 | Rhymes of our planet |  |
I
The mountain city, fair Jerusalem,
Was sweetly smiling at a faultless sky,
As if she had not, two short years ago,
Condemned the king of every gentle thought.
She had forgot the thunders of that day—
She had forgot the judgments of the past;
And pondered not of future prophecies.
Her ships were full of gold-enticing wares,
Her roads were pressed by multitudes of feet,
Her marble shone like snow-drifts in the sun,
Her domes were braced against the lofty breeze.
Was sweetly smiling at a faultless sky,
As if she had not, two short years ago,
Condemned the king of every gentle thought.
She had forgot the thunders of that day—
She had forgot the judgments of the past;
And pondered not of future prophecies.
Her ships were full of gold-enticing wares,
Her roads were pressed by multitudes of feet,
Her marble shone like snow-drifts in the sun,
Her domes were braced against the lofty breeze.
And through her gates the heavy camel-trains
Came loaded with the wealth of all the lands;
And at his door the merchant-spider stood,
And spun his webs for hurried passers by.
Before the shrines were countless worshippers,
Who prayed for strength to Israel's distant God;
Beneath the shade of gayly decked bazaars,
Or in the depths of rock-protected homes,
Were maids, the germs of future womanhood,
The links of generations soon to live.
Came loaded with the wealth of all the lands;
And at his door the merchant-spider stood,
And spun his webs for hurried passers by.
Before the shrines were countless worshippers,
Who prayed for strength to Israel's distant God;
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Or in the depths of rock-protected homes,
Were maids, the germs of future womanhood,
The links of generations soon to live.
And on the mountain's south and western edge,
A shapely, marble hill-top of itself,
The Temple threw aloft its gleaming prayers.
The Temple, book of precious history,
Imperious offspring of three thousand years,
Cathedral of the faith of Abraham,
Proud, pious Israel's architectural soul!
A shapely, marble hill-top of itself,
The Temple threw aloft its gleaming prayers.
The Temple, book of precious history,
Imperious offspring of three thousand years,
Cathedral of the faith of Abraham,
Proud, pious Israel's architectural soul!
But close beside this splendor was a camp;
And in the camp a Roman legion lived;
And in their grasp were Gentile barbs and blades;
And in their steely eyes a glittering sneer,
Whene'er they saw an angry Jewish brow
Upturned to them with pious, murderous hate.
And in the camp a Roman legion lived;
And in their grasp were Gentile barbs and blades;
And in their steely eyes a glittering sneer,
Whene'er they saw an angry Jewish brow
Upturned to them with pious, murderous hate.
Now up a narrow street there strode a man,
Whose knitted frame, while not of largest mould,
Upheld a face that seemed to seek the sky,
And bade the careless traveller twice to look,
As at a signal on the mountain-top.
His eyes like eagles flew from point to point,
And grasped for prey such morsels as they would,
And bore them to his mind to feed upon;
His age was that where youth has late begun
To keep the step in manhood's sturdy march;
His tread was not the undecided lope
Of him whose body staggers with his mind,
'Twas not the open and indefinite halt,
That goes with him whose journeys are for sale;
'Twas not the cloddish foot-fall of the serf:
It was the progress of a leader born.
Whose knitted frame, while not of largest mould,
Upheld a face that seemed to seek the sky,
And bade the careless traveller twice to look,
As at a signal on the mountain-top.
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And grasped for prey such morsels as they would,
And bore them to his mind to feed upon;
His age was that where youth has late begun
To keep the step in manhood's sturdy march;
His tread was not the undecided lope
Of him whose body staggers with his mind,
'Twas not the open and indefinite halt,
That goes with him whose journeys are for sale;
'Twas not the cloddish foot-fall of the serf:
It was the progress of a leader born.
Yet there was that upon his thoughtful brow,
That seemed to speak of some unearthly force
That led and drove him on; and oft he gazed
To where the Temple hailed the distant sun,
And thence to God's blue temple in the sky,
And seemed to trumpet from his soul a prayer.
That seemed to speak of some unearthly force
That led and drove him on; and oft he gazed
To where the Temple hailed the distant sun,
And thence to God's blue temple in the sky,
And seemed to trumpet from his soul a prayer.
Now striding through an ornamented gate,
He, turning, passed a mansion's burnished walls.
Within the court a garden flashed its smiles,
Where all the sweetest flowers of Palestine
Were rivalled by their foreign floral guests.
And fairest of them all, a maiden sat,
Whose cheeks were roses when he met her sight.
He, turning, passed a mansion's burnished walls.
Within the court a garden flashed its smiles,
Where all the sweetest flowers of Palestine
Were rivalled by their foreign floral guests.
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Whose cheeks were roses when he met her sight.
With tender heart and wistful melting glance,
Most brilliant she of all the Chosen Land;
And yet beneath the garden of her smiles
A granite purpose held her life in place,
As those whose nerves were students might discern.
Most brilliant she of all the Chosen Land;
And yet beneath the garden of her smiles
A granite purpose held her life in place,
As those whose nerves were students might discern.
“Once more your pulse is beating, like the flow
Of torrents down the mountain-side,” she said,
Her jewelled fingers clambering o'er his wrist.
“Why do you set the heart at liberty,
Until the body trembles like a slave?
Rest, now, for me!” and then her round white arm
Across his shoulder flung a soothing weight;
Like breezes cool her hand caressed his brow.
Of torrents down the mountain-side,” she said,
Her jewelled fingers clambering o'er his wrist.
“Why do you set the heart at liberty,
Until the body trembles like a slave?
Rest, now, for me!” and then her round white arm
Across his shoulder flung a soothing weight;
Like breezes cool her hand caressed his brow.
“I rest?”—he laughed a bitter little moan,
Until his changeful eyes were turned to black.
“Rest?—not until I do my day's work out.
Rest?—not until my task is 'neath my feet.
Until his changeful eyes were turned to black.
“Rest?—not until I do my day's work out.
Rest?—not until my task is 'neath my feet.
“I am a Roman, born of Jewish blood,
A child of God, but serving under gods;
A Jew in soul—a heathen by the law;
So being both, I hold a bounden right
To bring them both together.
A child of God, but serving under gods;
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So being both, I hold a bounden right
To bring them both together.
“I some day
Will stand in Rome, where every thing's a god;
Where War, and Peace, and Love, and Hate, and Toil,
And Wickedness, must each one have its god;
Where e'en the Emperor must be a god.
If this man live, 'twas ordered by a god—
If that man die, he's murdered by a god—
If a slave sneeze, 'tis to amuse a god!
How think you that The Only God is pleased
At all this god-play? I, descendant true
Of him who walked with Him, will some day stand
In Rome's unhallowed marble palaces,
And with the sword of eloquence will smite
Those images from off their sculptured crags?”
Will stand in Rome, where every thing's a god;
Where War, and Peace, and Love, and Hate, and Toil,
And Wickedness, must each one have its god;
Where e'en the Emperor must be a god.
If this man live, 'twas ordered by a god—
If that man die, he's murdered by a god—
If a slave sneeze, 'tis to amuse a god!
How think you that The Only God is pleased
At all this god-play? I, descendant true
Of him who walked with Him, will some day stand
In Rome's unhallowed marble palaces,
And with the sword of eloquence will smite
Those images from off their sculptured crags?”
She from his shoulder took her shapely arm,
And drawing just away, she gazed at him
Half-worshipping the spirit in his face;
And then her love surged back; and pettingly
She laughed an answer thus: “But, valiant one,
Rome never much has cared for orators,
Much less for prophets with the Jewish faith;
What if on them your eloquence shall fall
Like shooting-stars extinguished in the night?”—
And drawing just away, she gazed at him
Half-worshipping the spirit in his face;
And then her love surged back; and pettingly
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Rome never much has cared for orators,
Much less for prophets with the Jewish faith;
What if on them your eloquence shall fall
Like shooting-stars extinguished in the night?”—
He threw his hand where soldiers bear the blade:
“If they'll not hear the silver of my tongue,
They shall be given the steel clank of my sword!
For I will be Lieutenant to our God,
And rally all His world to His campaigns!”
“If they'll not hear the silver of my tongue,
They shall be given the steel clank of my sword!
For I will be Lieutenant to our God,
And rally all His world to His campaigns!”
She paled, and looked beseechingly. “Oh no!”
She murmured; “no! our race already tires
With loss of blood—pray God for rest and peace!
But woful 'tis, when Zion stabs herself!
What Jews were those that Jews have doomed to-day?”
She murmured; “no! our race already tires
With loss of blood—pray God for rest and peace!
But woful 'tis, when Zion stabs herself!
What Jews were those that Jews have doomed to-day?”
“Fanatics, lunatics, and rogues,” said he:
“Their leader for his smartness suffered death
Not many suns ago. One might have thought
The farce would close, the foremost harlequin
Being given the leading part in tragedy;
But thistles clench their roots into the ground;—
If crushed, their every fragment is a germ.
His followers now appear on every side,
And claim he was a king, this ragged knave!
And yesterday one gazed up towards the sky
Like some sand-boor to see what hour it is,
And claimed he saw his hang-dog leader there
Standing with God! blasphemer—idiot—knave—
He'll soon be sent where he can view more near
The mysteries of the future!”
“Their leader for his smartness suffered death
Not many suns ago. One might have thought
The farce would close, the foremost harlequin
Being given the leading part in tragedy;
But thistles clench their roots into the ground;—
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His followers now appear on every side,
And claim he was a king, this ragged knave!
And yesterday one gazed up towards the sky
Like some sand-boor to see what hour it is,
And claimed he saw his hang-dog leader there
Standing with God! blasphemer—idiot—knave—
He'll soon be sent where he can view more near
The mysteries of the future!”
Now there crept
Within the sight a woman whose gray hair
Was trembling round a grief-disfigured face;
Her hands were seared with days and nights of toil,
Her eyes were wells of sorrow. And she kneeled,
This agéd woman, to this youthful man.
A bloodless face seemed even to beg for tears,
As with her faded lips she moaned:
Within the sight a woman whose gray hair
Was trembling round a grief-disfigured face;
Her hands were seared with days and nights of toil,
Her eyes were wells of sorrow. And she kneeled,
This agéd woman, to this youthful man.
A bloodless face seemed even to beg for tears,
As with her faded lips she moaned:
“Strong man,
Lend somewhat of your strength unto the weak,
And God will pay you interest o'er and o'er!
My living son is borne unto his grave!
Through yonder Eastern gate they drag him now,
Their countryman—to murder him with stones,
To stain his dear form and his pure good face
With his own blood; O good sir, you are strong—
Whate'er you cry, the headlong crowd will hear;
Come, come and save a life—and such a life!”
Lend somewhat of your strength unto the weak,
And God will pay you interest o'er and o'er!
My living son is borne unto his grave!
Through yonder Eastern gate they drag him now,
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To stain his dear form and his pure good face
With his own blood; O good sir, you are strong—
Whate'er you cry, the headlong crowd will hear;
Come, come and save a life—and such a life!”
“What was his crime?” the maiden softly said.
“His crime, sweet lady? being good and true,
And fair, and just; to help the starving poor;
To take me, poor old woman, in his arms,
(While youthful beauties leered and tossed their heads,)
Because I was his mother! to have kept
The kisses that I gave him when a child—
To pay each pain or pound I bore for him,
Back, with a million for sweet usury;
To clothe his father's name with honors new”—
“His crime, sweet lady? being good and true,
And fair, and just; to help the starving poor;
To take me, poor old woman, in his arms,
(While youthful beauties leered and tossed their heads,)
Because I was his mother! to have kept
The kisses that I gave him when a child—
To pay each pain or pound I bore for him,
Back, with a million for sweet usury;
To clothe his father's name with honors new”—
“And then blaspheme against his father's God.
And mate him with a scoundrel!” thus broke in
The stronger voice.
And mate him with a scoundrel!” thus broke in
The stronger voice.
Whereat the faded eye
Grew deep again—the bended form upraised,
And from the withered lips there came a hiss.
“'Tis slander!” loud she cried: “He but obeyed
His Master's orders, when in Heaven he saw
The Father reunited with His Son.
He, with the flaming colors of his speech,
Painted the picture for the multitudes—
For multitudes of every age to come!”
Grew deep again—the bended form upraised,
And from the withered lips there came a hiss.
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His Master's orders, when in Heaven he saw
The Father reunited with His Son.
He, with the flaming colors of his speech,
Painted the picture for the multitudes—
For multitudes of every age to come!”
“And did his best to crush the solemn laws
That have been throned upon these sacred hills
For centuries!” Thus said the zealous man,
In tones of hate.
That have been throned upon these sacred hills
For centuries!” Thus said the zealous man,
In tones of hate.
“A few scant centuries!”
The wrinkled face took shadows of contempt.
“A million ages had that only Son
Reigned with His Father, and will millions more!”
The wrinkled face took shadows of contempt.
“A million ages had that only Son
Reigned with His Father, and will millions more!”
“Hiss in the street, she-viper!” cried the man.
“Creep through the Eastern gate, and see your young
Bruised with stone curses of the sacred hills!
Blasphemer, go!”
“Creep through the Eastern gate, and see your young
Bruised with stone curses of the sacred hills!
Blasphemer, go!”
“Nay, hold,” the maiden said;
“This is no serpent—she is womanly,
And she is old. And she is in a home
Where age must have its rights, though in the wrong.
Rest, grieving mother; you are worn and tired.”
“This is no serpent—she is womanly,
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Where age must have its rights, though in the wrong.
Rest, grieving mother; you are worn and tired.”
Once more the old heart caught at human hope.
She clasped the pitying maiden round her knees,
And sinking humbly in the garden's dust—
A withered, trampled weed—“My child,” she cried,
“He loves you; beg him, bid him now be kind,
And help my boy!”
She clasped the pitying maiden round her knees,
And sinking humbly in the garden's dust—
A withered, trampled weed—“My child,” she cried,
“He loves you; beg him, bid him now be kind,
And help my boy!”
The sturdy lover laughed,
And striding toward the noisy street, he cried,
“I go to help him to the heaviest stone!”
And striding toward the noisy street, he cried,
“I go to help him to the heaviest stone!”
“Then with you, granite-hearted man,” she cried,
“Take an old woman's curse! So stay you there
While 'tis delivered!” And he stood as those
One sees to-day, within magnetic chains;
But round his neck the maiden bent her arms,
As for a shield; and then the crone sublime
Hurled words at him he ne'er was to forget:
“Take an old woman's curse! So stay you there
While 'tis delivered!” And he stood as those
One sees to-day, within magnetic chains;
But round his neck the maiden bent her arms,
As for a shield; and then the crone sublime
Hurled words at him he ne'er was to forget:
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[THE CRONE'S CURSE]
“You have ambition; soon you hope to stand
A tower among the rulers of the land?
A cherished comrade with the rich and great—
A growing crescent in the skies of state?
The dregs of squalor through your life shall flow,
Your fortunes match the lowest of the low.
A tower among the rulers of the land?
A cherished comrade with the rich and great—
A growing crescent in the skies of state?
The dregs of squalor through your life shall flow,
Your fortunes match the lowest of the low.
“This maiden with the sweet and thrilling form,
This girl, with angels whispering through her face,
You hope to press in passion's wildering storm,
And feel from her a loving wife's embrace?
No need to tell you if her love endures;
For true or false, she never shall be yours.
This girl, with angels whispering through her face,
You hope to press in passion's wildering storm,
And feel from her a loving wife's embrace?
No need to tell you if her love endures;
For true or false, she never shall be yours.
“Away from her you foreign skies shall view
Amid the change your restless nature craves.
The storm will crush the ship that shelters you,
And drag you weak and trembling through the waves;
Your port will be a wreck-infested strand,
And clinging vipers greet you when you land.
Amid the change your restless nature craves.
The storm will crush the ship that shelters you,
And drag you weak and trembling through the waves;
Your port will be a wreck-infested strand,
And clinging vipers greet you when you land.
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“And you some time will proudly stand in Rome?
And you will speak to her a mighty word?
That shining place shall some day be your home,
And feel your voice in hut and palace heard;
But you shall live in poverty and chains,
And die a headless convict for your pains.”
And you will speak to her a mighty word?
That shining place shall some day be your home,
And feel your voice in hut and palace heard;
But you shall live in poverty and chains,
And die a headless convict for your pains.”
Now while this curse on wings of prophecy
Was hissing through the air, the weeping maid
Unwound her arms from off the lover's neck,
And grovelled at the agéd woman's feet,
Beseeching her to change the awful doom.
The man grew white, till he resembled most
Some corpse that died with sneers upon its lips;
But still he clenched his teeth, and cried, “I go
That this blasphemer have not burial given;
He shall be spread to grace the raven's feast—
The dining-table of the carrion crow!”
Was hissing through the air, the weeping maid
Unwound her arms from off the lover's neck,
And grovelled at the agéd woman's feet,
Beseeching her to change the awful doom.
The man grew white, till he resembled most
Some corpse that died with sneers upon its lips;
But still he clenched his teeth, and cried, “I go
That this blasphemer have not burial given;
He shall be spread to grace the raven's feast—
The dining-table of the carrion crow!”
Once more the agéd woman's eyes were fired
With borrowed light; “but hold again!” she cried:
“I have a blessing for you!”
With borrowed light; “but hold again!” she cried:
“I have a blessing for you!”
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And he paused,
And waited, in defiance of himself,
Less prone to take her blessing than her curse.
And waited, in defiance of himself,
Less prone to take her blessing than her curse.
[THE CRONE'S BLESSING]
“A million men and many millions more,
And millions that have never yet been born,
Will fly the fallen banner, o'er and o'er,
That now is dragged in foaming gulfs of scorn;
The power of God upon their lives will fall,
And you shall be the favored of them all.
And millions that have never yet been born,
Will fly the fallen banner, o'er and o'er,
That now is dragged in foaming gulfs of scorn;
The power of God upon their lives will fall,
And you shall be the favored of them all.
“A soothing angel, ready everywhere,
Shall go with you and be your fellow-guest,
To cure the sick with tender magic care,
Whene'er your gifted soul may make request;
Beneath your touch the most ungainly things
Shall turn to birds with healing in their wings.
Shall go with you and be your fellow-guest,
To cure the sick with tender magic care,
Whene'er your gifted soul may make request;
Beneath your touch the most ungainly things
Shall turn to birds with healing in their wings.
“A thousand nations out of darkness led,
Will note the hour when first your name they knew;
With wreaths of blessings be adorned your head,
And lofty, glittering temples named for you;
Wherever Sin can weep and Hope rejoice,
The wakened heart will hear your helpful voice.
Will note the hour when first your name they knew;
With wreaths of blessings be adorned your head,
And lofty, glittering temples named for you;
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The wakened heart will hear your helpful voice.
“And you will prove, all mortal men above,
The maxim and its oft-disputed worth,
That those immortal sisters, Law and Love,
Can live and rule together on the earth;
In Christian tents that you have builded well,
Justice and Mercy can together dwell.
The maxim and its oft-disputed worth,
That those immortal sisters, Law and Love,
Can live and rule together on the earth;
In Christian tents that you have builded well,
Justice and Mercy can together dwell.
“To you Heaven's door shall swiftly open be
As to my blessed though murdered son today;
Your eyes the martyred Master then shall see,
Surrounded by the everlasting ray;
And some time you my angel son shall view,
And pray to God and him to pardon you.”
As to my blessed though murdered son today;
Your eyes the martyred Master then shall see,
Surrounded by the everlasting ray;
And some time you my angel son shall view,
And pray to God and him to pardon you.”
And then her struggling flame of prophecy
Went back to Heaven; she slowly drooped and fell,
A clod of senseless clay upon the earth.
The maiden bent o'er the pathetic wreck,
As if to whisper, “You were once a maid.”
And soon must be a maid in spirit-land;
Pity and reverence both are due to you.”
Went back to Heaven; she slowly drooped and fell,
A clod of senseless clay upon the earth.
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As if to whisper, “You were once a maid.”
And soon must be a maid in spirit-land;
Pity and reverence both are due to you.”
But with a gesture in itself a curse,
The man, as one of fetters late released,
Stalked wildly from the mansion to the road,
And shouted, “Stone the ranting knave to death!”
The man, as one of fetters late released,
Stalked wildly from the mansion to the road,
And shouted, “Stone the ranting knave to death!”
| Rhymes of our planet | |