With large prosperity and little joy,Thus the first stage of that 'straight path' foreseenBy him to Rachel, 'traced in blood and tears,'Saul had accomplished, and the night was late;He parted from his men and was alone.Alone and moody, by the westering moon,His face downcast turned absently toward whatLate was his home, home longer not to him,With footstep slow suspended by sad thought—Which had no goal, but ever round and roundOn one fixed centre hopelessly revolved—Saul paced the still streets of Jerusalem,Like a soul seeking rest and finding none.Before the door at length he finds himselfOf his own house forsaken yesterday.For an uncertain absence, but for longAs he supposed, Saul thence that morn had fledIn haste and bitterness. He could not bearTo think of meeting Rachel day by day,And that great gulf impassable betweenHer and himself yawning! he hands imbruedPerhaps in blood of those she counted dearBut he most hateful counted bringing home,Her innocent white hands to touch, and feelThe difference! Therefore he fled because'Rachel,' thought he, 'must bide, and bide we twainCannot.' But now Rachel was gone, and Saul,Alone and lonely, sojourner might beWhere brother and sister late had shared a home.He enters noiselessly, and unperceivedSteals to his chamber; there upon his couchTo restless thought, he, not to rest, lies down.Restless and fruitless, save that, morning yetPearl-white, untinted with that ruddy flushOf color in the east before the sun,Saul rose, and, after joyless orisons,Went to Gamaliel's house, sure him to findAlready on his roof to greet the dawn."In anguish sore and sore perplexityOf spirit, master," Saul said, "lo, I comeTo thee, not knowing whither else to go,For solace, and the solving of my doubt.""Welcome thou comest ever, even or morn,"Gamaliel said; "but what disquiets thee?When in the council last I heard thee speak,Thou wert all firmness, as one wholly clearIn purpose, and thou hadst that glad aspect,Though serious, which befits the mind resolved.Whence, Saul, the change in thee?""Thou knowest," said Saul"How prospered my attempt, ventured uponWithout thy counsel, in that issue joinedWith Stephen.""Yea, my son," Gamaliel said;"But I, meantime, after my counsel givenDissuading thee, had learned myself to feelHow failed the hand of brute authorityAgainst this strange faith of the Nazarene.Thine undertaking I less disapprovedAfter our hearing of the Galilæans.Something perceived in them, or through them felt,Disturbed me with a strange solicitude,Which the ill fortune of thine own assayDid not relieve. But thou, thou still wert clear,Wert thou not, Saul? Thine action did not halt;Promptly in Stephen's stoning thou took'st part.""I acted promptly, that I might be clearIn thought," said Saul; "this, rather than becauseI was so clear. My halting urged me on.Yet now, O master mine, I might perhapsBe clear, but that my coadjutorshipOffends me so, torments me with such doubt.In the right way how can I be, and beIn the same way with Shimei? My soulSickens at him, at all his words and waysSickens, and still he dogs me every step,Clings to me like my shadow, whispers meOver my shoulder, pointing me out my way,Until I hardly can do that which elseFreely I should, because he bids me do it!""Yea, Saul, my son, trust thou thine instinct there,"Gravely Gamaliel said, with slow reserveThat warned how more than he would say was meant;"Our brother Shimei is a dark man,Whose public zeal is edged with private spite;Him well, son Saul, it thee behooves beware.Since when thou scornedst him in those high wordsBefore the council, Shimei hates thee, Saul,And hate like his is sleepless till revenge.Ill for a cause that must be served by him!But some are tools, and others ministers,Of God, Who works His holy will with all!"Unwarned by warning, but in conscience pricked,And following his own tyrannous thought, Saul spoke:"Those infamous false witnesses of his—Say, master, did I on my conscience takeThe guilt of their suborning, when consentI gave to Stephen's death thereby procured?My conscience like a scorpion stings me on,But whether a good conscience before GodIt be, or rather a conscience violated,Which I must quiet by not heeding it,And by confusing it with din of deedsForever doing—this I cannot wellResolve me, and—but, nay, for that were false,I do not wish thou shouldst resolve me it.Forgive me, and farewell! But pray for Saul!"Therewith, and pausing not, like one distraught,Or one goaded, and wildly seeking fastEnough before the goad to fly, which fliesOnly the faster, following, for his speed,And pricks the harder—so Saul broke awayAnd left Gamaliel on his roof aloneAstonished.Swiftly now, yet with a hasteAs of one wishing to leave far behindSome spot abhorred, much more than as of oneEager a goal before him to attain,Say rather as of one insanely fierceSomewhither, anywhither, from himselfPursuing hard himself, to fly, Saul flewBack toward his dwelling. At the door arrived,He well-nigh stumbled—for his hasting feetAgainst some shapeless heap struck that aliveSeemed, for it moved, and from the threshold, whereHe in a kind of ambush crouching lay,Slowly into the semblance of a man,Under Saul's eyes down bent, upgrew—Shimei!'Sin coucheth at the door!' thought Saul; he thoughtHalf of himself, as half of Shimei,For, 'If thou doest not well, thou Saul!' thought he,Then, "Reptile! How beneath my heel should IHis serpent head have bruised!" hissed hotly outBetween his set teeth, and perused the man.Half under breath this, then to him aloud:"What art thou? Imp of hell spawned hither newUp from the pit? Avaunt! I loathe thee hence!""Nay, brother Saul," grinned Shimei, therefore pleasedThus spurned to be, because the spurning wasWith anguish of disgust to him who spurned,Malevolently yet storing reserveOf hatred and revenge therefor, to beAfterward feasted when the time should come,"Nay, brother Saul, you look with eyesight dazedFrom undersleeping, and from rash surpriseAt this encounter. I am Shimei,Your special coadjutor tried and true.I am a little early, I confess—Or late, which shall I call it? early and late—Like moral good and evil, Saul—ofttimesChange places with your point of view—becomeThe one the other, as you look at them."You see I hardly slept myself this night,Thinking of you, and pleasuring my mindWith fancies of the odd coincidencesThat might be happening you at Bethany.I got prompt information how it allFell out, and hastened hither to adviseWith you. Upon your sleep, already muchCut short, I would not thoughtlessly break in,And so I dropped me at your threshold here,To wait a proper hour for seeing you,And yet not let you pass out hence unseen.I must have fallen asleep, and, brother SaulBe sure I was no less surprised than you,When you just now came on me unaware.Ha! ha! How naturally you mistook your friendFor something not so pleasant from the pitVomited suddenly up under your feet!Another might have taken it amissTo be so little courteously greeted,But I—why, give and take, say I, in joke,You have bravely evened up the score between us!""I do not bandy jokes with such as you,Suborner of false witnesses!" gnashed Saul.Saul's look, his tone, had withered any manSave Shimei, who grew blithe in sultry heatsOf human scorn as in his element.So Shimei flourished lustier hearing SaulDespise him with the question further asked:"What is there common between you and me?""Oh! Ah!" sneered Shimei; "I had thought you dazedIn eyesight only, but distempered mindYou show now, taking this high strain with me.'What common 'twixt us?' Yea, yea, very good!'Suborner of false witnesses'—hence base,Shimei, but very, very virtuous, Saul,Who, with much flourish of disdain, his hands,His lily hands, washes, for all to see,Quite white and fair of all complicityWith 'lies,' 'devilish lies,' 'lies damnable,'You know, and so forth, and in due course then,His moral indignation unabated,Takes profit of said lies to make awayWith Stephen, through more weighty argumentIn stones found than conveniently to handCame when he crossed words with that heretic!"The mordant sneer corrosive of such speechAte through the thin mail of Saul's scornful pride,And bit him in his wincing sense of truth.Against these thrusts in no wise could he fence,Having the foothold lost whereon he stoodFirm in the conscience of integrity.Unbidden would those words of Stephen, "PricksTo kick against!" returning come to himIn memory, while ever, with each return,Fiercer waxed Saul's resistance, fiercer woundInfixing in his secret-suffering mind—As should the bullock battle with the goadsBehind him, shrinking flesh on sharpened steel.So now his wild heart Saul pressed sternly upAgainst the cruel points of Shimei's jeer,And suffered them in silence.ShimeiFelt his own triumph, and at feline easeLeisurely played with his proud captive. "Saul,"He added, "you and I are men too wiseTo waste strength here in mutual blame. ForgiveMe that I was so far led on to speakAs if retorting word for word unkind.I should have made allowance for your state,Devoid of that just self-complacencySo needful to a happy health of mind.Now you and I at bottom are such twins,We ought to understand each other well;It is a shame that this has not been so.Here we are one in aim, and unityIn aim—what deeper unity than thatJoins ever man and man? Let us strike handsTogether, since our hearts beat unison."Not less revolted at these words was Saul,More, rather, that he knew how insincereThey were, how hollow, as how void of truth,Spoken in pure malicious irony.The sense of difference his from Shimei,Browbeaten in him, badgered, stunned, ashamed,Could not rejoice in thought, in speech far less,Against that flourished claim of unity.He stood silent, ignobly helpless, whileMaliciously his pastime further tookWith him his captor, who then, sated, said:"Well, Saul, I shall excuse it to a mindIn you disordered through late loss of sleep,That you do not invite me in to sitA little at my ease while I discloseThe thought I had in coming to you now.Nay, nay"—for Saul, broken in self-commandFalse shame to feel, and false self-blame, as foundDefaulting dues of hospitality,Instinctive moved toward making Shimei guest—"Permit me to decline the courtesy.You are tired, you are very tired, and you should rest.Once within, seated, I might stay too long,Bound by the charms of your society."I pray you be not overmuch disturbed,But really you should know it, Saul, the chanceYou fell in with this night at Bethany—I mean your meeting of your sister thereConfessed a bold disciple of the Way—Is likely to engender consequence.It was a noble chance, Saul, from the Lord,Pushed to your hand—would you had used it nobly!Alas, at the extreme pinch, your virtue failed!I can excuse it, while regretting it,I myself, Saul. Not every one, I fear,Is naturally so lenient as I am.My sympathy is facile, but the mostWill say, 'Why did not Saul sendherto prison?'Now what you need is, to forestall such talkBy giving people something else to say.Fill their mouth full with daily fresh reportOf other, and still other, great exploitsAchieved by you in the same line, and thenThey either will forget that one lapse yours,Or cease, from the perversion of a sister,Connived at or colluded with by you,To accuse a taint and pravity of bloodInclining you yourself to heresy."I give myself no end of trouble for you,And I have made discovery of the manYou must not fail to move for as next prize.He is a notable fellow, full of quip,Quaint turn of phrase, and ready repartee,Each trick of tongue to catch the common ear,And mischievous accordingly; for heBoasts everywhere how, having been born blindAnd grown to forty years of age in blindness,He one day met Jesus of Nazareth,When that deceiver spat upon the groundAnd mixed an unguent of the clay, therewithSmearing his sightless balls, and bidding himGo wash them in the pool of Siloam;He went and washed, and came a seeing man."Such is his story, and so plausiblyHe tells it that a wide belief he wins.'Hirani' is the name by which he goes;Name self-assumed since his pretended cure,A kind of label that he boldly thrustsIn people's faces to placard his lie.'He made me see'—he, to wit, Jesus, mind—As were no other 'he' in all the world!Well, this Hirani to be weaver feigns,Mere cover to that other trade he drives—A famous flourishing one with him, they say—Proselyte-making for the Nazarene.Clap him in prison, Saul, let him repeatHis marvel to the unbelieving walls.At present, many of the Way are fledHither and thither through the countryside,But this man tarries to rehearse his tale.So there your plan is, ready-wrought for you;Now, Saul, go sleep upon it, and farewell."Man through malicious mind more miserable,More miserable man from every causeOf inward sorrow save malicious mind,Never were met and parted than when thereShimei found Saul and left him thus that morn.Once more Saul visited his couch in vain;Sleep could he not, could not but round and roundTread the treadmill of painful barren thought,On this fixed only, with resentful will,Notto do that which Shimei pressed him to.So, having eaten, without appetite,He flung forth in the street dispirited—Aimless, nor on the way through hope to aim,Hopeless, nor on the way through aim to hope—Irresolute, deject, energiless,Therefore the destined prey of whatso snareShould sudden first waylay his nerveless foot—Forth in the street flung, at his door to meetAn ambushed messenger of Shimei's,Who from his master gave him written word:"The Sanhedrim to sit this afternoonIn council on the case you will present.All feel the utmost flattering confidenceThat Saul will promptly bring his prisoner in.The bearer of this can guide you to your man."'Himself false witness now become, the wretch!'Thought Saul. 'This buyer of false witnessesHas falsely told my brethren that I putMyself in pledge to do a special task,His bidding, and has got the council calledIn expectation on their part from meThat I will bring them in this man to judge—Death doubtless meant, instead of prison, forhim!The wretch, the perjured wretch, and damnable!Yet for me what escape? AlternativeNone offers. Yea, denounce might I the manEven to his teeth before them all a liar—But to what profit? He could truly sayI listened, not demurring, when he broachedThis his new plan, as I had done beforeConcerning the arrests at BethanyBy him projected, meekly made by me!I should seem caviller, than he more false,And trifler with the ancient majestyPrescriptive of the Sanhedrim.'Saul writhedWith all the frail remainder of his force,Writhed—and submitted. With the guide he went,And the man found whom he, under duressResented, sought. The invisible chains which thenThat captive captor wore, far worse galled himThan those whereof he plained at Bethany.Master more cruel yet the devil can beThan vehement conscience blinded by self-will.Pride driving makes an intimate misery,But a more intimate misery pride driven!At his loom seated—there his handicraft,Late learned by him after sight given him late,Busily plying—Saul's intended prey,With his hands weaving, as the shuttle flew,A fabric of coarse cloth, wove with his tongue,That subtler shuttle in the loom of thought,Discourse simple yet sage, for those to hear,A goodly audience, who had gathered roundHim in his place of labor out-of-doorsUnder an awning stretched that fenced the sun—Drawn thither by the fame of what he told,A strange experience never man's before."Thou art disciple of the Nazarene?"Abruptly so, intruding, Saul inquired.The accent of authority that spokeIn him, the masterful demeanor his,All felt, and of the listeners some, afraid,Withdrew in silence; but the sifted moreWho stayed clouded their aspect, and, with grimMutter in undertone exchanged betweenThem, each with other, asked or answered whoThis was that rudely thus and threateninglyBroke in upon them. Saul! the Sanhedrim!Were dreaded names, but red runs Jewish blood,And hot, and quick, and those affronted menScarce waited for their neighbor seen thus scornedTo answer yea to his stern challenger,Ere they together moved in mass aboutSaul unattended, naked of all armsSave his authority, and, hustling him,Seemed on the verge of using violent handsTo thrust him forth—nay, to Saul's ears there cameThat pregnant word, ready on Jewish tongues,Yet readier hardly than to Jewish handsThe deed, word full of instant menace, "Stones!"Saul knew his danger and his helplessness;But, far from terror, though not void of fear,Blanching not blenching, he a tonic breathDrew, in an air that to another manHad softened all his fibre or dissolved.Vanished that mood of feebleness he brought,And in its place a resolute, alert,Defiant sense of self-sufficing strengthSupported him, nay, buoyed him almost gay,As thus, with bitter words, he taunted them:"Yea, now ye show what lessons ye have learnedOf unresisting meekness at the feetOf this your teacher—thennot to resistWhen ye are certain to be overpowered!But twenty of you to one man are brave!Nay, but one man may twenty of you scorn.Back, there! Stand back! This man my prisoner is.I, Saul, commissioned by the Sanhedrim,Summon and seize him to appear this dayBefore their just tribunal to be judgedAs self-confessed disciple of the Way.Follow me thou! Make way before me there!"The peremptory tone, the audacity,The prompt aggressive movement, with the proud,High, lordly speech disdainful, the assuredSerene assumption of authorityEnforced by personal will as strong as power—These for a moment's space surrounded SaulWith that inviolable immunity,The nameless spell which perfect courage casts;Nay, so far gave him full ascendant thereThat he quite to his man his way had madeAnd on a shoulder laid the arresting hand.But stay! not quelled, suspended only, seemsThe indignant angry humor of the crowd.Scarce has Saul uttered his last scornful wordsAnd turned to front the men about him massed—Not doubting but, with only the drawn swordOf his fixed forward countenance, he shallThis side and that before him cleave a wayWide from amid them forth to pass—uponSuch hinging-point scarce poises Saul, when they,With many-handed violence, seize himAnd, irresistibly uplifting, bearHelpless, headforemost, ignominiously,Whither they will.In vain Hirani cries,By turns rebuking and beseeching them;In vain he follows, warning them bewareTo involve themselves in risk fruitless for him;In vain implores them even for Jesus' sake,Whose name will be dishonored by their deed;Presents himself in vain a prisonerWilling to go with Saul unmanacled;In vain avouches he, in any case,Shall yield his person to the Sanhedrim,Doubtless to suffer but the heavier doomFor what is doing, unless they refrain.Hirani had adjured them by the nameOf Jesus, but those heady men, that name,That mastership, owned not, Jews only still,Still in the changed new spirit all unschooled.So by their own mad motion ever madGrowing, they hurtle Saul along the way—He the while musing, with mind strangely clear,How like to Stephen's lot his own is now!—Till chance unlooked-for their wild turbulence stays.All had been teemed from Shimei's fruitful brain.First, he had mixed the listening crowd aroundThe weaver at that moment with base men,His creatures, who, for hirelings' pay, should stirTheir neighbors up to wreak indignityUpon Saul's person, wounding to his pride,And in the public view disparaging.Then, at the point of need, to succor Saul,Bringing his haughty colleague under debtTo himself, Shimei, for his very life—This was that crafty plotter's next concern.A band accordingly of men-at-arms,Sworn in the service of the Sanhedrim,He had made ready; and these now appearedConfronting that tumultuary crowd.Saul rescued—not without some disarrayAnd soil of rent apparel, hair and beardDishevelled, and disfigured countenance,His person thus disparaged to the eye,Hirani, as ringleader of the rout,Chained and brought forward, while go free, but blamedFor being misled, the others—Shimei thenTo view emerges. He addresses Saul:"Well met! That fellow, with his crew of like,Treated you badly, Saul. You might have prayedTo be delivered into Stephen's handsFrom tender mercies such as theirs! I trustYou have not suffered worse than what I see,Some slight derangement of apparel shown,Your hair and beard less sleek than might beseem,With here and there a scratch scored on your face—Nothing more serious, let me trust? Our menWere at the nick of time in coming up.It was not pure coincidence. You see,Both knowing your mettle and the vicious waysThese sanctimonious ruffians have at times,I had misgivings that you might be rash,And suffer disadvantage at their hands.So, as in like case you would do by me,I, with these faithful servitors of ours,Run to your rescue here, and not too soon!A little later would have been too late.You were well started down the steep incline,Which, very happily, as I learn, you styled'The way of Stephen and all heretics.'Droll, very, with of course its serious side,Queer irony, you know, of will Divine,Supposing they had really stoned you, Saul!Well, well, it turns out better than your fears.You will not, true, and I lament it, makeQuite a triumphal entry with your manBefore the Sanhedrim, leading him in,With air of captain fresh from glorious war,Who brings proud trophy of his single spearRedoubtable; but the main point is ours,The man we want is safe in custody."Thus Shimei with his devilish sneering gleeNettled the heart of Saul and cheered his own.Before the council Shimei stood forth,Instead of Saul, to accuse the prisoner.With plausible glib mendacity, he said:"Not only is this fellow hereticAfter the manner of those Galilæans,But myself saw with mine own eyes just nowHow he the idlers in the street stirred upTo most unseemly act of violenceAgainst our brother Saul, worthy of death,As being aimed at death, unless that IHad ready been at hand with force enoughTo rescue one of our own number thusTo the most imminent brink of stoning brought.Saul, if he would, might show himself to youIn lively witness of the things I say."Hereon to Saul he signed with hand and eye;But Saul arose and calmly, with disdain,Thus spoke: "The man here present prisonerIs, out of his own mouth, disciple provedOf Jesus Nazarene. As such I soughtTo bring him hither before you to be judged.This my attempt, most unexpectedly,A crowd of idlers round about him drawnVacantly listening to discourse from him,Resented; they, resisting, thrust me back—I had ventured single-handed and alone—And, borne to madness, might perhaps have wroughtSome harm to me—I know not; but one thingI know, and that I freely testify,This man, our prisoner, did nought of all,Contrariwise, with all his eloquenceEndeavored to dissuade those violent,Constantly saying and averring he,In any case, should, of his own free will,Give himself up to you—thereby to clearThe Name he sought to honor of reproachFor wild deeds done as in defence of him."A moment, having heard Saul testify,The Sanhedrim sat silent in fixed thought.Then Shimei, ever easily equal foundTo his occasion, when need seemed to himOf whatsoever fraud in word or act,Said that of course from brother Saul was heardNever aught other than he deemed was true;But the fact was, as would by witnessesBe amply proved, that all this culprit's showOf zeal to stay those rioters back was showMerely, dust in the eyes of Saul to cast,Or rather sport to make of him, the preySecure supposed of his, the prisoner's,Malicious machination through the handsOf his confederates, or tools, who knewBetter their master's purposes, his realPurposes, than his feigned dissuasive wordsTo heed, and let his victim go. Saul's stateWas at the moment such, so ill at easeHis mind—why, even his body in that vileDuress was hardly to be called his own—Saul—and without offence would Shimei say it—Might be regarded as not competentOn this particular point to testify.At all events, here were good witnessesWho, from a safer, steadier point of viewThan Saul's, and longer occupied, could tellBoth what the prisoner's wont had been to teach,And what he instigated in this case.With such preamble to prepare their minds,Minds used to guess the drift of Shimei's wish,This arch-artificer of fraud producedAs witnesses the men whom he had lateMixed with Hirani's audience to fomentThat lawlessness. Such serviceable tonguesFailed not to swear, in all, as Shimei wished.Saul, in his secret mind with anguish torn,Gazed at the man forsworn against, maligned,And almost envied him. A look of peaceWas on him like a light of fixéd stars,So constant, and so inaccessibleOf change through jar, through stain, so clear, so fair!He listened to the voices round him loud,As if some softer voice from farther sentMade ever an inner music to his mindCharming him with a melody unheard.He saw the things, the faces, and the forms,About him nigh, as if he looked beyondOr through them, and beheld far, far awayOr whom or what to others was unseen.So when the high-priest, from his middle seatAmong the councillors, accosted him,Asking, "To all these things what sayest thou?"The prisoner, like one absent-minded broughtTo sudden sense of present things, replied:"I hardly understand what 'these things' are,For otherwhither I was drawn in thought.But if it be inquired concerning HimWhom lately they not knowing crucified,Why, this I answer for my testimony:'Let there be light,' said God, and light there was.Almost thus did that Man of Nazareth,Creative, speak for me, and changed my worldOf native darkness to this cheerful sceneAbove, beneath, about me, sudden spread,And sun and moon and stars for me ordained.I praise Him as the Lord of life and light,And Giver of light and life to dead and blind.All glory to His ever-blesséd Name!"The simple ecstasy from which he spoke,Illuminated, and the holy powerOf truth, in witness such, meekly so borne,Wrought even upon the jealous SanhedrimAn influence which they could not resist,And a pang shot to the inmost heart of Saul.A faltering of compunction close on shameMade the high-priest half-tenderly, with toneAs of a father toward a child in fault,Say: "Nay, my son, deceived art thou; of willSurely thou dost not utter blasphemy.If so be demon power had leave from GodTo give thee back one day what demon powerHad erst one day from God had leave to takeAway, thy sight—be glad indeed, but fearTo yield wrongly thy praise to demon powerPermitted; all to God permissive yield.Glory belongs to God alone. My son,Bethink thee now betimes and save thy soul.'Jesus of Nazareth anathema!'Those words repeat for all to hear, and goAcquitted hence of that thy blasphemy."So the high-priest to him, but he replied:"Blinded again I should expect to be,My eyeballs blasted to the roots of sight,Nay, worse, my inner seeing quenched in dark,Forever and forevermore past cure,Were I to speak that Name except to praise.Glory to God and glory to His Son,Forever and forever in the heavens,The heaven of heavens, seated at His right hand!""A bold blasphemer!" so, discordant, shriekedSuddenly Shimei, the spell to breakHe feared those simple, solemn, holy wordsAgain might cast upon the Sanhedrim.The chance for heaven precarious is on earthEver, and now the heavenly chance was lost,Such counter breath unable to withstand.Those half-rapt souls reverted to themselves,And brooked to listen—nay, assent gave they,Even Saul too gave assent wrung out!—when, next,"Stripes for his back!" sharply shrilled Shimei;"Good forty stripes less one may save his soul!He loves his blasphemy, give him his fill,Whet him his appetite, make him blasphemeHis own Lord God, the man of Nazareth.For that thrice damnéd name require from him,At every lash, an imprecation loud,On pain of instant death should one curse fail!"So there with cruel blows was scourged the man,At every blow he crying out aloudJoy that he might thus suffer for that Name,And, baffled, they gnashing their teeth on him."His madness has infected all his flesh,"Screamed Mattathias; "cure there is but one.Destroy his flesh with stones, let his flesh rot!"This also they, beside themselves with rage,Rage rabid from the sight of bloodshed vain,Resolved—resolving with them likewise Saul!Without the gate they thrust their victim forth,And there stoned him calling upon the nameOf Jesus to his last expiring breath.That night, the violated body, leftThere where it fell by those his murderersTo be of ravening beast or bird the prey,Was thence, with reverent rite, by unseen handsBorne to a sepulchre, with spices wraptIn linen pure and fine, and laid awayIn secret, not unwept or unbewailedOf such as loved him for the love he bore,Quenchless by death, to the Belovéd Name.
With large prosperity and little joy,Thus the first stage of that 'straight path' foreseenBy him to Rachel, 'traced in blood and tears,'Saul had accomplished, and the night was late;He parted from his men and was alone.Alone and moody, by the westering moon,His face downcast turned absently toward whatLate was his home, home longer not to him,With footstep slow suspended by sad thought—Which had no goal, but ever round and roundOn one fixed centre hopelessly revolved—Saul paced the still streets of Jerusalem,Like a soul seeking rest and finding none.Before the door at length he finds himselfOf his own house forsaken yesterday.
For an uncertain absence, but for longAs he supposed, Saul thence that morn had fledIn haste and bitterness. He could not bearTo think of meeting Rachel day by day,And that great gulf impassable betweenHer and himself yawning! he hands imbruedPerhaps in blood of those she counted dearBut he most hateful counted bringing home,Her innocent white hands to touch, and feelThe difference! Therefore he fled because'Rachel,' thought he, 'must bide, and bide we twainCannot.' But now Rachel was gone, and Saul,Alone and lonely, sojourner might beWhere brother and sister late had shared a home.He enters noiselessly, and unperceivedSteals to his chamber; there upon his couchTo restless thought, he, not to rest, lies down.Restless and fruitless, save that, morning yetPearl-white, untinted with that ruddy flushOf color in the east before the sun,Saul rose, and, after joyless orisons,Went to Gamaliel's house, sure him to findAlready on his roof to greet the dawn.
"In anguish sore and sore perplexityOf spirit, master," Saul said, "lo, I comeTo thee, not knowing whither else to go,For solace, and the solving of my doubt."
"Welcome thou comest ever, even or morn,"Gamaliel said; "but what disquiets thee?When in the council last I heard thee speak,Thou wert all firmness, as one wholly clearIn purpose, and thou hadst that glad aspect,Though serious, which befits the mind resolved.Whence, Saul, the change in thee?"
"Thou knowest," said Saul"How prospered my attempt, ventured uponWithout thy counsel, in that issue joinedWith Stephen."
"Yea, my son," Gamaliel said;"But I, meantime, after my counsel givenDissuading thee, had learned myself to feelHow failed the hand of brute authorityAgainst this strange faith of the Nazarene.Thine undertaking I less disapprovedAfter our hearing of the Galilæans.Something perceived in them, or through them felt,Disturbed me with a strange solicitude,Which the ill fortune of thine own assayDid not relieve. But thou, thou still wert clear,Wert thou not, Saul? Thine action did not halt;Promptly in Stephen's stoning thou took'st part."
"I acted promptly, that I might be clearIn thought," said Saul; "this, rather than becauseI was so clear. My halting urged me on.Yet now, O master mine, I might perhapsBe clear, but that my coadjutorshipOffends me so, torments me with such doubt.In the right way how can I be, and beIn the same way with Shimei? My soulSickens at him, at all his words and waysSickens, and still he dogs me every step,Clings to me like my shadow, whispers meOver my shoulder, pointing me out my way,Until I hardly can do that which elseFreely I should, because he bids me do it!"
"Yea, Saul, my son, trust thou thine instinct there,"Gravely Gamaliel said, with slow reserveThat warned how more than he would say was meant;"Our brother Shimei is a dark man,Whose public zeal is edged with private spite;Him well, son Saul, it thee behooves beware.Since when thou scornedst him in those high wordsBefore the council, Shimei hates thee, Saul,And hate like his is sleepless till revenge.Ill for a cause that must be served by him!But some are tools, and others ministers,Of God, Who works His holy will with all!"
Unwarned by warning, but in conscience pricked,And following his own tyrannous thought, Saul spoke:"Those infamous false witnesses of his—Say, master, did I on my conscience takeThe guilt of their suborning, when consentI gave to Stephen's death thereby procured?My conscience like a scorpion stings me on,But whether a good conscience before GodIt be, or rather a conscience violated,Which I must quiet by not heeding it,And by confusing it with din of deedsForever doing—this I cannot wellResolve me, and—but, nay, for that were false,I do not wish thou shouldst resolve me it.Forgive me, and farewell! But pray for Saul!"
Therewith, and pausing not, like one distraught,Or one goaded, and wildly seeking fastEnough before the goad to fly, which fliesOnly the faster, following, for his speed,And pricks the harder—so Saul broke awayAnd left Gamaliel on his roof aloneAstonished.Swiftly now, yet with a hasteAs of one wishing to leave far behindSome spot abhorred, much more than as of oneEager a goal before him to attain,Say rather as of one insanely fierceSomewhither, anywhither, from himselfPursuing hard himself, to fly, Saul flewBack toward his dwelling. At the door arrived,He well-nigh stumbled—for his hasting feetAgainst some shapeless heap struck that aliveSeemed, for it moved, and from the threshold, whereHe in a kind of ambush crouching lay,Slowly into the semblance of a man,Under Saul's eyes down bent, upgrew—Shimei!
'Sin coucheth at the door!' thought Saul; he thoughtHalf of himself, as half of Shimei,For, 'If thou doest not well, thou Saul!' thought he,Then, "Reptile! How beneath my heel should IHis serpent head have bruised!" hissed hotly outBetween his set teeth, and perused the man.Half under breath this, then to him aloud:"What art thou? Imp of hell spawned hither newUp from the pit? Avaunt! I loathe thee hence!"
"Nay, brother Saul," grinned Shimei, therefore pleasedThus spurned to be, because the spurning wasWith anguish of disgust to him who spurned,Malevolently yet storing reserveOf hatred and revenge therefor, to beAfterward feasted when the time should come,"Nay, brother Saul, you look with eyesight dazedFrom undersleeping, and from rash surpriseAt this encounter. I am Shimei,Your special coadjutor tried and true.I am a little early, I confess—Or late, which shall I call it? early and late—Like moral good and evil, Saul—ofttimesChange places with your point of view—becomeThe one the other, as you look at them.
"You see I hardly slept myself this night,Thinking of you, and pleasuring my mindWith fancies of the odd coincidencesThat might be happening you at Bethany.I got prompt information how it allFell out, and hastened hither to adviseWith you. Upon your sleep, already muchCut short, I would not thoughtlessly break in,And so I dropped me at your threshold here,To wait a proper hour for seeing you,And yet not let you pass out hence unseen.I must have fallen asleep, and, brother SaulBe sure I was no less surprised than you,When you just now came on me unaware.Ha! ha! How naturally you mistook your friendFor something not so pleasant from the pitVomited suddenly up under your feet!Another might have taken it amissTo be so little courteously greeted,But I—why, give and take, say I, in joke,You have bravely evened up the score between us!"
"I do not bandy jokes with such as you,Suborner of false witnesses!" gnashed Saul.Saul's look, his tone, had withered any manSave Shimei, who grew blithe in sultry heatsOf human scorn as in his element.So Shimei flourished lustier hearing SaulDespise him with the question further asked:"What is there common between you and me?"
"Oh! Ah!" sneered Shimei; "I had thought you dazedIn eyesight only, but distempered mindYou show now, taking this high strain with me.'What common 'twixt us?' Yea, yea, very good!'Suborner of false witnesses'—hence base,Shimei, but very, very virtuous, Saul,Who, with much flourish of disdain, his hands,His lily hands, washes, for all to see,Quite white and fair of all complicityWith 'lies,' 'devilish lies,' 'lies damnable,'You know, and so forth, and in due course then,His moral indignation unabated,Takes profit of said lies to make awayWith Stephen, through more weighty argumentIn stones found than conveniently to handCame when he crossed words with that heretic!"
The mordant sneer corrosive of such speechAte through the thin mail of Saul's scornful pride,And bit him in his wincing sense of truth.Against these thrusts in no wise could he fence,Having the foothold lost whereon he stoodFirm in the conscience of integrity.Unbidden would those words of Stephen, "PricksTo kick against!" returning come to himIn memory, while ever, with each return,Fiercer waxed Saul's resistance, fiercer woundInfixing in his secret-suffering mind—As should the bullock battle with the goadsBehind him, shrinking flesh on sharpened steel.So now his wild heart Saul pressed sternly upAgainst the cruel points of Shimei's jeer,And suffered them in silence.ShimeiFelt his own triumph, and at feline easeLeisurely played with his proud captive. "Saul,"He added, "you and I are men too wiseTo waste strength here in mutual blame. ForgiveMe that I was so far led on to speakAs if retorting word for word unkind.I should have made allowance for your state,Devoid of that just self-complacencySo needful to a happy health of mind.Now you and I at bottom are such twins,We ought to understand each other well;It is a shame that this has not been so.Here we are one in aim, and unityIn aim—what deeper unity than thatJoins ever man and man? Let us strike handsTogether, since our hearts beat unison."
Not less revolted at these words was Saul,More, rather, that he knew how insincereThey were, how hollow, as how void of truth,Spoken in pure malicious irony.The sense of difference his from Shimei,Browbeaten in him, badgered, stunned, ashamed,Could not rejoice in thought, in speech far less,Against that flourished claim of unity.He stood silent, ignobly helpless, whileMaliciously his pastime further tookWith him his captor, who then, sated, said:"Well, Saul, I shall excuse it to a mindIn you disordered through late loss of sleep,That you do not invite me in to sitA little at my ease while I discloseThe thought I had in coming to you now.Nay, nay"—for Saul, broken in self-commandFalse shame to feel, and false self-blame, as foundDefaulting dues of hospitality,Instinctive moved toward making Shimei guest—"Permit me to decline the courtesy.You are tired, you are very tired, and you should rest.Once within, seated, I might stay too long,Bound by the charms of your society.
"I pray you be not overmuch disturbed,But really you should know it, Saul, the chanceYou fell in with this night at Bethany—I mean your meeting of your sister thereConfessed a bold disciple of the Way—Is likely to engender consequence.It was a noble chance, Saul, from the Lord,Pushed to your hand—would you had used it nobly!Alas, at the extreme pinch, your virtue failed!I can excuse it, while regretting it,I myself, Saul. Not every one, I fear,Is naturally so lenient as I am.My sympathy is facile, but the mostWill say, 'Why did not Saul sendherto prison?'Now what you need is, to forestall such talkBy giving people something else to say.Fill their mouth full with daily fresh reportOf other, and still other, great exploitsAchieved by you in the same line, and thenThey either will forget that one lapse yours,Or cease, from the perversion of a sister,Connived at or colluded with by you,To accuse a taint and pravity of bloodInclining you yourself to heresy.
"I give myself no end of trouble for you,And I have made discovery of the manYou must not fail to move for as next prize.He is a notable fellow, full of quip,Quaint turn of phrase, and ready repartee,Each trick of tongue to catch the common ear,And mischievous accordingly; for heBoasts everywhere how, having been born blindAnd grown to forty years of age in blindness,He one day met Jesus of Nazareth,When that deceiver spat upon the groundAnd mixed an unguent of the clay, therewithSmearing his sightless balls, and bidding himGo wash them in the pool of Siloam;He went and washed, and came a seeing man.
"Such is his story, and so plausiblyHe tells it that a wide belief he wins.'Hirani' is the name by which he goes;Name self-assumed since his pretended cure,A kind of label that he boldly thrustsIn people's faces to placard his lie.'He made me see'—he, to wit, Jesus, mind—As were no other 'he' in all the world!Well, this Hirani to be weaver feigns,Mere cover to that other trade he drives—A famous flourishing one with him, they say—Proselyte-making for the Nazarene.Clap him in prison, Saul, let him repeatHis marvel to the unbelieving walls.At present, many of the Way are fledHither and thither through the countryside,But this man tarries to rehearse his tale.So there your plan is, ready-wrought for you;Now, Saul, go sleep upon it, and farewell."
Man through malicious mind more miserable,More miserable man from every causeOf inward sorrow save malicious mind,Never were met and parted than when thereShimei found Saul and left him thus that morn.Once more Saul visited his couch in vain;Sleep could he not, could not but round and roundTread the treadmill of painful barren thought,On this fixed only, with resentful will,Notto do that which Shimei pressed him to.So, having eaten, without appetite,He flung forth in the street dispirited—Aimless, nor on the way through hope to aim,Hopeless, nor on the way through aim to hope—Irresolute, deject, energiless,Therefore the destined prey of whatso snareShould sudden first waylay his nerveless foot—Forth in the street flung, at his door to meetAn ambushed messenger of Shimei's,Who from his master gave him written word:"The Sanhedrim to sit this afternoonIn council on the case you will present.All feel the utmost flattering confidenceThat Saul will promptly bring his prisoner in.The bearer of this can guide you to your man."
'Himself false witness now become, the wretch!'Thought Saul. 'This buyer of false witnessesHas falsely told my brethren that I putMyself in pledge to do a special task,His bidding, and has got the council calledIn expectation on their part from meThat I will bring them in this man to judge—Death doubtless meant, instead of prison, forhim!The wretch, the perjured wretch, and damnable!Yet for me what escape? AlternativeNone offers. Yea, denounce might I the manEven to his teeth before them all a liar—But to what profit? He could truly sayI listened, not demurring, when he broachedThis his new plan, as I had done beforeConcerning the arrests at BethanyBy him projected, meekly made by me!I should seem caviller, than he more false,And trifler with the ancient majestyPrescriptive of the Sanhedrim.'Saul writhedWith all the frail remainder of his force,Writhed—and submitted. With the guide he went,And the man found whom he, under duressResented, sought. The invisible chains which thenThat captive captor wore, far worse galled himThan those whereof he plained at Bethany.Master more cruel yet the devil can beThan vehement conscience blinded by self-will.Pride driving makes an intimate misery,But a more intimate misery pride driven!
At his loom seated—there his handicraft,Late learned by him after sight given him late,Busily plying—Saul's intended prey,With his hands weaving, as the shuttle flew,A fabric of coarse cloth, wove with his tongue,That subtler shuttle in the loom of thought,Discourse simple yet sage, for those to hear,A goodly audience, who had gathered roundHim in his place of labor out-of-doorsUnder an awning stretched that fenced the sun—Drawn thither by the fame of what he told,A strange experience never man's before.
"Thou art disciple of the Nazarene?"Abruptly so, intruding, Saul inquired.The accent of authority that spokeIn him, the masterful demeanor his,All felt, and of the listeners some, afraid,Withdrew in silence; but the sifted moreWho stayed clouded their aspect, and, with grimMutter in undertone exchanged betweenThem, each with other, asked or answered whoThis was that rudely thus and threateninglyBroke in upon them. Saul! the Sanhedrim!Were dreaded names, but red runs Jewish blood,And hot, and quick, and those affronted menScarce waited for their neighbor seen thus scornedTo answer yea to his stern challenger,Ere they together moved in mass aboutSaul unattended, naked of all armsSave his authority, and, hustling him,Seemed on the verge of using violent handsTo thrust him forth—nay, to Saul's ears there cameThat pregnant word, ready on Jewish tongues,Yet readier hardly than to Jewish handsThe deed, word full of instant menace, "Stones!"
Saul knew his danger and his helplessness;But, far from terror, though not void of fear,Blanching not blenching, he a tonic breathDrew, in an air that to another manHad softened all his fibre or dissolved.Vanished that mood of feebleness he brought,And in its place a resolute, alert,Defiant sense of self-sufficing strengthSupported him, nay, buoyed him almost gay,As thus, with bitter words, he taunted them:"Yea, now ye show what lessons ye have learnedOf unresisting meekness at the feetOf this your teacher—thennot to resistWhen ye are certain to be overpowered!But twenty of you to one man are brave!Nay, but one man may twenty of you scorn.Back, there! Stand back! This man my prisoner is.I, Saul, commissioned by the Sanhedrim,Summon and seize him to appear this dayBefore their just tribunal to be judgedAs self-confessed disciple of the Way.Follow me thou! Make way before me there!"
The peremptory tone, the audacity,The prompt aggressive movement, with the proud,High, lordly speech disdainful, the assuredSerene assumption of authorityEnforced by personal will as strong as power—These for a moment's space surrounded SaulWith that inviolable immunity,The nameless spell which perfect courage casts;Nay, so far gave him full ascendant thereThat he quite to his man his way had madeAnd on a shoulder laid the arresting hand.But stay! not quelled, suspended only, seemsThe indignant angry humor of the crowd.Scarce has Saul uttered his last scornful wordsAnd turned to front the men about him massed—Not doubting but, with only the drawn swordOf his fixed forward countenance, he shallThis side and that before him cleave a wayWide from amid them forth to pass—uponSuch hinging-point scarce poises Saul, when they,With many-handed violence, seize himAnd, irresistibly uplifting, bearHelpless, headforemost, ignominiously,Whither they will.
In vain Hirani cries,By turns rebuking and beseeching them;In vain he follows, warning them bewareTo involve themselves in risk fruitless for him;In vain implores them even for Jesus' sake,Whose name will be dishonored by their deed;Presents himself in vain a prisonerWilling to go with Saul unmanacled;In vain avouches he, in any case,Shall yield his person to the Sanhedrim,Doubtless to suffer but the heavier doomFor what is doing, unless they refrain.Hirani had adjured them by the nameOf Jesus, but those heady men, that name,That mastership, owned not, Jews only still,Still in the changed new spirit all unschooled.So by their own mad motion ever madGrowing, they hurtle Saul along the way—He the while musing, with mind strangely clear,How like to Stephen's lot his own is now!—Till chance unlooked-for their wild turbulence stays.
All had been teemed from Shimei's fruitful brain.First, he had mixed the listening crowd aroundThe weaver at that moment with base men,His creatures, who, for hirelings' pay, should stirTheir neighbors up to wreak indignityUpon Saul's person, wounding to his pride,And in the public view disparaging.Then, at the point of need, to succor Saul,Bringing his haughty colleague under debtTo himself, Shimei, for his very life—This was that crafty plotter's next concern.A band accordingly of men-at-arms,Sworn in the service of the Sanhedrim,He had made ready; and these now appearedConfronting that tumultuary crowd.Saul rescued—not without some disarrayAnd soil of rent apparel, hair and beardDishevelled, and disfigured countenance,His person thus disparaged to the eye,Hirani, as ringleader of the rout,Chained and brought forward, while go free, but blamedFor being misled, the others—Shimei thenTo view emerges. He addresses Saul:"Well met! That fellow, with his crew of like,Treated you badly, Saul. You might have prayedTo be delivered into Stephen's handsFrom tender mercies such as theirs! I trustYou have not suffered worse than what I see,Some slight derangement of apparel shown,Your hair and beard less sleek than might beseem,With here and there a scratch scored on your face—Nothing more serious, let me trust? Our menWere at the nick of time in coming up.It was not pure coincidence. You see,Both knowing your mettle and the vicious waysThese sanctimonious ruffians have at times,I had misgivings that you might be rash,And suffer disadvantage at their hands.So, as in like case you would do by me,I, with these faithful servitors of ours,Run to your rescue here, and not too soon!A little later would have been too late.You were well started down the steep incline,Which, very happily, as I learn, you styled'The way of Stephen and all heretics.'Droll, very, with of course its serious side,Queer irony, you know, of will Divine,Supposing they had really stoned you, Saul!Well, well, it turns out better than your fears.You will not, true, and I lament it, makeQuite a triumphal entry with your manBefore the Sanhedrim, leading him in,With air of captain fresh from glorious war,Who brings proud trophy of his single spearRedoubtable; but the main point is ours,The man we want is safe in custody."
Thus Shimei with his devilish sneering gleeNettled the heart of Saul and cheered his own.
Before the council Shimei stood forth,Instead of Saul, to accuse the prisoner.With plausible glib mendacity, he said:"Not only is this fellow hereticAfter the manner of those Galilæans,But myself saw with mine own eyes just nowHow he the idlers in the street stirred upTo most unseemly act of violenceAgainst our brother Saul, worthy of death,As being aimed at death, unless that IHad ready been at hand with force enoughTo rescue one of our own number thusTo the most imminent brink of stoning brought.Saul, if he would, might show himself to youIn lively witness of the things I say."
Hereon to Saul he signed with hand and eye;But Saul arose and calmly, with disdain,Thus spoke: "The man here present prisonerIs, out of his own mouth, disciple provedOf Jesus Nazarene. As such I soughtTo bring him hither before you to be judged.This my attempt, most unexpectedly,A crowd of idlers round about him drawnVacantly listening to discourse from him,Resented; they, resisting, thrust me back—I had ventured single-handed and alone—And, borne to madness, might perhaps have wroughtSome harm to me—I know not; but one thingI know, and that I freely testify,This man, our prisoner, did nought of all,Contrariwise, with all his eloquenceEndeavored to dissuade those violent,Constantly saying and averring he,In any case, should, of his own free will,Give himself up to you—thereby to clearThe Name he sought to honor of reproachFor wild deeds done as in defence of him."
A moment, having heard Saul testify,The Sanhedrim sat silent in fixed thought.Then Shimei, ever easily equal foundTo his occasion, when need seemed to himOf whatsoever fraud in word or act,Said that of course from brother Saul was heardNever aught other than he deemed was true;But the fact was, as would by witnessesBe amply proved, that all this culprit's showOf zeal to stay those rioters back was showMerely, dust in the eyes of Saul to cast,Or rather sport to make of him, the preySecure supposed of his, the prisoner's,Malicious machination through the handsOf his confederates, or tools, who knewBetter their master's purposes, his realPurposes, than his feigned dissuasive wordsTo heed, and let his victim go. Saul's stateWas at the moment such, so ill at easeHis mind—why, even his body in that vileDuress was hardly to be called his own—Saul—and without offence would Shimei say it—Might be regarded as not competentOn this particular point to testify.At all events, here were good witnessesWho, from a safer, steadier point of viewThan Saul's, and longer occupied, could tellBoth what the prisoner's wont had been to teach,And what he instigated in this case.
With such preamble to prepare their minds,Minds used to guess the drift of Shimei's wish,This arch-artificer of fraud producedAs witnesses the men whom he had lateMixed with Hirani's audience to fomentThat lawlessness. Such serviceable tonguesFailed not to swear, in all, as Shimei wished.
Saul, in his secret mind with anguish torn,Gazed at the man forsworn against, maligned,And almost envied him. A look of peaceWas on him like a light of fixéd stars,So constant, and so inaccessibleOf change through jar, through stain, so clear, so fair!He listened to the voices round him loud,As if some softer voice from farther sentMade ever an inner music to his mindCharming him with a melody unheard.He saw the things, the faces, and the forms,About him nigh, as if he looked beyondOr through them, and beheld far, far awayOr whom or what to others was unseen.
So when the high-priest, from his middle seatAmong the councillors, accosted him,Asking, "To all these things what sayest thou?"The prisoner, like one absent-minded broughtTo sudden sense of present things, replied:"I hardly understand what 'these things' are,For otherwhither I was drawn in thought.But if it be inquired concerning HimWhom lately they not knowing crucified,Why, this I answer for my testimony:'Let there be light,' said God, and light there was.Almost thus did that Man of Nazareth,Creative, speak for me, and changed my worldOf native darkness to this cheerful sceneAbove, beneath, about me, sudden spread,And sun and moon and stars for me ordained.I praise Him as the Lord of life and light,And Giver of light and life to dead and blind.All glory to His ever-blesséd Name!"
The simple ecstasy from which he spoke,Illuminated, and the holy powerOf truth, in witness such, meekly so borne,Wrought even upon the jealous SanhedrimAn influence which they could not resist,And a pang shot to the inmost heart of Saul.A faltering of compunction close on shameMade the high-priest half-tenderly, with toneAs of a father toward a child in fault,Say: "Nay, my son, deceived art thou; of willSurely thou dost not utter blasphemy.If so be demon power had leave from GodTo give thee back one day what demon powerHad erst one day from God had leave to takeAway, thy sight—be glad indeed, but fearTo yield wrongly thy praise to demon powerPermitted; all to God permissive yield.Glory belongs to God alone. My son,Bethink thee now betimes and save thy soul.'Jesus of Nazareth anathema!'Those words repeat for all to hear, and goAcquitted hence of that thy blasphemy."
So the high-priest to him, but he replied:"Blinded again I should expect to be,My eyeballs blasted to the roots of sight,Nay, worse, my inner seeing quenched in dark,Forever and forevermore past cure,Were I to speak that Name except to praise.Glory to God and glory to His Son,Forever and forever in the heavens,The heaven of heavens, seated at His right hand!"
"A bold blasphemer!" so, discordant, shriekedSuddenly Shimei, the spell to breakHe feared those simple, solemn, holy wordsAgain might cast upon the Sanhedrim.
The chance for heaven precarious is on earthEver, and now the heavenly chance was lost,Such counter breath unable to withstand.Those half-rapt souls reverted to themselves,And brooked to listen—nay, assent gave they,Even Saul too gave assent wrung out!—when, next,"Stripes for his back!" sharply shrilled Shimei;"Good forty stripes less one may save his soul!He loves his blasphemy, give him his fill,Whet him his appetite, make him blasphemeHis own Lord God, the man of Nazareth.For that thrice damnéd name require from him,At every lash, an imprecation loud,On pain of instant death should one curse fail!"
So there with cruel blows was scourged the man,At every blow he crying out aloudJoy that he might thus suffer for that Name,And, baffled, they gnashing their teeth on him."His madness has infected all his flesh,"Screamed Mattathias; "cure there is but one.Destroy his flesh with stones, let his flesh rot!"
This also they, beside themselves with rage,Rage rabid from the sight of bloodshed vain,Resolved—resolving with them likewise Saul!Without the gate they thrust their victim forth,And there stoned him calling upon the nameOf Jesus to his last expiring breath.
That night, the violated body, leftThere where it fell by those his murderersTo be of ravening beast or bird the prey,Was thence, with reverent rite, by unseen handsBorne to a sepulchre, with spices wraptIn linen pure and fine, and laid awayIn secret, not unwept or unbewailedOf such as loved him for the love he bore,Quenchless by death, to the Belovéd Name.
Again deeply distressed in heart, Saul at set of sun withdraws to the top of Olivet for solitary thought. There falling asleep, after pensive soliloquy, he dreams that Shimei has followed him thither, and that he now pours a characteristic strain of sneer and instigation into his ear. This rouses him, and he goes moodily home. After a long, deep slumber there, he resolves on undertaking what he dreamed that Shimei proposed, namely, the arrest of the apostles. His men fail him at the pinch, and Saul bitterly upbraids them, declaring strongly that their renegade behavior only determines him the more sternly to root utterly out the pestilent Galilæan heresy, at whatever cost of exertion and blood and tears.