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66

THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH.

I. THE DEPARTURE.

Come, gather robes of every hue,
The spikenard and the spice,
The orient sapphire's kingly ray,
The pearl of costliest price;
Rich armlets wrought with rarest skill,
With gems encrusted o'er,
And golden cups, thrice tried in fire,
From Ophir's palm-girt shore.
Lead forth the camel, let him sail,
Fit ship for sea of sand;
The war-horse, let his prancing hoof
Re-echo through the land;
Let Sheba's sons around their Queen
Shout songs of noblest praise,
And bear to distant shores our fame,
The pride of ancient days.
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My princes!... lo, they come! each one
In form and state a king,
From Dedan's valleys, myrrh and gold
And frankincense they bring;
Their swarth brows wear the diadem,
Their mantles sweep the ground,
The girdle, wrought with goodliest work,
In broidered folds goes round.
My seers, the masters of the wise,
They follow in my train;
They walk in Wisdom's star-paved way,
A starry crown to gain;
Their white hair falls o'er lofty brow,
They speak with words of power,
And o'er them sweeps, in vigil late,
The wild, prophetic hour.
Come all, we journey through the world,
We leave our state and throne,
We cross rough seas and mountains hoar,
And seek a land unknown;
We go, the heirs of heroes old,
To guard their glorious name,
To prove, in sight of man and God,
Their yet unequalled fame.
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For lo! these strangers vex our souls,
The men of Hiram's ships;
But we will show their vauntings vain,
False words from lying lips.
We need not fear, though high the praise
They pour on Zion's hill,
Though the great name of David's son
Their thoughts and stories fill.
Our sires were men of old renown,
They conquered far and wide,
They reared on high their stately towers,
Their palaces of pride;
But now we hear of one whose ships
Sail on to east and west,
Where springs the sun in orient dawn,
Where sinks he to his rest.
Our seers have gathered golden dust
From out the sands of time,
With noble thoughts and music clear
They sang their glorious chime;
But now men speak of one whose soul
Is boundless as the sea,
Whose knowledge flows in one broad stream,
Rejoicing, full, and free.
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The Father of the sons of men,
The God of Heaven most High,
We worshipped Him where mountain-peaks
Soar upward to the sky;
But lo! they tell of one whose skill
All realms of art explores,
Whose Temple opens for his God
Its everlasting doors.
On, then, our heart is sick and faint,
We weary with delay;
We will not halt until we see
That monarch's proud array;
Then gazing, hearing, knowing all,
Our soul at last will rest,
Or conquering in the noble strife,
Or vanquished, self-confessed.
And then, if true this fame they bring
Of wisdom wide and deep,
My secret thoughts in daylight clear,
My visions when I sleep,
The vexing doubts that come and go,
The cravings after light,
Will I, undaunted, though o'ercome,
Lay bare before His sight.
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'Twere worth all wanderings far and wide
A king like this to know,
To let his speech, like choicest seed,
Take root, and bud, and grow;
To sit and listen, day by day,
To words of grace and truth,
To see his wisdom bright and clear
In everlasting youth.
Then on, o'er desert, hill, and vale,
Green pastures, stoniest plain,
With chariots, horses, camels, on,
A queen's majestic train;
We stay not till our feet shall stand
Within that golden shrine,
Until our eyes have seen the king
In all his beauty shine.

II. THE RETURN.

My father, yes, it was not false,
That rumour from afar;
Above all mists and clouds it shines,
That monarch's full-orbed star;
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I saw his state with wondering eyes,
I heard his words of grace,
I watched, half dumb with rapturous awe,
The brightness of his face;
The lofty brow, not swarth and dark,
As Sheba's sons are seen,
But bright as comes the clear-eyed morn
From out its cloudy screen;
The eyes, now fierce with kingly wrath,
Now soft as evening's glow,
The golden hair, whose clustering locks,
Like waves of sunlight, flow.
As when a standard-bearer lifts
His blazoned flag on high,
And chief among ten thousand stands,
Beneath the orient sky,
So stood he, glorious as the sun,
Arrayed in robes of gold;
And I, with wonder faint, confessed
Not half the glory told.
Thou would'st not go, my father; thou
Did'st plead thy weight of years,
Death's shadow flung across thy path,
Life's chances, age's fears;
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But I will tell thee all I heard
Of that high wisdom's lore,
Till thou, from whom my soul learnt much,
Shalt own I teach thee more.
Our ships went forth from Sheba's ports,
They sailed up Edom's sea,
We passed the shores where Joktan's sons
Roam wild, and fierce, and free;
Where Elath's harbour opens wide,
And then, in stately march,
Where Bozrah's rocks are crowned with towers,
And spanned by loftiest arch.
We looked upon the accursèd sea,
We breathed its sulphurous breath,
Where bleaching bones, and scurf of salt,
Speak evermore of death;
We crossed, where stately Jordan flows
By many a grove of palm,
Where fragrant winds from Gilead bring
Their gentle airs of balm.
Then up the vale whose rocks o'erhang
The path of winter stream,
Until at last on wistful eyes
The towers of Zion gleam;
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Where olives gray and hoar grow thick,
We saw the vision bright;
The golden city, Home of Peace,
Burst full upon our sight.
We saw the thousand bright-eyed youths
In purple stiff with gold;
We saw the hosts of Israel march,
Ten thousand warriors bold;
The chariot such as Pharaoh owns,
The banners waving wide,
The throne where six proud lions stand
As guards on either side.
But most where slopes the wide ascent
To where Jehovah dwells,
Where still from choir of white-robed priests
The Hallelujah swells;
Where, clad in purple robes from Tyre,
He enters from the East,
The king, who walks in glorious state,
Half-monarch, and half-priest.
We met; his eye glowed bright and free,
I heard his speech distil,
Like wild bee's store of crystal gold,
And heart and spirit fill;
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He did not scorn my woman's thoughts,
My passion's eager quest;
His noblest words, his treasured lore,
My spirit's cravings blest.
I asked, “O king, the nations bow
To Gods on many a throne,
And many a name with song and dance
As King and Lord they own;
But which of all shall we adore
As giving life and light,
What name may best His favour win,
The Lord of boundless might?”
He answered, “Lo! the Lord is One,
Above the heaven He dwells,
And day to night His power declares,
And night to morning tells;
Give Him thy heart: in truth and love
Do thou His righteous will,
And He, thy Father, Lord of all,
Shall all thy wish fulfil!”
I asked, “O king, the skies are drear,
We wage a fruitless strife;
The heart is faint, the hands hang down,
We weary of our life;
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We toil in vain for wealth and fame,
We gather and we waste;
Yet fail to find the bread of life,
The food the angels taste.”
And he, “Who walks in light and truth,
Shall find the fount of joy,
The peace which nought on earth can give,
No power of man destroy;
The child-like heart, the fear of God,
Is truest wisdom found;
And joy and goodness circle still
In one unbroken round.”
I asked, “O king! the ways of God,
They baffle and perplex;
The evil prosper, nothing comes
Their full-fed souls to vex;
The righteous perish, crushed and scorned;
Their life in darkness ends;
Is this the order and the truth
Unerring counsel sends?”
He answered, “Lo, thou see'st as yet
The outskirts of His rule;
He trains the child, He forms the man
In suffering's varied school;
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Dire forms of evil hover still
Around the proud's success,
And thoughts of trust, and hope, and peace
The righteous mourner bless.”
I asked, “Yet once again, O king,
This life, can it be all?
We toil and strive our little day,
And then the shadows fall;
Have we no goal to reach at last?
Has this wild sea no shore?
Has God no home where wearied souls
May rest for evermore?”
And he, “The things behind the veil
No mortal yet hath known;
On that far land the shadows rest
That shroud the Eternal Throne;
Yet this we know, in life or death,
His presence still is there;
And where that brightness fills the soul,
Is joy beyond compare.”
So communed I, and every word
Went straight to heart and soul,
Dim thoughts made clear, and random will
Now striving for the goal;
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I drank deep draughts of that clear fount,
The well of life and truth,
As one new-born I went my way
In gladness, as of youth.
And now the past is past; again
On Sheba's coasts I dwell,
And never more my feet shall tread
Where Jordan's flood-streams swell;
Yet still the days that then I knew
Are worth long years to me,
And in the visions of the night
That princely form I see.
That voice makes music in mine ear,
And echoes in mine heart,
And thoughts steal in, with subtle power,
And wonder-working art;
Of all that God has given of great,
Or true, or pure, or fair,
The son of David stands supreme,
And reigns unrivalled there.
God's image I have seen, unmarred
By taint of evil will,
And in my heart's most sacred shrine
That image lingers still;
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It helps me, as I kneel and pray,
To worthier thoughts of Him
Whom until now I have but known
In vision dark and dim.
So glorious is the earthly type,
God's beauty seen in man;
And shall not God at last complete
What thus His might began?
How bright and wondrous when we know
His power and love and grace,
And, leaving mists and clouds below,
Look on Him face to face!

III. TEN YEARS LATER.

And can it be? Strange news they bring,
These men from Edom's shore;
A greater marvel meets us now
Than that we heard before;
The king who rose to glory's height,
Whom but to see was bliss,
He falls, as none have fallen yet,
In evil's dark abyss.
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The son of David, God's beloved,
Who spake in loftiest tone,
Of Him, whom, girt with seraphim,
The highest heavens enthrone,—
His incense-smoke in Baal's shrine
Floats, wreath-like, to the skies;
He joins the wild and frenzied band
Whose hymns to Baal rise.
He stands by Moloch's blazing pyre,
He hears the wailing cry;
He sees the mother's blank despair,
With cold and tearless eye;
Where damsels gather, flushed with wine,
He mingles, nothing loth,
And threads the whirling, dizzying dance
In groves of Ashtaroth.
The eye has lost its wonted fire,
The lips no longer smile;
All spells of art and song are vain
His deadness to beguile;
For sated pride will leave its blank,
And sated lust its sting,
And still the inexorable hours
Their torturing penance bring.
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The soul that looked through height and depth,
And heavenly music heard,
And read, in sun, and moon, and stars,
The Eternal Wisdom's word,
Now, plunged in magic's caverns dark,
Seeks hidden spells and charms,
To bind the demons at his will,
To shield his house from harms.
No more at earliest break of day
He sits within the gate,
To hear from widows, orphans, poor,
Their plaints against the great;
The gardens fair with many a rose,
The streamlets murmuring low,
These blind the eye, and stop the ear,
To sights and sounds of woe.
The fine gold waxes dim; so fades
The vision from mine eyes;
The idol, fallen from its shrine,
Despised and broken lies;
No more I see the form of God
Imprinted on the seal;
Those baleful eyes, those scoffing lips,
God's foe, and man's, reveal.
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Far nobler thou, in all thine age,
Bent low with weight of years,
Dim-eyed and feeble, not without
Sharp pain, and haunting fears;
Thou still hast kept thy loyal soul,
In steadfastness and truth,
And in thy heart of hearts there dwells
The freshness of thy youth.
Far nobler he, of whom they tell,
The man of Uz, who lay,
From head to foot one leprous sore,
In anguish night and day;
His spirit spake its cravings out,
It yearned for Truth and Right;
And so his wandering steps were led
Through darkness into light.
The path to wisdom lies not there,
By palace-gates and towers;
The lowly hut, the wanderer's tent,
The green field bright with flowers—
These teach their lessons day by day,
They bid us still be calm,
And, through the weariness of life,
Rings Nature's wondrous psalm.
82

I turn from all the varied state,
Rich hues, devices rare,
The purple robes, the golden shields,
The terraced garden fair;
One pencilled flower excels them all,
The lily shames the king;
God clothes the hills in nobler gold,
More radiant glows the spring.
Should'st Thou, O God, to man once more
Give wisdom as the sea,
Should human voice in words divine
In Thy name speak of Thee,
It were no child of lordly birth,
No heir of kingly throne;
The homeless, friendless, peasant-born,
Thou claimest as Thine own.
No wreath of flowers encircles brows
To gold and purple born,
Round temples bleeding, faint, and wan
There twines the crown of thorn.
To Him I turn, that sufferer pale,
In vision seen afar,
As turn the sages when they watch
Their life's ascending star.
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In that wide heart I find my home,
That wisdom gives me light;
There, sick and faint with love, I gaze
Adoring, at the sight;
To see great David's son enthroned
Were worth a kingdom's loss,
But He, the Son of Man, shall reign
O'er all men from His cross.
March 1865
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