The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
XVIII.
Even then, methought, that angry living Sea
Surged round Him, and again I did discern
The Phantoms of Golgotha!—Soldiers stern
Who pointed with their spears and pricked Him on,
While on His shoulders drooping woe-be-gone
They thrust the great black Cross! Upon His head
A crown of thorns was set, and dript its red
Dark drops upon His brow, while loud they cried
‘Lo, this is Jesus whom we crucified,
And lo, he hath risen, and shall die once more!’
And as a waif is cast on some dark shore
By breaking waves of Ocean and is ta'en
Back by the surge again and yet again,
Even so the Man was tost, till He lay prone,
Breathless, a ragged heap, beneath the Throne.
Surged round Him, and again I did discern
The Phantoms of Golgotha!—Soldiers stern
Who pointed with their spears and pricked Him on,
While on His shoulders drooping woe-be-gone
They thrust the great black Cross! Upon His head
A crown of thorns was set, and dript its red
Dark drops upon His brow, while loud they cried
‘Lo, this is Jesus whom we crucified,
And lo, he hath risen, and shall die once more!’
And as a waif is cast on some dark shore
By breaking waves of Ocean and is ta'en
Back by the surge again and yet again,
Even so the Man was tost, till He lay prone,
Breathless, a ragged heap, beneath the Throne.
Golgotha! Like the very Hill of Death,
Skull-shapen, yet a living thing of breath,
The dark Judge loom'd, with orbs of fateful flame,
And motion'd back the crying crowd that came
Shrieking for judgment on that holy head;
And lo, they faltered back!
Skull-shapen, yet a living thing of breath,
The dark Judge loom'd, with orbs of fateful flame,
And motion'd back the crying crowd that came
Shrieking for judgment on that holy head;
And lo, they faltered back!
Then the Voice said
‘Arise, O Jew!’
‘Arise, O Jew!’
And Jesus rose.
‘Again
Take up thy Cross!’
Take up thy Cross!’
Calm, with no moan of pain,
Jesus took up the Cross. While 'neath its load
He shook as if to fall, His white hair snow'd
Around His woeful face and wistful eyes!
Jesus took up the Cross. While 'neath its load
He shook as if to fall, His white hair snow'd
Around His woeful face and wistful eyes!
While thus He stood, bowed down in pain, the cries
Of those who loved Him pierced His suffering heart.
Trembling He heard again, with lips apart
And listening eyes, the faithful remnant moan:
‘Adonai! Lord and Master! Take thy Throne
And claim thy Kingdom!’ but with clamorous sound
Of laughter fierce and mad the cry was drowned,
And at His naked breast the forkèd light
Stabb'd like a knife, while thro' the gulfs of Night
The thunders roar'd!
Of those who loved Him pierced His suffering heart.
Trembling He heard again, with lips apart
And listening eyes, the faithful remnant moan:
‘Adonai! Lord and Master! Take thy Throne
And claim thy Kingdom!’ but with clamorous sound
Of laughter fierce and mad the cry was drowned,
And at His naked breast the forkèd light
Stabb'd like a knife, while thro' the gulfs of Night
The thunders roar'd!
Trembling at last He rose,
And as a wind-smit tree shakes off the snows
That cling upon its boughs, He gatherèd
His strength together, and with lifted head
Gazed at His Judge; and lo, again the storm
Of darkness ebbed away and left His Form
Serene and luminous as an Alpine peak
Shining above these valleys! On His cheek
The sheeted light gleam'd softly, while on high
The silent azure open'd like an eye
And gazed upon Him, pitilessly fair.
And as a wind-smit tree shakes off the snows
That cling upon its boughs, He gatherèd
His strength together, and with lifted head
Gazed at His Judge; and lo, again the storm
Of darkness ebbed away and left His Form
Serene and luminous as an Alpine peak
Shining above these valleys! On His cheek
242
The silent azure open'd like an eye
And gazed upon Him, pitilessly fair.
So round about Him as He waited there
Silence like starlight fell, till suddenly,
Like surge innumerable of one great Sea,
A million voices moaned, ‘Speak now His Doom!’
Silence like starlight fell, till suddenly,
Like surge innumerable of one great Sea,
A million voices moaned, ‘Speak now His Doom!’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |