 | Voices from the Mountains |  |
6
THE MAN IN THE DEAD SEA.
AN APOLOGUE.
Walking on the Dead Sea shore,
Meditating evermore,
Underneath the burning ray
Of intolerable day,
I beheld a fearful thing—
Bloody deed as e'er was done,
Wrought, unblushing, unrelenting,
In the presence of the sun.
Meditating evermore,
Underneath the burning ray
Of intolerable day,
I beheld a fearful thing—
Bloody deed as e'er was done,
Wrought, unblushing, unrelenting,
In the presence of the sun.
Fair, and young, and bright was he,
Who that morning walk'd with me
By the margin of the sea;
Calm, and eloquent, and wise,
Radiant in immortal youth;
Knowledge sparkled in his eyes,
From his forehead living truth.
He was a youth indeed divine,
A master and a friend of mine,
For whose dear sake I would have given
All on the mortal side of heaven.
Who that morning walk'd with me
By the margin of the sea;
Calm, and eloquent, and wise,
Radiant in immortal youth;
Knowledge sparkled in his eyes,
From his forehead living truth.
He was a youth indeed divine,
A master and a friend of mine,
For whose dear sake I would have given
All on the mortal side of heaven.
We talk'd together and paced along;
We did no mortal creature wrong;
And sometimes sitting on the sands,
Or on the jutting rocks below,
He look'd at me, and clasp'd my hands,
And told me things I ought to know—
Things of heaven and things of earth,
Things of wisdom and of mirth;
The wisdom cheerful, the mirth most wise,
And both brimful of mysteries.
We did no mortal creature wrong;
And sometimes sitting on the sands,
Or on the jutting rocks below,
He look'd at me, and clasp'd my hands,
And told me things I ought to know—
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Things of wisdom and of mirth;
The wisdom cheerful, the mirth most wise,
And both brimful of mysteries.
There came a woman by the way—
A stately woman, proud and strong;
Her robe of purple velvet shone,
Like a starry night, with precious stone,
And trail'd the sands as she swept along.
She wore a dagger at her side,
Jewel-hilted, bright, and keen:
You might have told, by her crown of gold,
This gorgeous woman was a queen;
But more by her eyes, that flash'd the fire
Of one accustom'd to control;
To rule in awe, and give the law
That binds the body and the soul.
And, in her train, there follow'd her
A well-arm'd troop of stalwart men,
So bloody and bare, I do not care
Ever to see their like again.
A stately woman, proud and strong;
Her robe of purple velvet shone,
Like a starry night, with precious stone,
And trail'd the sands as she swept along.
She wore a dagger at her side,
Jewel-hilted, bright, and keen:
You might have told, by her crown of gold,
This gorgeous woman was a queen;
But more by her eyes, that flash'd the fire
Of one accustom'd to control;
To rule in awe, and give the law
That binds the body and the soul.
And, in her train, there follow'd her
A well-arm'd troop of stalwart men,
So bloody and bare, I do not care
Ever to see their like again.
My friend arose and look'd at her;
Calm and beautiful he stood,
With such magnificence of eye
As God but gives unto the good.
She scowl'd at him; each quivering limb
In all her body spake her wrath;
And her fearful tongue loud curses flung
At the mild presence in her path:
“Monster of evil! fiend of guile!
What brings thee here to blast my sight?
But since thou darest, in the day,
To meet and brave me in the way,
We'll try thy power—we'll know thy right.”
Calm and beautiful he stood,
With such magnificence of eye
As God but gives unto the good.
She scowl'd at him; each quivering limb
In all her body spake her wrath;
And her fearful tongue loud curses flung
At the mild presence in her path:
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What brings thee here to blast my sight?
But since thou darest, in the day,
To meet and brave me in the way,
We'll try thy power—we'll know thy right.”
“Lady,” he said, and mildly spoke,
While heavenly beauty lit his face,
“My God hath made me what I am,
And given me an abiding-place;
And if my presence please thee not,
The world is wide—thou need'st not come
To slay me in each quiet spot,
Where I have sanctified a home.
Thou'st taken from me wide domains,
And follow'd me with hate and scorn;
Enjoy thine own—let me alone—
I wait in patience for the Morn.”
While heavenly beauty lit his face,
“My God hath made me what I am,
And given me an abiding-place;
And if my presence please thee not,
The world is wide—thou need'st not come
To slay me in each quiet spot,
Where I have sanctified a home.
Thou'st taken from me wide domains,
And follow'd me with hate and scorn;
Enjoy thine own—let me alone—
I wait in patience for the Morn.”
A frenzy flush'd her burning brow,
A rage too mighty to contain;
Her nostrils widen'd, and seem'd to smoke;
She grasp'd her neck as she would choke,
And then, like one who suffer'd pain,
Her trembling lips she did compress;
Her cheeks grew cold and colourless.
But soon the madness of her blood
Boil'd in her bosom where she stood;
Her eyes seem'd coals of living flame,
And incoherent curses came,
Gasping and gurgling, from her mouth;—
Never tornado of the south
Made half the wreck as, in that hour,
She would have made, had she the power.
A rage too mighty to contain;
Her nostrils widen'd, and seem'd to smoke;
She grasp'd her neck as she would choke,
And then, like one who suffer'd pain,
Her trembling lips she did compress;
Her cheeks grew cold and colourless.
But soon the madness of her blood
Boil'd in her bosom where she stood;
Her eyes seem'd coals of living flame,
And incoherent curses came,
Gasping and gurgling, from her mouth;—
Never tornado of the south
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She would have made, had she the power.
My friend stood by, with folded arms,
Serene, and innocent, and pure;
And when she saw that he but smiled
At all her hate, she could endure
No longer on his face to look,
But smote it with her jewell'd hand:
“Insensate wretch!” she fiercely said,
“Let me not slay thee where I stand;
I will not stab thee to the heart,
Lest, in my haste, I mar delight,
And thou shouldst die and end thy pain
Too suddenly before my sight.
Not yet thy venomous blood shall flow,
But I will slay thee ere I go!”
Serene, and innocent, and pure;
And when she saw that he but smiled
At all her hate, she could endure
No longer on his face to look,
But smote it with her jewell'd hand:
“Insensate wretch!” she fiercely said,
“Let me not slay thee where I stand;
I will not stab thee to the heart,
Lest, in my haste, I mar delight,
And thou shouldst die and end thy pain
Too suddenly before my sight.
Not yet thy venomous blood shall flow,
But I will slay thee ere I go!”
Her body-guards, so fierce and grim,
Seized his arms and pinion'd him;
And every one, with his gauntlet on,—
An iron gauntlet, heavy to bear,—
Smote him on his cheeks and eyes,
And bruised his lips, so ruddy fair,
Till the blood started, and over-dyed
The bloom of his face with gory red;
And then they spat on him in spite,
And heap'd foul curses on his head.
And he—what could he do but pray,
And let them work their cruel will?—
Turn'd his looks to the judging sky,
Appealing, though forgiving still.
Seized his arms and pinion'd him;
And every one, with his gauntlet on,—
An iron gauntlet, heavy to bear,—
Smote him on his cheeks and eyes,
And bruised his lips, so ruddy fair,
Till the blood started, and over-dyed
The bloom of his face with gory red;
And then they spat on him in spite,
And heap'd foul curses on his head.
And he—what could he do but pray,
And let them work their cruel will?—
Turn'd his looks to the judging sky,
Appealing, though forgiving still.
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Then from his lily skin they tore
Every vestment that he bore;
Smote him, threw him on the ground,
And his limbs with fetters bound;
Naked, helpless, and forlorn,
Mark for all their wrath and scorn;
And with lying words, accused
Of every shame, deceit, and crime;
And, when once he strove to speak,
Fill'd his mouth with sand and slime;
Stamping on him as he lay
Bound and bleeding on the way;
And I, alas! alone, alone!
Could but curse them and bemoan
That I could not, as I trod,
Grasp th' avenging bolts of God.
Every vestment that he bore;
Smote him, threw him on the ground,
And his limbs with fetters bound;
Naked, helpless, and forlorn,
Mark for all their wrath and scorn;
And with lying words, accused
Of every shame, deceit, and crime;
And, when once he strove to speak,
Fill'd his mouth with sand and slime;
Stamping on him as he lay
Bound and bleeding on the way;
And I, alas! alone, alone!
Could but curse them and bemoan
That I could not, as I trod,
Grasp th' avenging bolts of God.
And as he lay upon the beach,
Deprived of motion and of speech,
The queen, that woman so proud and fierce,
Look'd upon him with feverish joy;
Her fiery glances seem'd to pierce
Through and through the bleeding boy;
She put her hand on his naked breast,
And felt his heart: “Ah! well,” said she,
“It beats and beats, but shall not beat
To vex me thus incessantly.”
And she drew the poniard from her side,
Slowly, calmly, sheath and all;
Unsheathed it, felt if its edge were sharp,
And dipp'd its point in poisonous gall;
And, kneeling down, with flashing face
Gazed upon him in that place.
Deprived of motion and of speech,
The queen, that woman so proud and fierce,
Look'd upon him with feverish joy;
Her fiery glances seem'd to pierce
Through and through the bleeding boy;
She put her hand on his naked breast,
And felt his heart: “Ah! well,” said she,
“It beats and beats, but shall not beat
To vex me thus incessantly.”
And she drew the poniard from her side,
Slowly, calmly, sheath and all;
Unsheathed it, felt if its edge were sharp,
And dipp'd its point in poisonous gall;
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Gazed upon him in that place.
She did not stab him : she grasp'd his flesh
As if she'd tear it from his bones;
Then took the slime from his bleeding mouth,
That she might hear his piteous groans.
He faintly said, “Thou canst not kill;
My charmèd life defies thy will.”
“I can,” she answer'd, whispering low;—
“This is the death that thou shalt know.
Thy days are number'd—thy race is run;
Thou art an insult to the sun.”
And in his breast, up to the hilt,
She plunged the dagger, and wrench'd it round,
Then drew it out with a joyous cry,
And pointed to the ghastly wound;
Then drove it in again—again,
With force redoubled every time;
And left it sticking in his heart
For very luxury of crime.
As if she'd tear it from his bones;
Then took the slime from his bleeding mouth,
That she might hear his piteous groans.
He faintly said, “Thou canst not kill;
My charmèd life defies thy will.”
“I can,” she answer'd, whispering low;—
“This is the death that thou shalt know.
Thy days are number'd—thy race is run;
Thou art an insult to the sun.”
And in his breast, up to the hilt,
She plunged the dagger, and wrench'd it round,
Then drew it out with a joyous cry,
And pointed to the ghastly wound;
Then drove it in again—again,
With force redoubled every time;
And left it sticking in his heart
For very luxury of crime.
Sense and motion left his frame,
From his lips no breathing came:
“He's dead,” quoth she; “he's dead at last,
And all my agony is past.
Take him up! let the Dead Sea wave
Float him about without a grave!
Take him up and throw him in!
In these waters none can sink;—
'Mid the foul naphtha let him swim,
To gorge the vultures, limb by limb,
When they come to the water's brink!
And if they come not, let him lie,
Rotting betwixt the wave and sky!—
Take him by the heels and chin,
And spit on him, and cast him in!”
From his lips no breathing came:
“He's dead,” quoth she; “he's dead at last,
And all my agony is past.
Take him up! let the Dead Sea wave
Float him about without a grave!
Take him up and throw him in!
In these waters none can sink;—
'Mid the foul naphtha let him swim,
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When they come to the water's brink!
And if they come not, let him lie,
Rotting betwixt the wave and sky!—
Take him by the heels and chin,
And spit on him, and cast him in!”
They twined their coarse hands in his hair;
They took his body, so white and fair;
They spat upon his patient face,
Pale, but fill'd with heavenly grace;
They took him up, and in the sea,
They cast him ignominiously.
And the fearful woman, proud and strong,
The fiendish woman who did the wrong,
Bade clarion sound, and trumpet play,
And went exulting on her way.
They took his body, so white and fair;
They spat upon his patient face,
Pale, but fill'd with heavenly grace;
They took him up, and in the sea,
They cast him ignominiously.
And the fearful woman, proud and strong,
The fiendish woman who did the wrong,
Bade clarion sound, and trumpet play,
And went exulting on her way.
A sudden wind—a treacherous wind—
Arose upon that Dead Sea shore;
The heavy waves began to swell,
To chafe, and foam, and lash, and roar;
A gloom o'erspread the clear blue sky:—
Once alone I could descry
His fair white limbs go floating by
On the crest of a distant wave;
And I sat me down upon the sand,
Wailing that I, with strong right hand,
Had not snatch'd him from the grave,
And smitten the murd'ress to the dust
Ere she sacrificed the just.
All that day the storm blew high,
And all that day I linger'd there;
There was no living thing but I
On the shore of that sad sea,
And I was moaning piteously.
Towards the night the wind blew fair,
And the silver rim of the bright new moon
Shone in a deep cerulean air,
And look'd at itself in the salt lagoon.
And there was silence, cold as death;
Not a motion but my breath.
Arose upon that Dead Sea shore;
The heavy waves began to swell,
To chafe, and foam, and lash, and roar;
A gloom o'erspread the clear blue sky:—
Once alone I could descry
His fair white limbs go floating by
On the crest of a distant wave;
And I sat me down upon the sand,
Wailing that I, with strong right hand,
Had not snatch'd him from the grave,
And smitten the murd'ress to the dust
Ere she sacrificed the just.
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And all that day I linger'd there;
There was no living thing but I
On the shore of that sad sea,
And I was moaning piteously.
Towards the night the wind blew fair,
And the silver rim of the bright new moon
Shone in a deep cerulean air,
And look'd at itself in the salt lagoon.
And there was silence, cold as death;
Not a motion but my breath.
Long I sat upon the shore,
Brooding on that cruel wrong,
Wondering if for evermore
The evil thing should be the strong:
When I heard a sudden sound,
And saw a phosphorescent track
On the breast of the waves so dull and black.
I listen'd—I could plainly hear
The measured stroke, precise and clear,
Of a swimmer swimming near:—
I look'd—I saw the floating locks,
The face upturn'd, the bosom brave,
The calm full eyes, that look'd on me
Through the darkness of the sea;
The strong limbs, battling with the wave:—
I saw the motion—I heard the breath,
I knew his victory over death.
It was my friend, my living friend;
I clasp'd him, clad him, wept for joy.
“They may think,” he said, “to strike me dead,
They can but wound me—not destroy.
The strongest bands, the fastest chain,
On my free limbs will not remain;
For the deepest wounds that hate can strike,
I find a healing in the air;
Even poison'd weapons cannot kill;
They're powerless on the life I bear.
And she, whose hate pursues me still,
A queen superb, of lofty line,
Shall have her day, then fade away,
And all her empire shall be mine.”
Brooding on that cruel wrong,
Wondering if for evermore
The evil thing should be the strong:
When I heard a sudden sound,
And saw a phosphorescent track
On the breast of the waves so dull and black.
I listen'd—I could plainly hear
The measured stroke, precise and clear,
Of a swimmer swimming near:—
I look'd—I saw the floating locks,
The face upturn'd, the bosom brave,
The calm full eyes, that look'd on me
Through the darkness of the sea;
The strong limbs, battling with the wave:—
I saw the motion—I heard the breath,
I knew his victory over death.
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I clasp'd him, clad him, wept for joy.
“They may think,” he said, “to strike me dead,
They can but wound me—not destroy.
The strongest bands, the fastest chain,
On my free limbs will not remain;
For the deepest wounds that hate can strike,
I find a healing in the air;
Even poison'd weapons cannot kill;
They're powerless on the life I bear.
And she, whose hate pursues me still,
A queen superb, of lofty line,
Shall have her day, then fade away,
And all her empire shall be mine.”
| Voices from the Mountains | |