University of Virginia Library

JUDAS ISCARIOT.

I had a dream of marble palaces
Bathed in blue skies, and broken images
Of emperors and gods, discrowned, dethroned,
And the great rule of iron and blood atoned
By blood and iron at last and laid in dust,
With all its pomp of consecrated lust
And loves dissolved and liberties denied
By venerable vices deified.
And then I met Him, met the Master, strong
In meekness that was might, amid a throng
Of Galilæans clamouring to be led
Against the Spoiler who with spacious tread
Bestrode the earth at His unbounded will
And drained it dry, and asked another still
To torture in those convolutions vast,
And leave when sucked an empty shell at last.
Yes, grim and gaunt as famished hounds were they
That smelled the blood and hungered for the prey,
Snapping and snarling at His heels, and all
(Who yet came greedy to be fed at call)
At strife among themselves, in impotence
Of blind ambition for pre-eminence;
Good stuff for soldiers, panting to be led
With large and loyal hearts, but with no head
For calculation's calm and symphonies
Of stately plots and measured strategies;
Like bloodhounds straining in the leash, with tense
And trembling muscles and one murderous sense
Of the red tainted track they nosed and knew,
And wild to wallow in the deathly dew
With garments rolled in battle and in gore,
While fierce their eyes stared steadfast on before.
But I had brains, I nursed a patient heart
And felt within me power to hold a part
Not all unequal to the coming clash
Of awful arms, when warring worlds would crash
And better peace with fairer land and sky
Would slow emerge from earth's great agony.
He talked of kingdoms, too, and said a sword
Would be His sceptre and He looked our Lord,
From that pure brow which dominated each
To the firm footstep with its royal reach
That went straight forward to its certain end,
Nor swerved one jot nor would one tittle bend
From the appointed purpose. He was King,
His voice had just the right imperial ring
With all its woman's tenderness, and spoke
As with authority and in us woke
Strange feelings, higher thoughts, a grander state,
And swept us onward like the march of fate.
But He delayed, and dallied with the fire
His words had lit and fanned to vast desire,
Commensurate with Israel's regal scope
And broad humanities of blessed hope.
Affairs were ripe, the actors ready, time
Had struck the hour with stern impatient chime
For venture and for victory, and yet
He lingered when the feast seemed almost set
And in the hand the prize, the precious meed,
For the great heart that grasped the present need
And beat in tune. The Roman wolf lay drowsed
With wine and wassail, and at ease caroused
Although in harness, careless of the wave
That hung and gathered and might be his grave.
The legionaries, swollen with pride and lust,
Contemptuous, marked no murmur of the gust
Precursor of the storm, and threw in play
The dice that nigh had thrown a world away.
No fear from them, the mercenary spear
That sold its favours only when paid dear
And (were we masters, as we might have been)
Had fought for us. The peril waxed unseen,
A grisly menace; step by step it drew
Nearer, and to a bodied blackness grew
In sullen workshops, on the silent mount
And desert shore, and at the shining fount
Where maidens met and babbled; and from marts
Went up the troubled sigh of bruiséd hearts,
Amid the wrangling of the rogues and fools.
Yes, out of Rabbis' dim and dusty schools,
Arose a solemn rustling to the skies
Of yellow parchments and phylacteries,
Borne on the breath of prayer and pious hate
That knocked for ever at Jehovah's gate.
And even the royal harlot's perfumed bed,
Where drugged with wanton dreams the golden head
Lay lapt in pride, found in that purple blot
Room for a hope that was one splendid spot
And made sin well nigh beautiful. The feet
Of laughing children down the sultry street,
Mimicked in sport, that did most brightly feign,
The expected hour when Israel yet should reign.
And to and fro, with lustrous oval cheek,
Intent on trade and talk the curious Greek
With news a glittering shadow came and went,
And higgled for a mite, and bowed and bent
In supple grace. From stormy cape and crag,
And parthian wastes, flashed out the danger flag
For those who knew the tempest signs; the air
Was thick with portents, up the starry stair
Climbed new strange beacons, and the deepening gloom
Heavy with thunder travailed as for doom.
Lo, through the east an ominous whisper sped
From land to land, the midnight skies were red
With wrath and ruin, and a bloody blade
Aloft was brandished in the shivering shade
Above infatuate Rome; a rumour crept
Through silken chambers, where the tyrant slept
On rose-strewn couches, boding change and strife
And fair beginnings of a larger life.
But He was silent, He delayed, though still
His words were firebrands, which He flung at will
Among us, many a bright and burning phrase,
To kindle hearts and set the world ablaze;
Division ever was His thrilling theme,
In house and home, and in the mightier scheme
Of courts and councils, sire against the son,
And friends against their friends that were as one,
With treachery and treason every breath
And parents hounding children to the death
Or children parents. While the stars for Him
Contended up in Heaven, though earth waxed dim,
And kings went down, and dynasties were cast
As autumn leaves and stubble on the blast,
And out of chaos and the cosmic pall
His own new kingdom mounting over all.
And we, He said in words like thunder tones,
Should rule with Him and sit on equal thrones
And judge the nations with our sceptred hands
Beneath the bluer skies, in greener lands,
Baptised with blood that marked the era's close,
While wildernesses blossomed as the rose.
And I believed Him, I believe Him yet,
Though now in darkness that dear Sun has set
To soar again with broader brighter rays,
And usher in the true heroic days.
I thought to serve Him by one desperate deed,
And make our holy faith the conquering creed
Again, and bring again for David's shrine
The human grandeur and the grace divine,
With more than David's empire and a home
For Israel vaster than the dreams of Rome.
And so I played the traitor, I who meant
Only to force His hand, and on Him leant
And on His promise as on some tall tower,
With no misgiving of His will or power;
I would compel Him thus to make us free,
And flash the sign to hungry Galilee,
Expectant, hot with the Messiah's name,
Like tinder quick to burst into a flame
When fell the fatal spark, a word, a look,
A gesture or a passage from the Book
That metes our marching orders. I was sure
Of His fixed purpose, and in Him secure.
I never doubted He would then draw back
Or turn a hair's breadth from the appointed track
And predetermined goal, while putting by
The investiture of all Eternity;
I never dreamed when God Himself sent down
His benediction and a heavenly crown
In Jordan's flood and on the holy hill
Of transformation, He would yet stand still
And strike no worthy blow and give no sign
When prophecies were ripe and hours benign.
I never guessed His was no earthly reign,
And all he said was darkly used to feign
Another kingdom and another power
Within us, when the heart itself would flower,
Responding to the Spirit and hold sway
In parable with Him some distant day.
I thought the lightning now would be His sword,
And angels flock in legions round their Lord
From miracle to miracle, and none
But He (as old deliverers had done)
Would lead us forth to conquest and its palms,
With rolling thunder of re-echoed psalms,
And call down bolts from the blue firmament
As awful seals of our enfranchisement.
They thought me thief when I with patriot thrill
Preferred my country and God's righteous will
Revealed by prophets to the passing need
Of poverty's just tolls, in higher heed,
For holy wars and treasuries and aims
Of statesmanship and kingdoms' broader claims,
To build foundations for divinest dues
And be the seed of royal revenues.
Myself I never served, I scorned defence
Of lofty acts and larger providence
Beyond the flight of petty minds that drudged
Their dreary mill-round, and from ruts misjudged
In their dull progress that could only creep,
My glorious visions and the imperial sweep
Which bade me store my little, though in stealth,
For our renewed and ransomed commonwealth.
No pulse of gain, no dream of traitorous greed
Moved me one moment to the daring deed
So gravely planned, and all without offence;
I thought the armies of Omnipotence,
The hierarchies of the heavens and Space
Would at his bidding in their bright embrace
With Cherubim and Seraphim in hosts,
Fall on the city and and its vantage posts,
And seize the Temple and the towers and cast
The tyrant out with one consuming blast.
And then He yielded tamely, though His look
So calm and kingly and unearthly shook
His captors, cowed and grovelling to the dust
In abject terror, like a whirlwind's gust;
While valiant Peter drew his sword to slay
And struck one blow in the old sturdy way
For vengeance and for Israel's sake, and then
A desperate front and more determined men
Had roused the people to His rescue, fired
With hate of years and by His love inspired.
But, lo, He meekly stayed the storm, and sheathed
The crimson blade of promise, as He breathed
Words like a blessing that were bitter woes
Upon the coward renegades and foes.
So they forsook Him, all—even Peter fled
And followed far, as if no blood were shed,
But then denied Him thrice. I flew on wings
Of hope and fear, with awful questionings,
To spread the news and gather friends and speed
The Galileans to their Captain's need.
But sudden panic held those fiery hearts,
Though still I urged all stratagems and arts
And past forgiveness lied to make them move;
They asked for angels, portents, signs to prove
It was God's mission, and the destined time
For action when the least delay was crime.
And rose the barrier never to be crost,
The precious hours passed by, and all was lost;
While that false rabble, not content to fly
And mock Messiah, now cried “Crucify!”
I took the silver, which I won in craft
To fill our coffers and to wing our shaft,
And threw it down though in the Holy Place
Before the priests, and cursed them to their face.
And may Jehovah keep that curse for me,
Till Christ returns and Israel yet is free;
And may it rest on that poor dastard land
Which for its Saviour would not lift a hand,
And rot their life and poison all they do
With blight, and as a cancer eat it through.
I saw Him die, whose service was one death
For us; I marked the torture of each breath
So bravely borne, and heard those human lips
Sob forth their love in the last dread eclipse
And care for others, and that bitter cry
Wrung from a broken heart in agony.
But, in the ghostly shadow ere it fled,
I, drawn still nearer by the light He shed
From the red Cross which was His royal throne—
A light that seemed to fall on me alone,
In my black horror—caught His tender look,
And read my pardon there as in the Book.
He knew I stole and plotted but for Him,
And every pulse beat true in every limb—
For the great cause—He knew, who came to save
As all hearts' King, and like a King forgave.
But now I cannot live apart from Christ,
And thus I go to keep a wedding-tryst
(To show Him I am faithful to the end)
With beautiful dear death, my only friend,
If in His Paradise we yet may meet,
Though I be dust beneath His blessèd feet.