University of Virginia Library

Then, waiting on and watching thro' the gloom,
I saw the glimmer of an open Tomb
Hewn in the mountain-side, and thence a band
Crown'd and tiara'd, each with Cross in hand,
Of woeful Phantoms issued, murmuring:
‘We were the Vicars of this Christ, our King!
And lo, he let us reign!—and sins like lice
Ran o'er us, while we sought with foul device
To cloak the living Lie on which we fed!’

And one cried, ‘As I lay upon my bed,
My leman at my side, mine hands still red
With mine own brother's blood they strangled me!’

And one laugh'd, ‘With this Cross as with a key
I open'd up the caves where Monarchs kept
Their secret gold!’

And one who wail'd and wept,
Yet could not speak, gaped with black jaws forlorn
To show the mouth whence the red tongue was torn.

And one said, ‘Murder was my handmaiden!
I made a Throne with bones of butcher'd men
And set her there, and in my Master's name
Baptised her!’ And all those others cried again—
‘We were his Vicars, and he bade us reign!’
Back to the Tomb they crept with senile cries,
Mumbling with toothless gums and blinking eyes
Thick with the rheum of age!—and in their stead
Rose shapes of butcher'd Seers whose wounds still bled,
And some were clothen with consuming flame
As with a garment, crying as they came:
‘We saw all Nature blacken'd far and wide
Because this Jew was dead yet had not died,
For thro' the world of broken hearts he went
Demanding blood and tears for sacrament,
Crowning the proud and casting down the just,
Lighting the altar-flames of Pride and Lust,
Calling the Deadly Sins accurst and dire
To be his acolytes and to feed the fire
Through which we perish'd; yet we testified
With all our Souls against him ere we died!’

O Night of terror! O dark suffering Night,
With wounded bleeding heart and great eyes bright
With starry portents and serene despairs!
I saw them, one by one, the ghostly heirs
Of Wisdom and of Woe, the Souls long fled
Who died like Him, and like Him are not dead,
The Great, the Just, the Good, who cannot die,
Because this piteous Phantom passeth by,
And when they fain would slumber, murmureth
‘Lo, Christ is God, and God hath vanquish'd Death!’

Like wave on wave they came, like cloud on cloud.
Before the Throne stood one wrapt in his shroud,
And bearing in his lean uplifted hand,
That shook but did not fall, a flaming Brand.
The Judge spake (while I dream'd who this might be):
‘Thy name?’

‘Galileo, of Italy,’
He answer'd; while two other shapes in white
Crept to him, on the left hand and the right.
‘These Brethren, standing side by side with me,
Wore the white raiment of Philosophy,
Yet died in anguish, butcher'd in Christ's name.
He on my right hand, Bruno, died by flame.
He on my left, Castilio, starved for bread.
We saw the Heavenly book above us spread,
We pored upon its living lines of fire,
And saw therein the Name of God the Sire.
Upon us as we ponder'd, thought and prayed,
Came this man's Priests and Soldiers, and betrayed
Our Souls to torture and to infamy!’

‘'Tis well. Ye kept your Souls sublime and free,
And he who slew you waits for judgment there!’

Suddenly, with a shriek that rent the air,
Shadows on shadows throng'd around and cried:
‘We, too, were slain because we testified!
Our bones are scattered white in every land!
We pass'd the Fiery Torch from hand to hand:
Fast as one fell, another raised it high,
Till he in turn was smitten down to die.
Yet on, from clime to clime, from pole to pole,
It pass'd, and lit the Beacons of the Soul,
Till wheresoever men could gaze they saw
The fiery signs and symbols of the Law,
Older than God, which saith the Soul is free!’

The Accuser smiled, and rising quietly,
With ominous lifted hand, ‘O Judge,’ he cried,
‘If I should question all men who have died
Because this Jew once quickened in the sun,
Eternity would pass ere all was done.
Enough to know, wherever men have striven
To read the open scrolls of Earth and Heaven,
Wherever in their sadness they have sought
To find the stainless flowers of lonely Thought,
Raising the herb of Healing and the bloom
Of Love and Joy, this man from out his Tomb
Hath stalk'd, and slaying the things their souls deem'd fair
Hath poison'd all their peace and stript them bare.
Century on century, as men count Time,
This man hath been a curse in every clime;
So that the World, once the glad home of men,
Hath been a prison and a lazar-den,
A place of darkness whence no Soul might dare
To seek the golden Earth and heavenly air,
Save fearfully, with panting lips apart,
Fearing the very throb of his own heart
As 'twere a death-knell; nay, this Jew set free
Disease and Pestilence and Leprosy
To crawl like loathsome monsters and destroy
Great Cities once alive with life and joy;
And of all foul things fouler than the beasts
Were this Man's Servants and approven Priests,
Stenching the Cities wheresoe'er they trod,
Poisoning the fountains in the name of God.
Save for this Jew, a thousand years ago
Man might have known what he awakes to know—
The luminous House of flesh and blood most fair,
Rainbow'd from dust and water and sweet air,
The green Earth round it, and the Seas that roll
To cleanse the Earth from shining pole to pole,
The Heavens, and Heavens beyond without a bound,
The Stars in their processions glory-crown'd,
Each star so vast that it transcends our dreams,
So small, a child might grasp it, so it seems,
Like a light butterfly! The wondrous screed
Of Nature open lay for Man to read;
World flashed to world, in yonder Void sublime,
The messages of Light and Change and Time;
The Sea had voices, and the Spirit of Earth
Had sung her mystic runes of Death and Birth,
Of all the dim progressions Life had known,
And writ them on the rocks in words of stone;
Nay, Man's own Soul was as a mirror, bright
With luminous changes of the Infinite!
And yet Man rested blind beneath the sky
Because this Jew said, “Close thine eyes, or die!”
Enough—pass onward one by one, ye throng
Who sinn'd thro' Christ, or suffer'd shame and wrong;
Stay not to speak—your faces shall proclaim,
More loud than tongues, your martyrdom and shame!’

Ghostwise they pass'd along before my sight,
Martyrs of truth and warriors of the right,
Some reverend and hoary, some most fair
With sunrise in their eyes and on their hair.
So swift they came and fled, I scarce had space
To note them, but full many a world-famed face
Came like a breaking wave and went again:
Justinian, living, yet a corpse, as when
They tore him from his tomb; old, gaunt, and grey,
The Master of the Templars, Du Molay,
Clasp'd by the harlot, Fire,—follow'd by pale
And martyr'd warriors bleeding 'neath their mail;
Abelard, still erect on stubborn knees
Facing the storms of Rome, and Eloise
Clad like an abbess, from his eyes of fire
Drinking eternal passion and desire;
King Frederick, his step serene and strong
As if he trod on altars, with his throng
Of warriors, Christian and Saracen;
Great Algazalli and wise Alhazen,
White-robed and clam, with many a lesser man
Wrapt in the peace of lore Arabian;
Pale Petrarch, laurel-crownèd, gazing on
The white face of that sister woe-begone
Who thro' the lust of Christ's own Vicar fell;
John Huss, still wrapt around with fires of Hell,
Clutching the Book he bore with piteous tears.

Silent they pass'd, the Martyrs and the Seers,
Known and unknown, the Heirs of love and praise;
And last the Three who with undaunted gaze
Faced the great Ocean of Earth's mystery,
Mighty and strong as when from sea to sea
They sail'd and sail'd: De Gama following
Columbus, who with sea-bird's sleepless wing
Flew on from Deep to Deep; and, mightiest,
Magellan, faring forward on his quest,
Putting the craven cowls of Rome to shame,
And lighting Earth and Heaven with his resplendent name!