 | A Lost Epic and Other Poems |  |
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ANNO DOMINI XXXVII.
Grey dawn upon the mountain. Grey and cold,
O'er shivering pines and dripping boulders rolled
The great mist upward to the unseen peak.
The wind blew chill. The scant light, grey and bleak,
Showed haggard outlines.
In the stony waste
Knelt by a torrent one who seemed in haste
To cleanse his hands of some deep ghastly stain.
He washed and moaned. Again and yet again
He raised them to the bleak grey light, and scanned
Their horror with wild eyes; then gathered sand
And bent and washed with frenzy.
O'er shivering pines and dripping boulders rolled
The great mist upward to the unseen peak.
The wind blew chill. The scant light, grey and bleak,
Showed haggard outlines.
In the stony waste
Knelt by a torrent one who seemed in haste
To cleanse his hands of some deep ghastly stain.
He washed and moaned. Again and yet again
He raised them to the bleak grey light, and scanned
Their horror with wild eyes; then gathered sand
And bent and washed with frenzy.
Upward drew
The spectral mist. Far out, the day was blue
Above the tumbled forest slopes: but here,
Above the man, the icy atmosphere
Was filled with mist and shadow of mist.
No tree
Throve on these heights. No grass grew. One could see
But vast bald domes, and grim escarpments strewn
With block and shingle—stone, and stone, and stone,
All streaming with the vapours of the peak.
The spectral mist. Far out, the day was blue
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Above the man, the icy atmosphere
Was filled with mist and shadow of mist.
No tree
Throve on these heights. No grass grew. One could see
But vast bald domes, and grim escarpments strewn
With block and shingle—stone, and stone, and stone,
All streaming with the vapours of the peak.
The man beside the torrent with a shriek
Arose: “The waters mock at my despair;
Their jeering voices call me everywhere;
They madden me! The clouds upon the height
Drain all the depths of Heaven day and night,
And day and night I wash, but never more
Will these red hands—” He wrung them with the roar
Of some wild beast that cannot break its cage.
Arose: “The waters mock at my despair;
Their jeering voices call me everywhere;
They madden me! The clouds upon the height
Drain all the depths of Heaven day and night,
And day and night I wash, but never more
Will these red hands—” He wrung them with the roar
Of some wild beast that cannot break its cage.
Far down upon the boundless foliage
O' the valleys burst the sun. A brilliant green
Laughed out from rocky slope and deep ravine.
The low hills glittered. Silvery waters ran
Through clearings in the wilderness.
The man
Beneath his cloud as from a cavern gazed
And shuddered with the cold. The morning blazed—
A vast blithe fire which drew his steps below!
Blue flanks and shining summits capped with snow
Rose where the distant Alps walled in the wide,
Glad scene.
The man went down the mountain-side.
O' the valleys burst the sun. A brilliant green
Laughed out from rocky slope and deep ravine.
The low hills glittered. Silvery waters ran
Through clearings in the wilderness.
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Beneath his cloud as from a cavern gazed
And shuddered with the cold. The morning blazed—
A vast blithe fire which drew his steps below!
Blue flanks and shining summits capped with snow
Rose where the distant Alps walled in the wide,
Glad scene.
The man went down the mountain-side.
He reached the pines; then stopped.
What sudden fear
Caused him to crouch and tremble?
Hand to ear,
He listened, breathless! Rising from afar,
A strange wild sound, flung back from crag and scar,
Came floating through the hills—and sank and died.
Caused him to crouch and tremble?
Hand to ear,
He listened, breathless! Rising from afar,
A strange wild sound, flung back from crag and scar,
Came floating through the hills—and sank and died.
The man glared fiercely down the gorge and cried:
“Tiberius sends his bloodhounds forth at last!”
“Tiberius sends his bloodhounds forth at last!”
He turned to flee, but paused.
Then slowly passed
The look of terror from his hunted eyes.
“An end of all things comes for him who dies,”
He murmured, rising. “Earth can compass not
More hideous exile than this savage spot.
What worse can Cæsar do than take away
My life? What then! Who slays me will but slay
Hunger and thirst and weariness and cold;
And I shall sleep—and never more behold
Those awful eyes—that thorn-crowned head which fills
The nights with terror!”
Echoing through the hills
Once more the trumpets blew a long wild strain.
The man plunged downward through the woods to gain
The winding levels of the rugged pass.
Then slowly passed
The look of terror from his hunted eyes.
“An end of all things comes for him who dies,”
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More hideous exile than this savage spot.
What worse can Cæsar do than take away
My life? What then! Who slays me will but slay
Hunger and thirst and weariness and cold;
And I shall sleep—and never more behold
Those awful eyes—that thorn-crowned head which fills
The nights with terror!”
Echoing through the hills
Once more the trumpets blew a long wild strain.
The man plunged downward through the woods to gain
The winding levels of the rugged pass.
With sunlight flashed from spear-head and cuirass,
Through the green glen the Roman soldiers strode.
Red-plumed beyond the spears their tribune rode.
Through the green glen the Roman soldiers strode.
Red-plumed beyond the spears their tribune rode.
The man stood forth and with uplifted hand
Cried: “Halt!—It is your prisoner bids you stand;
The fugitive Tiberius seeks is here;
Bring forth your chains!”
The Roman chief rode near
And eyed the man.
The man stood gaunt and grim;
Half clad in wolf-skin; naked, breast and limb;
Through tangled hair his eyeballs blazed like flame.
Cried: “Halt!—It is your prisoner bids you stand;
The fugitive Tiberius seeks is here;
Bring forth your chains!”
The Roman chief rode near
And eyed the man.
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Half clad in wolf-skin; naked, breast and limb;
Through tangled hair his eyeballs blazed like flame.
“What man are you?” the tribune asked—“Your name?”
He answered: “Once I ruled Judea. Men
Bowed low and named me Pontius Pilate then.”
Bowed low and named me Pontius Pilate then.”
Wondering the soldiers gazed. The tribune said:
“You strangely err. Tiberius is dead.
We seek you not.”
The legionaries marched on
With iron tramp. Long after they had gone
The man still stared.
“You strangely err. Tiberius is dead.
We seek you not.”
The legionaries marched on
With iron tramp. Long after they had gone
The man still stared.
At set of sun that day
Unhappy Pilate cast his life away.
Unhappy Pilate cast his life away.
| A Lost Epic and Other Poems | |