BOOK IV.

Stephen, following Saul, turns the tide of feeling overwhelmingly in the opposite direction. Saul, however, but he almost alone—for even his sister Rachel has been converted—stands out defiant against the manifest power of God. Shimei appears as an auditor watching with sinister motive the course of the controversy.

The tumult grew a tempest when Saul ceased:No single voice of mortal man might hope,Though clear like clarion and like trumpet loud,To live in that possessed demoniac seaOf vast vociferation whelming all,Or ride the surges of the wild uproar.What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thy mad mindSo suddenly was soothed? Did 'Peace, be still!'Dropping, an unction from the Holy One,Softly as erst on stormy Galilee,Wide overspread the summits of the wavesAnd sway their swelling down to glassy calm?Stephen stood forth to speak, and all was still.Before he spoke, already Rachel feltA different power of silence there, and sense,Within, other than sympathetic awe;This felt she, though she knew it not, nor dreamedIt was the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven!"Brethren"—so Stephen spoke, beyond his wontNow, under awe of grave occasion, calmedFrom God with power—"God's thoughts are not our thoughts,Neither our ways His ways; for as the heavensAre than the earth more high, so than our waysMore high are His, and His thoughts than our thoughts.Our valued wisdom folly is to GodFull oft; then most, when folly seems to usGod's wisdom. Have ye yet to learn that GodRejoices to confound the vain conceitOf man? The Scriptures, then, search ye with eyesBlinded so thick? It is Isaiah's word:'Jehovah, yea, hath poured upon you allThe spirit of deep sleep, and hath your eyes,Those prophets of the soul that might be, closed,Also your heads, meant to be seers, hath veiled;And vision all is now to you becomeEven as the words of a shut book and sealed.Therefore Jehovah saith, For that this peopleDraw nigh to Me in worship with their mouth,But have their heart removed from Me afar,While all their fear of Me is empty formEnjoined of men, and idly learned by rote—Behold, a thing of wonder will I doAmong this people, wonder passing thought,And perish shall the wisdom of their wiseAnd prudence of their prudent come to nought!'"Brethren, that was man's wisdom which just nowYe heard, and were well pleased to hear, from Saul.Hearken again, and hear what God will speak."At the first word that fell from Stephen's lips,An overshadowing of the Holy GhostHung like a heaven above the multitude;With every word that followed, slow and full,That awful cope seemed ever hovering downImpendent nearer, as when, fold to fold,Droops lower and lower a dark and thunderous sky.The speaker used no arts of oratory;Only a still small voice, not wholly his,Nor wholly human, issuing from his lips,Only a voice, but eloquence was shamed.And Stephen thus his theme premised pursues:"Rightly and wrongly, both at once, have yeThis day been taught of God's Messiah; KingHe is, as Saul has said, but in a sense,And with a highth and depth and length and breadthAnd reach immense of meaning, that nor Saul,Nor ye, nor any by the Holy GhostUntaught, have yet conceived. Not of this worldHis kingdom is. The pageant and the pomp,State visible, and splendor to the eye,Are of this world that vanishes away,And of the princes of this world that comeTo naught. His glory whose the kingdom isWhereof I speak, no eye hath seen, no eyeCan see. That vision is for naked soul."The lordship and authority which cravesObeisance of the knee, the lip, the hand,And the neck breaks to an unwelcome yoke,But traitor leaves the hidden heart within,Rebel the will insurgent, infidelThe mind, the critic reason dissident,And violated conscience enemy—Such rule is but the hollow show of rule,A husk of vain pretence, the kernel gone."No earthly kingdom such, Messiah's is,Of nations hating and yet serving Him—Trampled into the dust beneath His feet,And either cringing or else gnashing rage.A kingdom here on earth of heaven to found,From heaven to earth God's true Messiah comes;A kingdom built of meek and lowly heartsBy Monarch meek and lowly to be ruled;A world-wide kingdom and a time-long reign.This kingdom new of heaven on earth commencedWill gather Jew and Gentile both in one,Whereso, of high or low, of rich or poor,Heart ready to receive it shall be found,In time or clime however hence afar.For hear Him speak, the High and Lofty OneWho maketh His abode eternity:'Lo, in the high and holy place dwell I,Likewise with him of meek and contrite mind.'"In those words were foreshown the things which are,Brethren, and kingdom which we preach to you,Messiah here indeed, His reign begun,Invisible but glorious, on the earth.He that hath ears to hear, lo, let him hear,And hail the one right Ruler come at last;Who rules not nations, masses of mankindOnly, with indiscriminate wide swayImperfect though to view magnificent,By many an individual will unfelt;But seeks His subjects singly, soul by soul,And over each, through all within him, reigns.Jew must with Gentile, heart by heart, submitTo own Messiah thus his Lord and King,Throning Him sovereign in the realm of self,The empire of a humble, contrite mind."No other rule is real than rule like this,The true Messiah's rule, which well withinThe flying scouts and outposts of the man,Wins to the midmost seat and citadelOf being, where the soul itself resides,And tames the master captive to its thrall.Then sings the soul unto herself and says,'Bless thou, Jehovah, O my soul, and allThat is within me, bless His holy name!'Filled is the hidden part with melody.For joyfully the reason then consents,The mind is full of light to see, and says'Amen!' the will resolves the oppositeOf its old self, won by the heart, which, moreThan mere obedience, loves; conscience the whileDelightedly infusing all delight,And Holy Spirit breathing benison."Such subjugation is a state of peace;But peace, stagnation not, nor death. You liveAnd move and have your being evermoreFresher and deeper, purer and more full,Drawn in an ether and an elementInstinct and vivid with God. The appetitesAre subject servitors to will, the willHearkens to reason and regards its voice—Reason which is the will of Him who reigns,Your reason and His will insensiblyBlending to grow incorporate in one.Such is the kingdom of the Christ of God.You easily miss it—for it cometh notWith observation; you must look withinTo find it—pray that you may find it so."A mien of something more than majestyIn Stephen as he spoke, transfiguring him;Conscious authority loftier than pride;Deep calm which made intensity seem weak;Slow weight more insupportable than speed;Passion so pure that its effect was peace,Beatifying his face; betokened powerBeneath him that supported him, behindHim that impelled, above him and withinThat steadied him immovable, suppliedAs from a fountain of omnipotence;An air breathed round him of prophetic raptSolemnity oppressive beyond wordsAnd dread communication from the throne,Moved near, of the Most High, which only notThundered and lightened, as from the touched topOf Sinai once in witness of the law—Such might, not Stephen's, wrought with Stephen thereAnd laid his hearers subject at his feet.Saul saw the grasp secure that he had laidUpon his brethren's minds and hearts—to hold,He proudly, confidently deemed, againstWhatever counter force of eloquence—This tenure his he saw relaxed, dissolved,Evanishéd, as it had never been.Perplexed, astonished, but impenetrable,Though dashed and damped in spirit and in hope,Angry he stood, recoiled upon himself.But Rachel had a different history.She felt her inmost conscience searched and known;Sharper than any sword of double edge,The Word of God through Stephen pierced her heart,And there asunder clove her self and self.She heeded Stephen's warning words; she lookedWithin, she pressed her hand upon her heartAnd prayed, "O God, my God, my fathers' God,Thy kingdom—grant thatImay find ithere!"So praying she listened while farther Stephen spoke:"That such a Ruler should be such as HeWhom we proclaim, the Man of Nazareth,The Carpenter, the Man of Calvary,Affronts your reason, tempts to disbelief—Doubtless; but all the more shown absoluteHis sovereignty, transcendent, passing quiteLimit of precedent or parallel,As nothing in Him outwardly appearsTo soothe your pride in yielding to His claim.Always the more offended pride rebels,Is proved his triumph greater who subdues.Deep is our human heart, and versatileExceedingly, ingenious past our ken,Inventive of contrivances to saveFond pride from hurt. But here is no escape;Pride must be hurt and bleed, unsalved her wounds.She may not conquer crouching, she must crouchConquered; nor only so, she must be gladTo be the conquered, not the conqueror;Thus deeply must the heart abjure itself,Thus deeply own the mastership of Christ.Christ will not practise on your self-conceitAnd lure you to obey illusively.Obedience is not obedienceSave as, obeying, you love, loving, obey—The chief of all obediences, love."Such serene counter to his own superbDisdain of Jesus wrought on Saul effectDiverse from that meanwhile in Rachel wrought.She yielded to exchange her standing-ground,And ceased to hold her centre in herself.Centred in God, she all things new beheldTranslated by the mighty parallax.Open she threw the portals of her soulAnd gave the keys up to her new-found King.But Saul more stubbornly than ever clampedHis feet to keep them standing where they stood.Haughty, erect, rebuffing—he alone—He still stared on at Stephen, who Saul's scornFelt subtly like a fierce oppugnant forceResistlessly attractive to his aim,As, suddenly soon borne into a swiftInvoluntary swerving of his speech—Himself, with Saul, surprising—he went on:"Such lord, requiring such obedience,In Him of Nazareth, a man approvedOf God by many mighty works through HimAmong you done, this day I preach to you,My brethren all—my brother Saul, to thee!"Therewith full round on Saul the speaker turned;That self-same instant, the seraphic sheenBrightened to dazzling upon Stephen's face;Saul standing there, transfixed to listen, blenched,As if a lightning-flash had blinded him.Then, prophet-wise, like Nathan come beforeKing David sinner, Stephen, his right handAnd fixed forefinger flickering forth at Saul,An intense moment centred upon him,Sole, the converging ardors of his speech—As who, with lens of cunning convex, drawsInto one focus all the solar raysCollected to engender burning heat.Rachel, who saw Saul blench, and full well knewWhat pangs on pangs his pride could force him bear—He smiling blithely while he inly bled—Watched, with a heart divided in sore painBetween the sister's pity of his caseAnd sympathy against him for his sake,As Stephen thus his speech to Saul addressed:"Yea, to thee, Saul my brother, in thy flushAnd prime of youth and youthful hope, thy joy,Thy pride, of all-accomplished intellect,And sense of self-sufficing righteousness—To thee, thou pupil of Gamaliel, thee,Thou Hebrew of the Hebrews, Pharisee,Against the gust and fury of thy zeal,And in the teeth of thy repellent scorn,Jesus the crucified I preachthylord.Blindly with bitter hate thou ragest nowAgainst Him; but hereafter, and not longHereafter, thou, despite, shalt lie prostrateBefore Him and beneath Him in the dust,Astonished with His glory sudden shownBeyond thy power with open eye to see.Lo, by the Holy Spirit bidden, IThis day plant pricks for thee to kick against.Cruel shall be the torture in thy breast,And unto cruel deeds thou didst not dreamThe torture in thy breast will madden thee—The anguish of a mind at strife with good,A will self-blinded not to cease from sin.Nevertheless at length I see thee mild—Broken thy pride, thy wisdom brought to naught,To thyself hateful thy self righteousness,Worshipping at His feet whom late thou didstPersecute in His members, persecuteIn me. Lo, with an everlasting loveI long for thee, O Saul, and draw thee, loveBorn of that love wherewith the Lord loved meAnd gave Himself for me to bitter death."Rachel her prayer and love and longing joins,With tears, to Stephen's, for her brother, who,Conscious of many eyes upon him fixed,Far other thought, the while, and feeling, broods.As captain, on the foremost imminent edgeOf battle, leading there a storming vanOf soldiers in some perilous attack,Pregnant with fate to empire, if he feelPierce to a vital part within his frameWound of invisible missile from the foe,Will hide his deadly hurt with mask of smile,That he damp not his followers' gallant cheer;Thus, though with motive other, chiefly pride,Saul, rallying sharply from that first surprise,Sternly shut up within his secret breastA poignant pang conceived from Stephen's words,Resentment fated to bear bitter fruit,But melt at last in gracious shame and tears.With fixéd look impassible, he gazedAt Stephen, while, in altered phase, that pureEffulgence of apostleship burned on:"Nor, brethren, let this word of mine becomeScandal before your feet to stumble youHeadlong to ruin—'gave Himself for meTo bitter death'—implying it the Christ'sTo suffer death in sacrifice for sin.This is that thing of wonder prophesied,Confounding to the wisdom of the wise;A suffering Saviour, a Messiah shamed,Monarch arrayed in purple robes of scorn,With diadem of thorns pressed on His brow,And in His hand for sceptre thrust a reed—The Lord of life and glory crucified!"Dim saw perhaps our father Abraham this,Through symbol and through prophecy containedIn smoking furnace and in blazing torchBeheld, that evening, when the sun went downAnd it was dark. The smoking furnace meantThe mystery of the Messiah's shameTo go before His glory typifiedIn the clear shining of the torch ablaze."Of the same mystery of agonyIn sorrow, shame, and death, forerunning darkThe bright and brightening sequel without endOf the Messiah's work, Isaiah spake,When he foresaw His coming day from far.The eagle vision of that seer was dimmedWith tears, like Jeremiah's, to beholdWhat he beheld—Messiah's visage soMarred more than any man's, and so His formMore than befell the sons of men. He read,Within the mirror of his prophecy,Astonishment depicted in the eyesOf many—in the eyes of which of you,My brethren?—at a spectacle so strange.The melancholy prophet saw a gloomOf unbelief darken the world. 'What soul,'Wails he, 'is found to credit our report?To whom has been revealed Jehovah's armIn such a wise outstretched to save?' Heart-sickAt what, too clearly for his peace, he sees,Isaiah, turning from his vision, criesIn pain—consider, brethren, whether yeUnwittingly fulfil what he portrays!—'He was despised, rejected was of men,A man of sorrows and acquainted wellWith grief; as one from whom men hide their face,Despised was He, and we esteemed Him not.'"Now our own gospel hear Isaiah preach,The good news that such sufferings borne by Him,Messiah, were for you, for us, for all:'Surely our griefs they were Messiah bore,He carried sorrows that were due to us.Yet we, alas, of Him as stricken thought,Smitten of God, and for affliction marked!'"Would God, my brethren, ye who hear these things,This day, were minded as the prophet wasWho thus from God reported them to you!He but foresaw them, and he saw them; yeSaw them, and did not see! And yet, even yet,Look back, as forward he; lo, touch your eyesWith eyesalve that ye be not blind, but see!See, with Isaiah, how Messiah was'Wounded for your transgressions, bruised so soreFor your iniquities, how chastisementOn Him was laid that peace should bring to you,How stripes whereby He bled to you were health.'"Meekly and thankfully Isaiah sinksHimself, one drop, into the human sea,And says 'we,' 'our,' and 'us'—do ye the same.O brethren, if this day ye hear His voice,A whisper only in your ear from heaven,I pray you, harden not your heart. ConfessYour fault, and say with your own prophet, 'We,All we, like sheep, have gone astray, astray,And God on Him hath laid the sin of all.'"At such expostulation and appealIneffable, found hidden in the wordsOf prophecy, Rachel her heart felt failInto a pathos of repentance sweetWith love and soft sense of forgiveness, boughtFor her at cost so dear!—and she dissolvedIn sobs and tears of sorrow exquisite,Better than joy, and uncontrollable.The mastership of Jesus now to herMerged in the sweetness of His saviorship;The duty of obedience to a LordAll taken up, transfigured, glorified,In the transcendent privilege of love.Never such grief in joy, such joy in grief,Was hers before—for self was wholly slainAnd her whole life grew love unutterable.Yet longed she, with a hope that half was pain,For Saul, while Stephen brokenly went on:"O ye to whom for the last time I speak,My heart is large for you, it breaks for you,And melts to tears within me while I plead.I pray you, I beseech you, in Christ's stead,Be reconciled to God. Hearken this onceAnd answer, Were it set your task, in choiceFew words to frame the image and the lotOf Jesus whom ye slew, how otherwiseMore fitly could ye do it than was doneAforetime by Isaiah when he wroteProphetically thus of Christ to be:'Oppressed He was, yet He abased HimselfAnd opened not His mouth; even as a lambLed to the slaughter, as a sheep beforeHer shearers speechless, so He opened notHis mouth. His grave they with the wicked made,And with the rich they laid Him in His death.'Say, brethren, was not Jesus very Christ?"But, that ye err not, Messianic woeIs not the end; a glorious change succeeds.Isaiah chanted it in sequel gladAnd contrast of the sorrow-laden strainThat mourned Messiah's sufferings; hear the song:'When thou, Jehovah, shalt His soul have madeAn offering for sin, Messiah thenThe endless issue of His pain shall see;Still on and on He shall His days prolong,And in His hand the pleasure of the LordShall prosper; of the travail of His soulHe shall see fruit and shall be satisfied.'So, with rejoicing too serenely fullFor exultation, sang Isaiah thenOf Messianic glory following shame."And now, concerning Jesus whom ye slew,Know, brethren, that He burst the bands of death,Which could not hold the Lord of life in thrall.Know that He, having risen, rose again,Ascending far above all height, and ledCaptive captivity; attended soWith retinue of deliverance numberless,He entered heaven a Conqueror and a King;Before Him lifted up their heads the gates,The everlasting doors admitted Him.There sits He now associate by the sideOf His Almighty Father, Lord of all.For to Him every knee shall bow, in heaven,On earth, and every tongue confess that He,Jesus, is Lord; Jehovah wills it so."Fall, brethren, I adjure you, haste to fallBetimes upon this stone and bruise your pride;Wait but too long, this stone will fall on you:Not then your pride, but you, not bruised will be,But ground to undistinguishable dust."So Stephen spoke; and ceased, as loth to cease.The moments of his speaking had been likeA slow and dreadful imminence of storm.With those august and awful opening wordsOf his, which were not his, but God's, it wasAs when an altered elemental moodUsurps the atmosphere; the winds are laid,Clouds gather, mass to mass, anon perchanceRoll back, disclosing spaces of clear sky,But close again, deeper and darker, fullOf thunder, silent yet, of lightning, leashedFrom leaping forth, but watchful for its prey.Such had been Stephen's speaking, boded storm;His ceasing was the tempest burst at last—A silent tempest, silent and unseen,Rending the elements of the world of soul!Meanwhile the angels in attendance there,Watching with eyes that see the invisibleThings of the spirit of man within his breast,The posture and behavior of the mind,Had seen exhibited amidst that lateMotionless multitude of souls suspenseWith supernatural awe, a spectacleOf consternation and precipitate flightTo covert, such as sometimes is beheldIn nature, when a mighty tempest lowers,And man, beast, bird, each conscious living thing,Shuddering, hies to hiding from the wrack.With wild inaudible outcry heard in heaven,That shattered congregation, soul by soul,Each soul its several way, fled, to find shroudFrom spiritual tempest hurtling on the head,Intolerably, hailstones and coals of fire.But one excepted spirit stood aloof,Scorning to join the fellowship of flight.Like a tall pine by whirlwind lonely leftUpon his mountain, forest abject round,This man dared lift, though sole, a helmless browOf stubborn hardihood to take the storm.Others, dismayed, might flee to refuge; Saul,Not undismayed, fronted the wrath of God.Shimei alone there neither stood nor fell;By habit grovelling, on his belly prone,Already prostrate he had thither come.Incapable of awe from good inspired,He, abject, but without humility,Ever, by force of reptile nature, crawled;And now had crawled, as, dusty demon's-heartAnd vitreous eye of basilisk, he still—With equal, though with different, enmity,Devising death for Stephen in his mind,And studying slow prolonged revenge for Saul—Watched all, whatever chanced to either there;But most, malignantly delighted, watchedDeepen the settled shadow on Saul's faceCast from the darkness of his inner mood.

The tumult grew a tempest when Saul ceased:No single voice of mortal man might hope,Though clear like clarion and like trumpet loud,To live in that possessed demoniac seaOf vast vociferation whelming all,Or ride the surges of the wild uproar.What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thy mad mindSo suddenly was soothed? Did 'Peace, be still!'Dropping, an unction from the Holy One,Softly as erst on stormy Galilee,Wide overspread the summits of the wavesAnd sway their swelling down to glassy calm?Stephen stood forth to speak, and all was still.

Before he spoke, already Rachel feltA different power of silence there, and sense,Within, other than sympathetic awe;This felt she, though she knew it not, nor dreamedIt was the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven!

"Brethren"—so Stephen spoke, beyond his wontNow, under awe of grave occasion, calmedFrom God with power—"God's thoughts are not our thoughts,Neither our ways His ways; for as the heavensAre than the earth more high, so than our waysMore high are His, and His thoughts than our thoughts.Our valued wisdom folly is to GodFull oft; then most, when folly seems to usGod's wisdom. Have ye yet to learn that GodRejoices to confound the vain conceitOf man? The Scriptures, then, search ye with eyesBlinded so thick? It is Isaiah's word:'Jehovah, yea, hath poured upon you allThe spirit of deep sleep, and hath your eyes,Those prophets of the soul that might be, closed,Also your heads, meant to be seers, hath veiled;And vision all is now to you becomeEven as the words of a shut book and sealed.Therefore Jehovah saith, For that this peopleDraw nigh to Me in worship with their mouth,But have their heart removed from Me afar,While all their fear of Me is empty formEnjoined of men, and idly learned by rote—Behold, a thing of wonder will I doAmong this people, wonder passing thought,And perish shall the wisdom of their wiseAnd prudence of their prudent come to nought!'

"Brethren, that was man's wisdom which just nowYe heard, and were well pleased to hear, from Saul.Hearken again, and hear what God will speak."

At the first word that fell from Stephen's lips,An overshadowing of the Holy GhostHung like a heaven above the multitude;With every word that followed, slow and full,That awful cope seemed ever hovering downImpendent nearer, as when, fold to fold,Droops lower and lower a dark and thunderous sky.The speaker used no arts of oratory;Only a still small voice, not wholly his,Nor wholly human, issuing from his lips,Only a voice, but eloquence was shamed.And Stephen thus his theme premised pursues:"Rightly and wrongly, both at once, have yeThis day been taught of God's Messiah; KingHe is, as Saul has said, but in a sense,And with a highth and depth and length and breadthAnd reach immense of meaning, that nor Saul,Nor ye, nor any by the Holy GhostUntaught, have yet conceived. Not of this worldHis kingdom is. The pageant and the pomp,State visible, and splendor to the eye,Are of this world that vanishes away,And of the princes of this world that comeTo naught. His glory whose the kingdom isWhereof I speak, no eye hath seen, no eyeCan see. That vision is for naked soul.

"The lordship and authority which cravesObeisance of the knee, the lip, the hand,And the neck breaks to an unwelcome yoke,But traitor leaves the hidden heart within,Rebel the will insurgent, infidelThe mind, the critic reason dissident,And violated conscience enemy—Such rule is but the hollow show of rule,A husk of vain pretence, the kernel gone.

"No earthly kingdom such, Messiah's is,Of nations hating and yet serving Him—Trampled into the dust beneath His feet,And either cringing or else gnashing rage.A kingdom here on earth of heaven to found,From heaven to earth God's true Messiah comes;A kingdom built of meek and lowly heartsBy Monarch meek and lowly to be ruled;A world-wide kingdom and a time-long reign.This kingdom new of heaven on earth commencedWill gather Jew and Gentile both in one,Whereso, of high or low, of rich or poor,Heart ready to receive it shall be found,In time or clime however hence afar.For hear Him speak, the High and Lofty OneWho maketh His abode eternity:'Lo, in the high and holy place dwell I,Likewise with him of meek and contrite mind.'

"In those words were foreshown the things which are,Brethren, and kingdom which we preach to you,Messiah here indeed, His reign begun,Invisible but glorious, on the earth.He that hath ears to hear, lo, let him hear,And hail the one right Ruler come at last;Who rules not nations, masses of mankindOnly, with indiscriminate wide swayImperfect though to view magnificent,By many an individual will unfelt;But seeks His subjects singly, soul by soul,And over each, through all within him, reigns.Jew must with Gentile, heart by heart, submitTo own Messiah thus his Lord and King,Throning Him sovereign in the realm of self,The empire of a humble, contrite mind.

"No other rule is real than rule like this,The true Messiah's rule, which well withinThe flying scouts and outposts of the man,Wins to the midmost seat and citadelOf being, where the soul itself resides,And tames the master captive to its thrall.Then sings the soul unto herself and says,'Bless thou, Jehovah, O my soul, and allThat is within me, bless His holy name!'Filled is the hidden part with melody.For joyfully the reason then consents,The mind is full of light to see, and says'Amen!' the will resolves the oppositeOf its old self, won by the heart, which, moreThan mere obedience, loves; conscience the whileDelightedly infusing all delight,And Holy Spirit breathing benison.

"Such subjugation is a state of peace;But peace, stagnation not, nor death. You liveAnd move and have your being evermoreFresher and deeper, purer and more full,Drawn in an ether and an elementInstinct and vivid with God. The appetitesAre subject servitors to will, the willHearkens to reason and regards its voice—Reason which is the will of Him who reigns,Your reason and His will insensiblyBlending to grow incorporate in one.Such is the kingdom of the Christ of God.You easily miss it—for it cometh notWith observation; you must look withinTo find it—pray that you may find it so."

A mien of something more than majestyIn Stephen as he spoke, transfiguring him;Conscious authority loftier than pride;Deep calm which made intensity seem weak;Slow weight more insupportable than speed;Passion so pure that its effect was peace,Beatifying his face; betokened powerBeneath him that supported him, behindHim that impelled, above him and withinThat steadied him immovable, suppliedAs from a fountain of omnipotence;An air breathed round him of prophetic raptSolemnity oppressive beyond wordsAnd dread communication from the throne,Moved near, of the Most High, which only notThundered and lightened, as from the touched topOf Sinai once in witness of the law—Such might, not Stephen's, wrought with Stephen thereAnd laid his hearers subject at his feet.

Saul saw the grasp secure that he had laidUpon his brethren's minds and hearts—to hold,He proudly, confidently deemed, againstWhatever counter force of eloquence—This tenure his he saw relaxed, dissolved,Evanishéd, as it had never been.Perplexed, astonished, but impenetrable,Though dashed and damped in spirit and in hope,Angry he stood, recoiled upon himself.

But Rachel had a different history.She felt her inmost conscience searched and known;Sharper than any sword of double edge,The Word of God through Stephen pierced her heart,And there asunder clove her self and self.She heeded Stephen's warning words; she lookedWithin, she pressed her hand upon her heartAnd prayed, "O God, my God, my fathers' God,Thy kingdom—grant thatImay find ithere!"So praying she listened while farther Stephen spoke:"That such a Ruler should be such as HeWhom we proclaim, the Man of Nazareth,The Carpenter, the Man of Calvary,Affronts your reason, tempts to disbelief—Doubtless; but all the more shown absoluteHis sovereignty, transcendent, passing quiteLimit of precedent or parallel,As nothing in Him outwardly appearsTo soothe your pride in yielding to His claim.Always the more offended pride rebels,Is proved his triumph greater who subdues.Deep is our human heart, and versatileExceedingly, ingenious past our ken,Inventive of contrivances to saveFond pride from hurt. But here is no escape;Pride must be hurt and bleed, unsalved her wounds.She may not conquer crouching, she must crouchConquered; nor only so, she must be gladTo be the conquered, not the conqueror;Thus deeply must the heart abjure itself,Thus deeply own the mastership of Christ.Christ will not practise on your self-conceitAnd lure you to obey illusively.Obedience is not obedienceSave as, obeying, you love, loving, obey—The chief of all obediences, love."

Such serene counter to his own superbDisdain of Jesus wrought on Saul effectDiverse from that meanwhile in Rachel wrought.She yielded to exchange her standing-ground,And ceased to hold her centre in herself.Centred in God, she all things new beheldTranslated by the mighty parallax.Open she threw the portals of her soulAnd gave the keys up to her new-found King.

But Saul more stubbornly than ever clampedHis feet to keep them standing where they stood.Haughty, erect, rebuffing—he alone—He still stared on at Stephen, who Saul's scornFelt subtly like a fierce oppugnant forceResistlessly attractive to his aim,As, suddenly soon borne into a swiftInvoluntary swerving of his speech—Himself, with Saul, surprising—he went on:"Such lord, requiring such obedience,In Him of Nazareth, a man approvedOf God by many mighty works through HimAmong you done, this day I preach to you,My brethren all—my brother Saul, to thee!"

Therewith full round on Saul the speaker turned;That self-same instant, the seraphic sheenBrightened to dazzling upon Stephen's face;Saul standing there, transfixed to listen, blenched,As if a lightning-flash had blinded him.Then, prophet-wise, like Nathan come beforeKing David sinner, Stephen, his right handAnd fixed forefinger flickering forth at Saul,An intense moment centred upon him,Sole, the converging ardors of his speech—As who, with lens of cunning convex, drawsInto one focus all the solar raysCollected to engender burning heat.

Rachel, who saw Saul blench, and full well knewWhat pangs on pangs his pride could force him bear—He smiling blithely while he inly bled—Watched, with a heart divided in sore painBetween the sister's pity of his caseAnd sympathy against him for his sake,As Stephen thus his speech to Saul addressed:"Yea, to thee, Saul my brother, in thy flushAnd prime of youth and youthful hope, thy joy,Thy pride, of all-accomplished intellect,And sense of self-sufficing righteousness—To thee, thou pupil of Gamaliel, thee,Thou Hebrew of the Hebrews, Pharisee,Against the gust and fury of thy zeal,And in the teeth of thy repellent scorn,Jesus the crucified I preachthylord.Blindly with bitter hate thou ragest nowAgainst Him; but hereafter, and not longHereafter, thou, despite, shalt lie prostrateBefore Him and beneath Him in the dust,Astonished with His glory sudden shownBeyond thy power with open eye to see.Lo, by the Holy Spirit bidden, IThis day plant pricks for thee to kick against.Cruel shall be the torture in thy breast,And unto cruel deeds thou didst not dreamThe torture in thy breast will madden thee—The anguish of a mind at strife with good,A will self-blinded not to cease from sin.Nevertheless at length I see thee mild—Broken thy pride, thy wisdom brought to naught,To thyself hateful thy self righteousness,Worshipping at His feet whom late thou didstPersecute in His members, persecuteIn me. Lo, with an everlasting loveI long for thee, O Saul, and draw thee, loveBorn of that love wherewith the Lord loved meAnd gave Himself for me to bitter death."

Rachel her prayer and love and longing joins,With tears, to Stephen's, for her brother, who,Conscious of many eyes upon him fixed,Far other thought, the while, and feeling, broods.

As captain, on the foremost imminent edgeOf battle, leading there a storming vanOf soldiers in some perilous attack,Pregnant with fate to empire, if he feelPierce to a vital part within his frameWound of invisible missile from the foe,Will hide his deadly hurt with mask of smile,That he damp not his followers' gallant cheer;Thus, though with motive other, chiefly pride,Saul, rallying sharply from that first surprise,Sternly shut up within his secret breastA poignant pang conceived from Stephen's words,Resentment fated to bear bitter fruit,But melt at last in gracious shame and tears.

With fixéd look impassible, he gazedAt Stephen, while, in altered phase, that pureEffulgence of apostleship burned on:"Nor, brethren, let this word of mine becomeScandal before your feet to stumble youHeadlong to ruin—'gave Himself for meTo bitter death'—implying it the Christ'sTo suffer death in sacrifice for sin.This is that thing of wonder prophesied,Confounding to the wisdom of the wise;A suffering Saviour, a Messiah shamed,Monarch arrayed in purple robes of scorn,With diadem of thorns pressed on His brow,And in His hand for sceptre thrust a reed—The Lord of life and glory crucified!

"Dim saw perhaps our father Abraham this,Through symbol and through prophecy containedIn smoking furnace and in blazing torchBeheld, that evening, when the sun went downAnd it was dark. The smoking furnace meantThe mystery of the Messiah's shameTo go before His glory typifiedIn the clear shining of the torch ablaze.

"Of the same mystery of agonyIn sorrow, shame, and death, forerunning darkThe bright and brightening sequel without endOf the Messiah's work, Isaiah spake,When he foresaw His coming day from far.The eagle vision of that seer was dimmedWith tears, like Jeremiah's, to beholdWhat he beheld—Messiah's visage soMarred more than any man's, and so His formMore than befell the sons of men. He read,Within the mirror of his prophecy,Astonishment depicted in the eyesOf many—in the eyes of which of you,My brethren?—at a spectacle so strange.The melancholy prophet saw a gloomOf unbelief darken the world. 'What soul,'Wails he, 'is found to credit our report?To whom has been revealed Jehovah's armIn such a wise outstretched to save?' Heart-sickAt what, too clearly for his peace, he sees,Isaiah, turning from his vision, criesIn pain—consider, brethren, whether yeUnwittingly fulfil what he portrays!—'He was despised, rejected was of men,A man of sorrows and acquainted wellWith grief; as one from whom men hide their face,Despised was He, and we esteemed Him not.'

"Now our own gospel hear Isaiah preach,The good news that such sufferings borne by Him,Messiah, were for you, for us, for all:'Surely our griefs they were Messiah bore,He carried sorrows that were due to us.Yet we, alas, of Him as stricken thought,Smitten of God, and for affliction marked!'

"Would God, my brethren, ye who hear these things,This day, were minded as the prophet wasWho thus from God reported them to you!He but foresaw them, and he saw them; yeSaw them, and did not see! And yet, even yet,Look back, as forward he; lo, touch your eyesWith eyesalve that ye be not blind, but see!See, with Isaiah, how Messiah was'Wounded for your transgressions, bruised so soreFor your iniquities, how chastisementOn Him was laid that peace should bring to you,How stripes whereby He bled to you were health.'

"Meekly and thankfully Isaiah sinksHimself, one drop, into the human sea,And says 'we,' 'our,' and 'us'—do ye the same.O brethren, if this day ye hear His voice,A whisper only in your ear from heaven,I pray you, harden not your heart. ConfessYour fault, and say with your own prophet, 'We,All we, like sheep, have gone astray, astray,And God on Him hath laid the sin of all.'"

At such expostulation and appealIneffable, found hidden in the wordsOf prophecy, Rachel her heart felt failInto a pathos of repentance sweetWith love and soft sense of forgiveness, boughtFor her at cost so dear!—and she dissolvedIn sobs and tears of sorrow exquisite,Better than joy, and uncontrollable.The mastership of Jesus now to herMerged in the sweetness of His saviorship;The duty of obedience to a LordAll taken up, transfigured, glorified,In the transcendent privilege of love.Never such grief in joy, such joy in grief,Was hers before—for self was wholly slainAnd her whole life grew love unutterable.

Yet longed she, with a hope that half was pain,For Saul, while Stephen brokenly went on:"O ye to whom for the last time I speak,My heart is large for you, it breaks for you,And melts to tears within me while I plead.I pray you, I beseech you, in Christ's stead,Be reconciled to God. Hearken this onceAnd answer, Were it set your task, in choiceFew words to frame the image and the lotOf Jesus whom ye slew, how otherwiseMore fitly could ye do it than was doneAforetime by Isaiah when he wroteProphetically thus of Christ to be:'Oppressed He was, yet He abased HimselfAnd opened not His mouth; even as a lambLed to the slaughter, as a sheep beforeHer shearers speechless, so He opened notHis mouth. His grave they with the wicked made,And with the rich they laid Him in His death.'Say, brethren, was not Jesus very Christ?

"But, that ye err not, Messianic woeIs not the end; a glorious change succeeds.Isaiah chanted it in sequel gladAnd contrast of the sorrow-laden strainThat mourned Messiah's sufferings; hear the song:'When thou, Jehovah, shalt His soul have madeAn offering for sin, Messiah thenThe endless issue of His pain shall see;Still on and on He shall His days prolong,And in His hand the pleasure of the LordShall prosper; of the travail of His soulHe shall see fruit and shall be satisfied.'So, with rejoicing too serenely fullFor exultation, sang Isaiah thenOf Messianic glory following shame.

"And now, concerning Jesus whom ye slew,Know, brethren, that He burst the bands of death,Which could not hold the Lord of life in thrall.Know that He, having risen, rose again,Ascending far above all height, and ledCaptive captivity; attended soWith retinue of deliverance numberless,He entered heaven a Conqueror and a King;Before Him lifted up their heads the gates,The everlasting doors admitted Him.There sits He now associate by the sideOf His Almighty Father, Lord of all.For to Him every knee shall bow, in heaven,On earth, and every tongue confess that He,Jesus, is Lord; Jehovah wills it so.

"Fall, brethren, I adjure you, haste to fallBetimes upon this stone and bruise your pride;Wait but too long, this stone will fall on you:Not then your pride, but you, not bruised will be,But ground to undistinguishable dust."

So Stephen spoke; and ceased, as loth to cease.

The moments of his speaking had been likeA slow and dreadful imminence of storm.With those august and awful opening wordsOf his, which were not his, but God's, it wasAs when an altered elemental moodUsurps the atmosphere; the winds are laid,Clouds gather, mass to mass, anon perchanceRoll back, disclosing spaces of clear sky,But close again, deeper and darker, fullOf thunder, silent yet, of lightning, leashedFrom leaping forth, but watchful for its prey.Such had been Stephen's speaking, boded storm;His ceasing was the tempest burst at last—A silent tempest, silent and unseen,Rending the elements of the world of soul!

Meanwhile the angels in attendance there,Watching with eyes that see the invisibleThings of the spirit of man within his breast,The posture and behavior of the mind,Had seen exhibited amidst that lateMotionless multitude of souls suspenseWith supernatural awe, a spectacleOf consternation and precipitate flightTo covert, such as sometimes is beheldIn nature, when a mighty tempest lowers,And man, beast, bird, each conscious living thing,Shuddering, hies to hiding from the wrack.With wild inaudible outcry heard in heaven,That shattered congregation, soul by soul,Each soul its several way, fled, to find shroudFrom spiritual tempest hurtling on the head,Intolerably, hailstones and coals of fire.

But one excepted spirit stood aloof,Scorning to join the fellowship of flight.Like a tall pine by whirlwind lonely leftUpon his mountain, forest abject round,This man dared lift, though sole, a helmless browOf stubborn hardihood to take the storm.Others, dismayed, might flee to refuge; Saul,Not undismayed, fronted the wrath of God.

Shimei alone there neither stood nor fell;By habit grovelling, on his belly prone,Already prostrate he had thither come.Incapable of awe from good inspired,He, abject, but without humility,Ever, by force of reptile nature, crawled;And now had crawled, as, dusty demon's-heartAnd vitreous eye of basilisk, he still—With equal, though with different, enmity,Devising death for Stephen in his mind,And studying slow prolonged revenge for Saul—Watched all, whatever chanced to either there;But most, malignantly delighted, watchedDeepen the settled shadow on Saul's faceCast from the darkness of his inner mood.

Saul, sullen, gloomy, and chagrined, over his discomfiture recently experienced, is visited, in his self-imposed seclusion at home, by Shimei, who, always by nature antipathetic to Saul, hates him virulently now for the affront from him received publicly in the late council. Shimei exasperates Saul with sneering, pretended sympathy for him over his defeat at Stephen's hands; at the same time disclosing the plot he has himself concocted, involving subornation of perjury, with alleged connivance on the part of the Sanhedrim in general, for the stoning of Stephen. Shimei gone, Saul, in the open court of his dwelling, sits solitary, brooding in the depths of dejection over the fallen state of his fortunes.

As if one, from some poise of prospect high,Should overlook below a plain outspreadAnd see a bright embattled host, in closeArray of antique chivalry, supposedInvincible, advancing, panoplied,Horseman and horse, in steel, and with delightOf battle pricked to speed, he—while that host,Swift, like one man, across the field of war,With pennons gay astream upon the wind,And arms and armor flashing in the sun,Moved to the sound of martial music brave—Might ask, "What strength set counter could withstandThe multiplied momentum of such blow?"And yet, as, let a rock-built citadelUpspring before them in their conquering way,And, through embrasures in the frowning wall,Let enginery of carnage new and strange,Vomiting smoke and flame from hellish mouths—Let cannon, with their noise like thunder, belch,Volleying, their bolts like thunderbolts amainAmong those gallant columns, then would beAmazement seen, and ruinous overthrow;So, late, to Saul's superbly confidentAssay of onset all seemed nigh to yield,Till that the wisdom of the Holy Ghost,Through Stephen speaking, made the utmost mightOf eloquence ridiculous and vain,So was the duel all unequal, joinedBy Saul with Stephen on that fateful day.Though not ill matched the champions' native forceAnd spirit, and not far from even their skill,Equipment disparate of weaponry—Human against Divine, infinite odds!—Made the conclusion of the strife foregone.Had mortal prowess against prowess beenBetween those twain the naked issue tried,Saul, with his sanguine dash of onset, mightPerchance have won the day—through sheer surpriseOf sudden and impetuous movement swiftBeyond the other's readiness to opposeAn instantaneous rally of quick thoughtAnd lightning-like alertness of stanch willMustering and mastering his collected might.But the event and fortune of that hourResolved no doubt which combatant excelledIn wit or will or strength or exercise.Stephen was fortressed round impregnably,Saul stood in open field obvious to wound;Saul wielded weapons of the present world,Celestial weapons furnished Stephen—nay,Weapon himself, the Almighty wielded him.Saul knew himself defeated, overwhelmed.By how much he had purposed in his heart,And buoyantly expected, beyond doubtOr possible peradventure, to prevail,More than prevail, triumph, abound, redound,And overflow, with ample surplusageOf prosperous fortune far transcending allPublic conjecture of his hoped success;By so much now he found himself insteadBuried beneath discomfiture immenseAnd boundless inundation of defeat.For multitudes of new believers wonTo Stephen's side from Saul's thronged to the Way,Storming the kingdom of heaven with violence.It was a nation hastening to be born,Like Israel out of Egypt, in a day.As Israel out of Egypt were baptizedTo Moses in the cloud and in the sea,So Israel out of Israel Saul now sawBaptized obedient into Jesus' name.Dissolving round about him seemed to SaulThe earth itself with its inhabitants,And, to bear up the pillars of it, heA broken reed that could not stand alone!But, while thus worsted Saul forlornly feltHimself, he by whom worsted missed to know.His challenge was to Stephen; how should heGuess that in Stephen God would answer him?Unconsciously with God at enmity,But with God's servant Stephen consciously,Saul chafed and raged in proud and blindfold hate;Half yet, the while, despising too himself,Detected hating thus, by his own heartDetected hating, his antagonist,For the sole blame of visiting on himThe fortune he had purposed to inflict.Saul in such mood of rancor and remorseCommingled—both unhappy sentimentsStill mutually exasperating eachThe other—Shimei came to him.Now SaulAnd Shimei were two opposites intenseIn nature, never toward each other drawn,But violently ever sent asunder;Yet chiefly by repulsion lodged in Saul,Spurning off Shimei, as the good the evil;For Saul instinctively was noble, frank,And true, as Shimei instinctivelyWas false, profound in guile, to base inclined.But strangely, since that council wherein SaulFulmined his shame on Shimei's proffer vile,Shimei had felt the other's scorn of himA force importunate to tempt him nigh—Perverse attraction in repulsion found!—As evil ever struggles toward the good,Not to be leavened with virtue issuing thence,But leaven instead to likeness with itself.So Shimei came to Saul, as knowing SaulSpurned him avaunt with loathing; in degreeAttracted as he was intensely spurned.He fain would feast his malice on the pride,Seen writhing, fain would make it writhe the more,Of Saul in his discomfiture.With mienDemure of hypocritic sympathy,The nauseating vehicle of sneer,Malignly studied to exacerbateThe galled and angry feeling in Saul's mind,He thus addressed that haughty Pharisee:"The outcome of your effort, brother Saul,To vindicate the cause of truth and God—And therewithal justly advance somewhatYour individual profit and esteemAs rising bulwark of the Jewish state,Whereby so much the better you might hopeHereafter to promote the general weal—This spirited attempt, I say, of yoursHas in its issue disappointed you,You, and your friends no less, who, all of us,Together with yourself, refused to dreamAught but the most felicitous eventTo enterprise with so much statelinessOf dignity impressively announcedBy you, and show of lofty confidence.By the way, Saul, the grand air suits your styleAstonishingly well; I should adviseYour cultivation of it. Why, at times,When you display that absolutely frankAnd unaffected lack of modestyWhich marks you, really, now, the effect on me,Even me, is almost irresistible;I find myself well-nigh imposed uponTo call it an effect of majesty."But, to sustain the impression, Saul, it needs,Quite needs, that you somehow contrive to shunThese awkward misadventures; the grand airIs less impressive in a man well knownTo have made a bad miscarriage, such as yours.For in fact you—with sincere pain I say it—But served to Stephen as a sort of foilTo set his talent off and heighten it.You must yourself feel this to be the case;For never since that windy PentecostIn which we thought we saw the top and turnTo this delirium of delusion touched,Never, I say, till now were seen so manyNew perverts to the Nazarene as seemsYou two, between you, you and Stephen, Saul,Managed, that memorable day, to make.It is a pity, and I grieve with you.Still, Saul, let us consider that your case,Undoubtedly unfortunate, presentsThis one alleviating circumstance,At least, that your defeat demonstrates pastGainsaying what an arduous attemptYours was, and thereby glorifies the moreThat admirable headiness of yoursWhich egged you on to venture unadvised.For my own part, I like prodigiouslyTo see your young man overflow with spirit;Age will bring wisdom fast enough; but spirit,Like yours, Saul, comes, when come it does at all,Born with the man. Never regret that youDared nobly; rather hug yourself for thatWith pride; pride greater, since, through proof, awareYou really dared more nobly than you knew."Some increment too of wisdom you have wonFrom your experience; not to be despised,Though ornament rather of age than youth.I may presume you now less indisposedThan late you were, to reinforce, support,And supplement mere obstinacy—fine,Of course, as I have said, yet attributeCommon to man with beast—by counsel ripeAnd scheme of well-considered policy,Adapted to secure your end with ease.Economy of effort well befitsMan, the express image and counterpartOf God, who always works with parsimony,Compassing greatest ends with smallest means,To waste no particle of omnipotence."Count now that you have rendered plain enoughWhat single-eyed, straightforward stubbornnessCan, and cannot, effect in this behalf;So much is gained; now be our conscience clearTo cast about and find some other means,Than mere main strength in public controversy,Of dealing with these raw recalcitrants.They lacked the grace to be discomfitedIn honorable combat fairly joined,Let them now look to it how much their grossEffrontery in overthrowing youShall profit them at last. I have a scheme"—"Your scheme,"—so, from the depths of his chagrinAnd anguish at the contact of the man,Spoke Saul, unwilling longer to endureThe friction and abrasion of his words—"Your scheme, whatever it may be, cannotConcern my knowing; nothing you should planWere likely to conciliate in meEither my judgment, or my taste, or pleaseMy sense of what becoming is and right.I pray you spare yourself the pains to unfoldFurther to me your thought; your work were waste."But Shimei, naught abashed, nay, rather moreSet on, imagining that he touched in SaulThe quick of suffering sensibilityReplied:"Yea, brother Saul, I did not failIn our late session to observe what youHinted of your unreadiness to accordYour valuable support to my advice,Advanced on that occasion loyallyHowever far outrunning what the mostWere then prepared frankly to act upon.We weaker, Saul, who may not hope to beAthletes like you, whose sole resource must lieIn studying more profoundly than the rest,Are liable to be misunderstoodNot seldom, when, through meditation deepAnd painful, we arrive to see somewhatBeyond the common, and propound adviceStartling, because some stages in advanceOf the conclusions less laborious mindsReach and stop at contented—for a while,But which mere halting-places on the roadProve in the end, and not the final goal.You probably remember, when I toldThe council that some good judicious guileWas what was needed, not one voice spoke upTo second my suggestion. Very well,The lagging rear of wisdom has since thenMoved bravely up to step with me, and nowWe walk along abreast harmoniouslyUpon the very road I pointed out;'Guile' is the word with all the Sanhedrim."But stay, you may perhaps not be apprisedExactly of the current state of things—You have kept yourself, you know, a bit retiredThese few days past, a natural thing to do,Under the circumstances, all admit—Well, we have made some progress; I myself,To imitate your lack of modestyAnd don the egotistic, I myselfHave not been idle; all in fact is nowAdjusted on a plan of compromise,My own invention, everybody pleased.We shall dispose of Stephen for you, Saul:Council; Stephen arrested and arraigned;Production of effective testimony;A hearing of the accused; commotion raised,While he is speaking, to help on his zeal;Then, at the proper point, some heated phraseOf his let slip, a sudden rush of allUpon him with a cry of 'Blasphemy!'—Impulse of passionate enthusiasm,You know, premeditated with much care—And he is stoned; which makes an end ofhim.Such is the outline; not precisely whatI could have wished, a little too much noise,The Mattathias tinge in it too strong—Still, everything considered, fairly good.The moment favors; for the very fumeAnd fury of the popular capriceHas put it out of breath; nay, for the nonce,The wind sits, such at least my hope is, veeredAnd shifted points enough about to bearA touch of generous violence from us;Then, as for those our rulers, they connive."You see I have been open to admitIdeas the very opposite of my own.I am not one to haggle for a pointSimply because it happened to be mine.The end, the end, is what we seek; the meansSignifies nothing to the wise. 'Let usBe wise,' as our friend Nicodemus said,That day, with so much gnomic wisdom couchedIn affable cohortative, as whoShould say encouragingly, 'Go to, good friends,Let us be gods'; wisdom and godship come,As everybody knows, with equal easeIndifferently, through simple conative,'Let us,' and so forth, and the thing is done."This voluble and festive cynicism,Taking fresh head again and yet again,At intervals, to flow an endless stream,From Shimei's mouth, of bitter pleasantry;His vulgarly-presumed familiar airsAnd leer of mutual understanding, feltRather than seen, upon his countenance;The gurgling glee of self-complacencyThat purred, one long susurrus, through his talk;The insufferable assumption tacitlyImplied that human virtue was a jestAt which the wise between themselves might grinNor hide their grin with a decorous veil;These things in his unwelcome guest, traits allInseparably adhering to the man,Or fibre of his nature, Saul recoiledFrom, and revolted at, habitually:They rendered Shimei's very neighborhoodAn insupportable disgust to him.Still did some fascination Shimei owned,Perhaps a show of wit in mockery,Playing upon a momentary moodOf uncharacteristic helplessness in Saul(A humor too of wilfulness and spiteAgainst himself displacent with himselfThat made him hold his sore and quivering prideHard to the goad that hurt it) keep him mute,If listless, while thus Shimei streamed on:"Well, as I said, friend Saul, I had no prideTo carry an opinion of my own;The scheme I brooded was a compromise.I plume myself upon a certain skillI have, knack I should call it, in this line.I like a pretty piece of joineryIn plot, such match of motley odds and endsAs tickles you with sense of happy hit,And here you have it. See, I take a bitOf magisterial statesmanship to startWith—go to Rome, as Caiaphas advised,Though not quite on his errand; Rome agreesTo wink, while we indulge ourselves in whatTo us will be self-rule resumed, to her,A spasm of our Judæan savagery.Thus is the way made eligibly clearFor brother Mattathias with those stonesHe raves about on all occasions—rubbedSmooth, they must be, as David's from the brook,With constant wear in Mattathias' hands!Was it not grim to hear him talk that day?His dream of Maccabæan blood aboilWithin his veins has been too much for him,Made him a monomaniac on this point;He sees before him visionary stones,Imponderable stones torment his hands;Give him his chance, have him at last let flyA real stone, a hard one, at somebody,Who knows? it might bring Mattathias round.Stephen at any rate shall be his man,Hiscorpus vile, as our masters say—Fair game of turn and turn about for him,Dog, to have handled you so roughly, Saul!Trick of Beelzebub, no manner of doubt."But here I loiter, while you burn of courseTo hear what figure you yourself may cutIn my brave patchwork scheme of compromise.I modestly adjoin myself to Saul,And so we two go in together, paired—A little of your logic let intoA little of my guile, and a fine fit."Shimei had counted for a master strokeOf disagreeable humor sure to tellOn Saul, the piecing of himself on himIn plan, conscious of Saul's antipathy.But Shimei still misapprehended Saul,Lacking the standard in himself wherewithTo measure or assay the sentimentOf such as Saul for such as Shimei.Saul simply and serenely so despisedShimei, that nothing he should do or sayCould change Saul's sentiment to more, or less,Or other, than it constantly abode,The absolute zero of indifference.Half absently, through fits of alien thought,And half with unconfessed concern to knowWhat passed among his fellow-councillorsAbroad, a little curious too withalWondering how any artifice of fraudCould Saul with Shimei combine, to makeSuch twain seem partners of one policy—So minded, Saul gave ear, while Shimei thusThe acrid juices of his humor spilled:"Here is the method of the joinery.You know you put it strongly that the endOf that pretended gospel which they preach,Would be to overturn the Jewish state,Abolishing Moses, and extinguishingThe glory of the temple, and all that—Really sonorous rhetoric it was,That passage, Saul, and it deserved to win;But who can win against Beelzebub?Logic turned rhetoric is my ideaOf eloquence, and my idea youRealized; but Stephen, without eloquence,Bore off from you the fruit of eloquence:Never mind, Saul, it was Beelzebub.Let rhetoric now go back to logic; youDemonstrated so inexpugnablyThe necessary inference containedIn Stephen's doctrine, hardly were it guile—Though doubtless you will call it such, you haveYour sublimated notions on these points—To say outright that Stephen taught the thingsYou proved implicit in the things he taught;At all events, guile or no guile—in fact,Guileandno guile it is, if closely scanned—Here is the scheme:—We find some blunderheads,Who, primed with method for their blundering,Will misremember and transfer from youTo Stephen what you stated on this point.These worthies then shall roundly testifyBefore our honorable body metTo give the fellow his fair hearing ereHis sentence—said fair hearing not of courseEventually to affect said sentence due—Shall, I say, swear that they distinctly heardStephen set forth that Jesus NazareneWas going to destroy this place and changeThe customs Moses gave us; bring aboutIn brief precisely what, with so much force,You showed would surely happen"—"Shimei"—Saul interrupted Shimei again,Surprised into expression by the shockTo hear himself mixed up in any way,Of indirection even, in fraud like this—"Shimei, I thought that nothing you could sayWould further tempt me into speech to you;But you have broken my bond of self-restraint.Suborning perjury! That well accordsWith what you slanted at in council once,And what I trusted I had then and thereMade clear my scorn of. Shimei, hear—I setMy heel upon this thing and once for allGrind it into the dust.""In figure, of course,"Promptly leered Shimei, interrupting Saul;"The thing goes forward just the same; you setIt under foot—in your rhetorical way;I, in my practical way, set it on foot;No mutual interference, each well pleased."But, seriously, Saul, you overworkThe idea of conscience. What is conscience? MereSelf-will assuming virtuous airs. A termCajoles you into making it a pointOf moral obligation to be stiff.Limber up, Saul, and be adjustable.Capacity of taking several pointsOf view at will is good. For instance, now,Probably Stephen may, at various times,Himself have stated quite explicitlyWhat your rhetorical logic showed to beInextricably held as inferenceIn his harangues. Take it so, Saul, if soRender your conscience easier; I myselfHighly enjoy my easy conscience. Still,Nothing could be more natural than that some,Hearers non-critical, you know, should mixWhat you said with what Stephen said, and soQuite honestly swear falsely—to the gainOf truth. And to whose loss? Stephen's, perhaps,But other's, none. So, salve your conscience, Saul—Which somehow you must learn, and soon, to do;Unless you mean to play obstructionist,Instead of coadjutor, in the workYou, with good motive, but with scurvy luck,Set about doing late so lustily.Conscience itself is to be sacrificed,At need, to serve the cause of righteousness.What is it but egregious egotismTo obtrude, forsooth, a point of conscience, whenYou jeopard general interests thereby?One's conscience is a private matter; letYour conscience wince a little, if need be,In order that the public good be served.That is true generosity. 'Let usBe just,' said Nicodemus; good, say I,But in this matter of our consciences,Let us go further and be generous."As one who turns a stopcock and arrestsA flow of water that need never cease,So Shimei left off speaking, not less fullOf matter than at first that might be speech.With indescribable smirk, and cynic sneerConveyed, sirocco breath of blight to faithIn virtue and in good, he went away,Cheering himself that he had somewhat chilledWithin the breast of that young PhariseeThe ardor of conviction, and of hopeFed by conviction,—but still more that heHad probed and hurt the festering wounds of pride.Saul's first relief to be alone again,Rid of that nauseous presence, presentlyWas followed by depression and relapseFrom his instinctive tension to resistThe unnerving spell of Shimei's influence.Saul found that in the teeth of his contemptFor Shimei, absolute in measure, nay,By reason of that contempt, he had conceivedShame and chagrin beyond his strength to bear.That Shimei, such as Shimei, should have daredTo visit Saul, and drill and drill his ears,With indefatigable screw of tongueSinking a shaft through which to drench and drownHis soul with spew from out a source so vile—This argued fall indeed for him from whatHe lately was, from what he hoped to be,Far more, in popular repute. The stingThat Shimei purposed subtly to infix,With that malicious irony and tauntRecurrent, the intentional affront,All of it, failed, blunted and turned in pointAgainst the safe impenetrable mailOf Saul's contempt for Shimei. But thatWhich Shimei meant not, nor dreamed, but was,Went through and through Saul's double panoply,Found permeable now, of pride and scorn,And wilted him with self-disparagement.He marvelled at himself how he had not,At first forthputting of that impudence,Stormed the wretch dumb, with hurricane outburstOf passionate scorn; a quick revulsion then,And Saul was chafing that he had so farGrace of rebuff vouchsafed, and honest heat,To creature lacking natural sense to feelRepudiation. Comfort none he found,No refuge from the persecuting thoughOf his own fall. He tried to brace himselfWith thinking, "If I failed, I failed at leastNot for myself, but God; I strove for God."But, ceaselessly, the image of himself,Humiliated, swam between to blurHis vision of God. He could not cease to seeSaul ever, in the mirror of his mind,And ever Stephen shadowing Saul's fair fame.

As if one, from some poise of prospect high,Should overlook below a plain outspreadAnd see a bright embattled host, in closeArray of antique chivalry, supposedInvincible, advancing, panoplied,Horseman and horse, in steel, and with delightOf battle pricked to speed, he—while that host,Swift, like one man, across the field of war,With pennons gay astream upon the wind,And arms and armor flashing in the sun,Moved to the sound of martial music brave—Might ask, "What strength set counter could withstandThe multiplied momentum of such blow?"And yet, as, let a rock-built citadelUpspring before them in their conquering way,And, through embrasures in the frowning wall,Let enginery of carnage new and strange,Vomiting smoke and flame from hellish mouths—Let cannon, with their noise like thunder, belch,Volleying, their bolts like thunderbolts amainAmong those gallant columns, then would beAmazement seen, and ruinous overthrow;So, late, to Saul's superbly confidentAssay of onset all seemed nigh to yield,Till that the wisdom of the Holy Ghost,Through Stephen speaking, made the utmost mightOf eloquence ridiculous and vain,So was the duel all unequal, joinedBy Saul with Stephen on that fateful day.Though not ill matched the champions' native forceAnd spirit, and not far from even their skill,Equipment disparate of weaponry—Human against Divine, infinite odds!—Made the conclusion of the strife foregone.Had mortal prowess against prowess beenBetween those twain the naked issue tried,Saul, with his sanguine dash of onset, mightPerchance have won the day—through sheer surpriseOf sudden and impetuous movement swiftBeyond the other's readiness to opposeAn instantaneous rally of quick thoughtAnd lightning-like alertness of stanch willMustering and mastering his collected might.But the event and fortune of that hourResolved no doubt which combatant excelledIn wit or will or strength or exercise.Stephen was fortressed round impregnably,Saul stood in open field obvious to wound;Saul wielded weapons of the present world,Celestial weapons furnished Stephen—nay,Weapon himself, the Almighty wielded him.

Saul knew himself defeated, overwhelmed.By how much he had purposed in his heart,And buoyantly expected, beyond doubtOr possible peradventure, to prevail,More than prevail, triumph, abound, redound,And overflow, with ample surplusageOf prosperous fortune far transcending allPublic conjecture of his hoped success;By so much now he found himself insteadBuried beneath discomfiture immenseAnd boundless inundation of defeat.For multitudes of new believers wonTo Stephen's side from Saul's thronged to the Way,Storming the kingdom of heaven with violence.It was a nation hastening to be born,Like Israel out of Egypt, in a day.As Israel out of Egypt were baptizedTo Moses in the cloud and in the sea,So Israel out of Israel Saul now sawBaptized obedient into Jesus' name.Dissolving round about him seemed to SaulThe earth itself with its inhabitants,And, to bear up the pillars of it, heA broken reed that could not stand alone!

But, while thus worsted Saul forlornly feltHimself, he by whom worsted missed to know.His challenge was to Stephen; how should heGuess that in Stephen God would answer him?Unconsciously with God at enmity,But with God's servant Stephen consciously,Saul chafed and raged in proud and blindfold hate;Half yet, the while, despising too himself,Detected hating thus, by his own heartDetected hating, his antagonist,For the sole blame of visiting on himThe fortune he had purposed to inflict.

Saul in such mood of rancor and remorseCommingled—both unhappy sentimentsStill mutually exasperating eachThe other—Shimei came to him.Now SaulAnd Shimei were two opposites intenseIn nature, never toward each other drawn,But violently ever sent asunder;Yet chiefly by repulsion lodged in Saul,Spurning off Shimei, as the good the evil;For Saul instinctively was noble, frank,And true, as Shimei instinctivelyWas false, profound in guile, to base inclined.But strangely, since that council wherein SaulFulmined his shame on Shimei's proffer vile,Shimei had felt the other's scorn of himA force importunate to tempt him nigh—Perverse attraction in repulsion found!—As evil ever struggles toward the good,Not to be leavened with virtue issuing thence,But leaven instead to likeness with itself.So Shimei came to Saul, as knowing SaulSpurned him avaunt with loathing; in degreeAttracted as he was intensely spurned.He fain would feast his malice on the pride,Seen writhing, fain would make it writhe the more,Of Saul in his discomfiture.With mienDemure of hypocritic sympathy,The nauseating vehicle of sneer,Malignly studied to exacerbateThe galled and angry feeling in Saul's mind,He thus addressed that haughty Pharisee:"The outcome of your effort, brother Saul,To vindicate the cause of truth and God—And therewithal justly advance somewhatYour individual profit and esteemAs rising bulwark of the Jewish state,Whereby so much the better you might hopeHereafter to promote the general weal—This spirited attempt, I say, of yoursHas in its issue disappointed you,You, and your friends no less, who, all of us,Together with yourself, refused to dreamAught but the most felicitous eventTo enterprise with so much statelinessOf dignity impressively announcedBy you, and show of lofty confidence.By the way, Saul, the grand air suits your styleAstonishingly well; I should adviseYour cultivation of it. Why, at times,When you display that absolutely frankAnd unaffected lack of modestyWhich marks you, really, now, the effect on me,Even me, is almost irresistible;I find myself well-nigh imposed uponTo call it an effect of majesty.

"But, to sustain the impression, Saul, it needs,Quite needs, that you somehow contrive to shunThese awkward misadventures; the grand airIs less impressive in a man well knownTo have made a bad miscarriage, such as yours.For in fact you—with sincere pain I say it—But served to Stephen as a sort of foilTo set his talent off and heighten it.You must yourself feel this to be the case;For never since that windy PentecostIn which we thought we saw the top and turnTo this delirium of delusion touched,Never, I say, till now were seen so manyNew perverts to the Nazarene as seemsYou two, between you, you and Stephen, Saul,Managed, that memorable day, to make.It is a pity, and I grieve with you.Still, Saul, let us consider that your case,Undoubtedly unfortunate, presentsThis one alleviating circumstance,At least, that your defeat demonstrates pastGainsaying what an arduous attemptYours was, and thereby glorifies the moreThat admirable headiness of yoursWhich egged you on to venture unadvised.For my own part, I like prodigiouslyTo see your young man overflow with spirit;Age will bring wisdom fast enough; but spirit,Like yours, Saul, comes, when come it does at all,Born with the man. Never regret that youDared nobly; rather hug yourself for thatWith pride; pride greater, since, through proof, awareYou really dared more nobly than you knew.

"Some increment too of wisdom you have wonFrom your experience; not to be despised,Though ornament rather of age than youth.I may presume you now less indisposedThan late you were, to reinforce, support,And supplement mere obstinacy—fine,Of course, as I have said, yet attributeCommon to man with beast—by counsel ripeAnd scheme of well-considered policy,Adapted to secure your end with ease.Economy of effort well befitsMan, the express image and counterpartOf God, who always works with parsimony,Compassing greatest ends with smallest means,To waste no particle of omnipotence.

"Count now that you have rendered plain enoughWhat single-eyed, straightforward stubbornnessCan, and cannot, effect in this behalf;So much is gained; now be our conscience clearTo cast about and find some other means,Than mere main strength in public controversy,Of dealing with these raw recalcitrants.They lacked the grace to be discomfitedIn honorable combat fairly joined,Let them now look to it how much their grossEffrontery in overthrowing youShall profit them at last. I have a scheme"—

"Your scheme,"—so, from the depths of his chagrinAnd anguish at the contact of the man,Spoke Saul, unwilling longer to endureThe friction and abrasion of his words—"Your scheme, whatever it may be, cannotConcern my knowing; nothing you should planWere likely to conciliate in meEither my judgment, or my taste, or pleaseMy sense of what becoming is and right.I pray you spare yourself the pains to unfoldFurther to me your thought; your work were waste."

But Shimei, naught abashed, nay, rather moreSet on, imagining that he touched in SaulThe quick of suffering sensibilityReplied:"Yea, brother Saul, I did not failIn our late session to observe what youHinted of your unreadiness to accordYour valuable support to my advice,Advanced on that occasion loyallyHowever far outrunning what the mostWere then prepared frankly to act upon.We weaker, Saul, who may not hope to beAthletes like you, whose sole resource must lieIn studying more profoundly than the rest,Are liable to be misunderstoodNot seldom, when, through meditation deepAnd painful, we arrive to see somewhatBeyond the common, and propound adviceStartling, because some stages in advanceOf the conclusions less laborious mindsReach and stop at contented—for a while,But which mere halting-places on the roadProve in the end, and not the final goal.You probably remember, when I toldThe council that some good judicious guileWas what was needed, not one voice spoke upTo second my suggestion. Very well,The lagging rear of wisdom has since thenMoved bravely up to step with me, and nowWe walk along abreast harmoniouslyUpon the very road I pointed out;'Guile' is the word with all the Sanhedrim.

"But stay, you may perhaps not be apprisedExactly of the current state of things—You have kept yourself, you know, a bit retiredThese few days past, a natural thing to do,Under the circumstances, all admit—Well, we have made some progress; I myself,To imitate your lack of modestyAnd don the egotistic, I myselfHave not been idle; all in fact is nowAdjusted on a plan of compromise,My own invention, everybody pleased.We shall dispose of Stephen for you, Saul:Council; Stephen arrested and arraigned;Production of effective testimony;A hearing of the accused; commotion raised,While he is speaking, to help on his zeal;Then, at the proper point, some heated phraseOf his let slip, a sudden rush of allUpon him with a cry of 'Blasphemy!'—Impulse of passionate enthusiasm,You know, premeditated with much care—And he is stoned; which makes an end ofhim.Such is the outline; not precisely whatI could have wished, a little too much noise,The Mattathias tinge in it too strong—Still, everything considered, fairly good.The moment favors; for the very fumeAnd fury of the popular capriceHas put it out of breath; nay, for the nonce,The wind sits, such at least my hope is, veeredAnd shifted points enough about to bearA touch of generous violence from us;Then, as for those our rulers, they connive.

"You see I have been open to admitIdeas the very opposite of my own.I am not one to haggle for a pointSimply because it happened to be mine.The end, the end, is what we seek; the meansSignifies nothing to the wise. 'Let usBe wise,' as our friend Nicodemus said,That day, with so much gnomic wisdom couchedIn affable cohortative, as whoShould say encouragingly, 'Go to, good friends,Let us be gods'; wisdom and godship come,As everybody knows, with equal easeIndifferently, through simple conative,'Let us,' and so forth, and the thing is done."

This voluble and festive cynicism,Taking fresh head again and yet again,At intervals, to flow an endless stream,From Shimei's mouth, of bitter pleasantry;His vulgarly-presumed familiar airsAnd leer of mutual understanding, feltRather than seen, upon his countenance;The gurgling glee of self-complacencyThat purred, one long susurrus, through his talk;The insufferable assumption tacitlyImplied that human virtue was a jestAt which the wise between themselves might grinNor hide their grin with a decorous veil;These things in his unwelcome guest, traits allInseparably adhering to the man,Or fibre of his nature, Saul recoiledFrom, and revolted at, habitually:They rendered Shimei's very neighborhoodAn insupportable disgust to him.Still did some fascination Shimei owned,Perhaps a show of wit in mockery,Playing upon a momentary moodOf uncharacteristic helplessness in Saul(A humor too of wilfulness and spiteAgainst himself displacent with himselfThat made him hold his sore and quivering prideHard to the goad that hurt it) keep him mute,If listless, while thus Shimei streamed on:

"Well, as I said, friend Saul, I had no prideTo carry an opinion of my own;The scheme I brooded was a compromise.I plume myself upon a certain skillI have, knack I should call it, in this line.I like a pretty piece of joineryIn plot, such match of motley odds and endsAs tickles you with sense of happy hit,And here you have it. See, I take a bitOf magisterial statesmanship to startWith—go to Rome, as Caiaphas advised,Though not quite on his errand; Rome agreesTo wink, while we indulge ourselves in whatTo us will be self-rule resumed, to her,A spasm of our Judæan savagery.Thus is the way made eligibly clearFor brother Mattathias with those stonesHe raves about on all occasions—rubbedSmooth, they must be, as David's from the brook,With constant wear in Mattathias' hands!Was it not grim to hear him talk that day?His dream of Maccabæan blood aboilWithin his veins has been too much for him,Made him a monomaniac on this point;He sees before him visionary stones,Imponderable stones torment his hands;Give him his chance, have him at last let flyA real stone, a hard one, at somebody,Who knows? it might bring Mattathias round.Stephen at any rate shall be his man,Hiscorpus vile, as our masters say—Fair game of turn and turn about for him,Dog, to have handled you so roughly, Saul!Trick of Beelzebub, no manner of doubt.

"But here I loiter, while you burn of courseTo hear what figure you yourself may cutIn my brave patchwork scheme of compromise.I modestly adjoin myself to Saul,And so we two go in together, paired—A little of your logic let intoA little of my guile, and a fine fit."

Shimei had counted for a master strokeOf disagreeable humor sure to tellOn Saul, the piecing of himself on himIn plan, conscious of Saul's antipathy.But Shimei still misapprehended Saul,Lacking the standard in himself wherewithTo measure or assay the sentimentOf such as Saul for such as Shimei.Saul simply and serenely so despisedShimei, that nothing he should do or sayCould change Saul's sentiment to more, or less,Or other, than it constantly abode,The absolute zero of indifference.Half absently, through fits of alien thought,And half with unconfessed concern to knowWhat passed among his fellow-councillorsAbroad, a little curious too withalWondering how any artifice of fraudCould Saul with Shimei combine, to makeSuch twain seem partners of one policy—So minded, Saul gave ear, while Shimei thusThe acrid juices of his humor spilled:

"Here is the method of the joinery.You know you put it strongly that the endOf that pretended gospel which they preach,Would be to overturn the Jewish state,Abolishing Moses, and extinguishingThe glory of the temple, and all that—Really sonorous rhetoric it was,That passage, Saul, and it deserved to win;But who can win against Beelzebub?Logic turned rhetoric is my ideaOf eloquence, and my idea youRealized; but Stephen, without eloquence,Bore off from you the fruit of eloquence:Never mind, Saul, it was Beelzebub.Let rhetoric now go back to logic; youDemonstrated so inexpugnablyThe necessary inference containedIn Stephen's doctrine, hardly were it guile—Though doubtless you will call it such, you haveYour sublimated notions on these points—To say outright that Stephen taught the thingsYou proved implicit in the things he taught;At all events, guile or no guile—in fact,Guileandno guile it is, if closely scanned—Here is the scheme:—We find some blunderheads,Who, primed with method for their blundering,Will misremember and transfer from youTo Stephen what you stated on this point.These worthies then shall roundly testifyBefore our honorable body metTo give the fellow his fair hearing ereHis sentence—said fair hearing not of courseEventually to affect said sentence due—Shall, I say, swear that they distinctly heardStephen set forth that Jesus NazareneWas going to destroy this place and changeThe customs Moses gave us; bring aboutIn brief precisely what, with so much force,You showed would surely happen"—"Shimei"—Saul interrupted Shimei again,Surprised into expression by the shockTo hear himself mixed up in any way,Of indirection even, in fraud like this—"Shimei, I thought that nothing you could sayWould further tempt me into speech to you;But you have broken my bond of self-restraint.Suborning perjury! That well accordsWith what you slanted at in council once,And what I trusted I had then and thereMade clear my scorn of. Shimei, hear—I setMy heel upon this thing and once for allGrind it into the dust.""In figure, of course,"Promptly leered Shimei, interrupting Saul;"The thing goes forward just the same; you setIt under foot—in your rhetorical way;I, in my practical way, set it on foot;No mutual interference, each well pleased.

"But, seriously, Saul, you overworkThe idea of conscience. What is conscience? MereSelf-will assuming virtuous airs. A termCajoles you into making it a pointOf moral obligation to be stiff.Limber up, Saul, and be adjustable.Capacity of taking several pointsOf view at will is good. For instance, now,Probably Stephen may, at various times,Himself have stated quite explicitlyWhat your rhetorical logic showed to beInextricably held as inferenceIn his harangues. Take it so, Saul, if soRender your conscience easier; I myselfHighly enjoy my easy conscience. Still,Nothing could be more natural than that some,Hearers non-critical, you know, should mixWhat you said with what Stephen said, and soQuite honestly swear falsely—to the gainOf truth. And to whose loss? Stephen's, perhaps,But other's, none. So, salve your conscience, Saul—Which somehow you must learn, and soon, to do;Unless you mean to play obstructionist,Instead of coadjutor, in the workYou, with good motive, but with scurvy luck,Set about doing late so lustily.Conscience itself is to be sacrificed,At need, to serve the cause of righteousness.What is it but egregious egotismTo obtrude, forsooth, a point of conscience, whenYou jeopard general interests thereby?One's conscience is a private matter; letYour conscience wince a little, if need be,In order that the public good be served.That is true generosity. 'Let usBe just,' said Nicodemus; good, say I,But in this matter of our consciences,Let us go further and be generous."

As one who turns a stopcock and arrestsA flow of water that need never cease,So Shimei left off speaking, not less fullOf matter than at first that might be speech.With indescribable smirk, and cynic sneerConveyed, sirocco breath of blight to faithIn virtue and in good, he went away,Cheering himself that he had somewhat chilledWithin the breast of that young PhariseeThe ardor of conviction, and of hopeFed by conviction,—but still more that heHad probed and hurt the festering wounds of pride.

Saul's first relief to be alone again,Rid of that nauseous presence, presentlyWas followed by depression and relapseFrom his instinctive tension to resistThe unnerving spell of Shimei's influence.Saul found that in the teeth of his contemptFor Shimei, absolute in measure, nay,By reason of that contempt, he had conceivedShame and chagrin beyond his strength to bear.That Shimei, such as Shimei, should have daredTo visit Saul, and drill and drill his ears,With indefatigable screw of tongueSinking a shaft through which to drench and drownHis soul with spew from out a source so vile—This argued fall indeed for him from whatHe lately was, from what he hoped to be,Far more, in popular repute. The stingThat Shimei purposed subtly to infix,With that malicious irony and tauntRecurrent, the intentional affront,All of it, failed, blunted and turned in pointAgainst the safe impenetrable mailOf Saul's contempt for Shimei. But thatWhich Shimei meant not, nor dreamed, but was,Went through and through Saul's double panoply,Found permeable now, of pride and scorn,And wilted him with self-disparagement.

He marvelled at himself how he had not,At first forthputting of that impudence,Stormed the wretch dumb, with hurricane outburstOf passionate scorn; a quick revulsion then,And Saul was chafing that he had so farGrace of rebuff vouchsafed, and honest heat,To creature lacking natural sense to feelRepudiation. Comfort none he found,No refuge from the persecuting thoughOf his own fall. He tried to brace himselfWith thinking, "If I failed, I failed at leastNot for myself, but God; I strove for God."But, ceaselessly, the image of himself,Humiliated, swam between to blurHis vision of God. He could not cease to seeSaul ever, in the mirror of his mind,And ever Stephen shadowing Saul's fair fame.

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