University of Virginia Library

Dark were the days when first within my soul
The stirrings of a message from the Lord
Woke, half-unfelt. The house of Omri trod
Its evil path, and Ahab's alien queen,
Priestess of Baal, swore to crush our faith.
The prophets of Jehovah died their death,
Or stoned, or sawn asunder, or in caves
By tens and fifties hid themselves for fear;
And Baal's altars smoked on every height,
And Baal's black-robed priests in every town
Took tithes and offerings; and by moonlight pale,
In shadowy groves, to Ashtaroth their queen,
Fair maidens danced adoring. Then the drought
Fell on us, and the famine; and the sky
Glared on us like a molten heaven of brass;
And the earth gaped for weariness and thirst;
And parchèd lips cursed God for pain of heart.

And then the Tishbite came. His long, black hair
Flowed round him like a mantle, and he stood
On Carmel's height, and all day long the priests
Called on their god, and cut themselves with knives,
And poured their blood, and raised their cries in vain.
But when he prayed, as sank the westering sun,
The fire descended, and the wondering crowd
No longer halted, wavering between two,
Baal or Jehovah. Quivering, pale, dismayed,
Faint with the sickness of a hope deferred,
The priests and prophets of the stranger god
Were seized and slaughtered; and the torrent's bed,
Where water long had failed, now filled with blood,
Ran crimson to the sea. And then the cloud
Rose in the west, a speck of blackness, small
As is this hand, yet spreading fast and far,
With sound of many waters, and the rush
Of darkening tempest; and the glad showers fell,
And earth revived, and all the streamlets sang,
With joyful voices, and the mightier floods
Swept on and on exulting.

Yet awhile
Deliverance came not. Still the foul disease
Remained, unhealed; and Ahab's evil ways
Cried to the Heavens for vengeance. Faint and sad,
Weary of life, as one who stands alone,
The last survivor of a fallen faith,
Elijah fled to Horeb. None may know
The mystery of that vision on the mount,
The fire, the earthquake, and the whirlwind; last,
The still small voice. And soon the vengeance fell
On Ahab and his house. We heard afar
The deed of wrong, the tyrant's fond desire,
The vineyard seized, and Naboth foully slain,
The last, great guilt that filled the o'erflowing cup;
And then it came. The chance-drawn bow smote down
The coward king who sought to 'scape disguised,
And dogs licked up his blood in Jezreel.
Of all the prophet's words none fell to earth
Fruitless and vain, and though his course was run,
And soon he left us, in the fiery car
Mounting to brighter skies of Paradise,
Himself an army, stay of all our hopes,
The chariot and the horseman of our strength,
Our father and our guide, the years fulfilled
Each slighted warning. Shame, disgrace, and death
Poured down in quick succession, and our hearts
Rejoiced to think deliverance near at hand.
But most I joy to live those hours again,
When Nimshi's son had wrought his deed of doom,
And Ahab's sons, and queenly Jezebel,
Lay low in dust. All flushed with pride and zeal,
He met us in his chariot. I was there
With you, my sons, and over all the hills
Our tents were scattered, and our myriad sheep
Came to their shearing, and our warriors tried
Made up an army. And the new-made king
Knew how to use us. Israel's king, I say,
In all the pride of conquest, sought to clasp
My hand in friendship, though of alien blood,
And half of alien creed (for Jehu still
Bowed down before the golden calves that stood
In Bethel and in Dan); and now, behold,
We rode together, I, the Kenite chief,
And he, the king. And over all the land
Went forth the summons, “Come, ye priests, that serve
At Baal's altars. Come ye, all who bow
At Baal's shrine. The king will hold a feast,
And offer up a mightier sacrifice
Than Ahab ever dreamt of.” So they came,
From East and West, the false apostate crew,
From North and South, all striving, eager, hot,
To be among the foremost. In they streamed,
In garments dyed with purple, such as come
From Tyrian looms; and soon the Temple-gates
Closed in upon the thronging, weltering crowd;
And then our moment came. I gave the sign,
And ye, your bright swords flashing in the air,
Went in to do your work. Not hand to hand,
In equal fight, not struggling hard for life,
But helpless, powerless, taken in the snare,
Ye found your victims, and with firm, fixed eye,
And hands unflinching till the wearied arm
Refused its office, slew, and slew, and slew
Your startled, trembling foes. The red sun fell
On that red stream that gurgled past the walls,
And over pallid faces threw its gleam
Of ghastly brightness. Ah, my soul leaps up
At that remembrance. Not a whit behind
That sacrifice on Carmel, which I saw,
Was this my hands had wrought. We crushed the snake
Our master bruised. Remember, O my God,
That slaughter of Thy foes. A whisper runs
(I know it) that some dreamer in his cell,
Who counts himself a prophet, has condemned
That deed of vengeance. Let him dream his dreams
Of pitying love, and talk of curses dark
That rest upon that day of Jezreel,
And claim fulfilment. New and strange to me
Such thoughts as these. My soul was early trained
To smite and slay the haters of my God,
To use or tongue, or hand, or sword, or stone,
As each was fittest. Who will blame my deed,
And spare Elijah's? And if aught of wrong
Have mixed itself with either, Thou, O God,
Wilt pardon it as over-eager zeal.
The willing slave who does his lord's behest,
O'erstepping, here or there, the bounds of right,
In very strength of love which hates the foes
His Lord condemns, may claim the guerdon high
Of faithful service. Thou, my King, my God,
Wilt own Thy servant, and my name shall live
As lives the name of Jehu, through the years,
Linked with that day of Jezreel. Ye, my sons,
Shall make that name immortal. Still your flocks
Shall feed on Gilead's hills, and in your tents
Ye and your sons shall dwell, and shall not taste
The purpling draught that maddens all the sense,
And numbs the soul; but still your food shall be
The curdled goat's milk, and the golden store
That drops, all fragrant, from the flinty rock,
And water clear and cool shall quench your thirst;
And so your days shall lengthen in the land,
As mine have lengthened. Now I go my way
I know not whither, but my sleep is sweet,
Sweet as the night to him who all day long
Has chased the hart upon the mountain height;
And I pass on to where my fathers dwell,
Each in his rock-hewn couch; and I shall see
The prophets I have known, and they, I think,
Will give me welcome, and a change will come
O'er sense and spirit making all things clear:
And there, it may be, I shall see once more
The great Elijah, whom the fiery car
Bore from us, and shall greet him, as of old,
“My father, O my father, we thy sons,
Sons of the chariot of our Israel's strength,
Still hold thy name in honour, do thy deeds,
And live thy life.” And then from out the clouds
His voice may answer, even as Jehu's did,
“Give me thine hand.” And I, who rode of yore
In Jehu's chariot, mounting higher yet
To greater glory, side by side may stand
(The angels round me, and the steeds of fire
Through golden clouds advancing to the Throne)
With him, the mightiest seer, till I, too, see
The King in all His beauty, and my voice
Joins in the shout of all the sons of God.