University of Virginia Library

Pale through the azure expanse of the sky the moon was ascending;
Like intangible snow its breath of silvery vapor
Softly fell through the fields of the air o'er the slumbering city.
Then, with tremulous gleam, the stars burst forth, and Orion
Shone with a frosty sheen, and a vague and luminous shimmer
Rained from the Milky Way. But pure, and ghostly, and solemn
Rose the stately façde of the temple of Jupiter Stator;
Hushed and empty beneath, as if touched with a chilly remoteness,
Lay the white square of the Forum, where loomed the Phocian column
High in the moon-bathed stillness. The sculptured arch of Severus
Glimmered palely amidst the temples of deified Cæsars;
While, 'neath the brow of the Palatine Hill, the vast Coliseum
Flung its mantle of gloom to hide the deeds of the darkness,
Wrought on this terrible day for the joy of a barbarous people.
Sheltered deep in the shade of those huge and cavernous portals
Stood, close pressed to the stone, a little quivering maiden.
Fearless she stood and with burning eyes through the iron-barred gate-way
Gazed at the sated beasts that yawning drowsed in the shadow,—
Drowsed or slunk with velveted tread o'er the star-lit arena;
Snuffing, perchance, as they went the mangled form of a martyr,
Sightless, that stared with insensible orbs to the moon-flooded heavens.
Trembling she stood, and hugged the rigid bars of the iron
Close to her breast; but her sense seemed dead, and feeling, she felt not.
Silence brooded about her; until at the mouth of the portal
Sounded the clank of a lance upon the pavement of lava.
Then she turned with a start, though she long had expected the signal,
Saw 'gainst the brightness without three men advancing to meet her—
One a youth in the garb of the far-famed imperial legion,
Rugged the others and clad in the humble attire of the freedmen.
“Glaucus, I thank thee,” so spoke in a shuddering whisper the maiden;
“Christ, who seeth in secret, this kindly deed will requite thee.
Now unbar me the gate and bid these brethren await me
Here, in the gloom of this arch, until I have rescued the bodies
Safe from the fangs of the beasts, that piously we may commit them
Unto the consecrate earth. My soul is constant and fearless,
E'en though weak be the flesh. Perchance may the Lord hold me worthy
Here to receive for the sake of His name the crown of the martyr;
Then return to our brethren, and bid them kneel at the altar
Breathing a prayer for the soul of their sorrowful sister, Calpurnia.”
“Child, thou temptest the Lord,” the soldier Glaucus made answer.
“‘Let the dead bury their dead,’ for thus the Master hath spoken;
Wheresoever they rest, His hand, O sister, will reach them.”
“Glaucus,” she said, “I am lonely, and yearn and weep for my mother.
Lo, my poor life is a smoking flax and a reed that is bruiséd.
Pray the good Jesus to quench the feeble spark of my being—
He hath no work upon earth for one that was weak and denied Him.”
Heaving a sigh, the soldier undid the bolts and the barriers,
And with unfaltering feet Calpurnia passed through the gate-way,
Murmured the blessed name which protects from the powers of evil,
Feeling a new-born strength that gushed through her veins and her fibres;
While with loud-beating heart the soldier gazed from the portal:
“Ah, Christ Jesus defend her! Death's jaws are yawning before her!
Seest thou not the sleek beast that yonder lurks by the pillar,
Crouching now for the leap?—now leaping? My vision forsakes me!
Heavenly Lord, where art thou that thus—but my sense is delirious—
Brothers, support me! Great God! Unharmed she stands, and a halo
Beams from her sorrowful face! Now stoops she and tenderly gazes
Into the sunken eyes of a saint. Oh, hie thee, sweet sister!
Dangers untold encompass thy path! Behold how she raises
Full to the moon the prostrate form, and kisses the pallid
Lips of the dead. O brothers, make haste—why stand we inactive?
Quick, draw the bolts from the gate! Oh, why do ye linger?
Hush! How the air doth quake! The roar of the Libyan lion
Rolls with thunderous echoes around the empty arena.
Darkness gathers about me! The moon in the mist-flooded distance
Loses her light and fades. The stars grow dim and unsteady.
Hark! from afar a faint shriek—a groan! Ye angels, forsake her
Not in her hour of need! I tremble! What see ye, my brethren?
Aid mine unfaithful eyes! Do ye hear a choked supplication
Rise through the stillness of night? And footsteps methinks that draw nearer—
Now retreating again? What is that? On the brink of perdition
Totters my foot! For behold, do ye see in the seat of the Cæsars,
Yonder, above the black arch, the shape of a togaclad Roman?
Lost! Just God, I am lost! Do ye see how he stares unaverted,
Fierce, at the void within, like a beast that is sated with murder?
He resembles, methinks, Ausonius Mycon, the prætor!
Lord, thou hast visited swiftly my sin and my weakness upon me!
Yet I shall tremble no more! I will tread where my Savior has trodden!”

Thus spake Glaucus, but ere his sad voice had expired in the twilight,
Saw he Calpurnia stand at the portal and beckoning to him.
Pale she stood and erect, and her frame seemed frail and translucent,
As if the light of the radiant soul were shimmering through it;
And at her feet, with withered lips and rigidly staring,
Lay her beloved dead; and Glaucus, forgetting his terror,
Straightway unbarred the gate, that, grating, swung on its hinges,—
Listed the lifeless clay of the saints, and tenderly placed them
Side by side on a bier, and hid their blood-sprinkled garments,
Hid their gaping wounds, 'neath a shroud of precious linen.
Seizing the bier the freedmen emerged from the gloom of the portal;
Swiftly they moved through the night, and Calpurnia followed behind them,
Down the Appian Way and on through the Porta Latina.
Tearless and dumb she hurried away o'er the smooth-trodden pavement,
Feeling scarcely the weight of her limbs, nor the touch of the lava—
Feeling only a world of woe that throbbed in her bosom.
“Ah, little maid, thy grief makes thee blind, and thy vigilant senses
List to the tumult within and thy heart's tempestuous beating;
Dulled are thine ears to the muffled tread of sandaled footsteps—
Footsteps whose shadowy sound awakens no treacherous echo
From the dim gates of the tombs, where sleep the mighty departed.
Nor do thy fevered eyes descry in the gathering twilight
Something that steals through the mist, now tarries a while at the way-side,
Then, with a peering gaze and noiselessly, hasteneth onward,
Pausing when thou dost pause, and when thou advancest, advancing.”