages of an open Book;
Confucius, in a robe of saffron hue,
Enwrought with letters quaint of mystic blue;
Prometheus, dragging yet his broken chain,
And gazing heavenward still, in beautiful disdain.

Ghostwise they testified and vanishèd,
These mighty spirits of the god-like Dead;
Some reverend and hoary, some most fair,
With brightness in their eyes and on their hair,
Each kingly in his place, and in his train
Souls of fair worshippers that Jew had slain.