If thou wilt only silent be. 30
MARY.
May God be merciful to thee
Upon the Judgment Day!
JESUS.
When thirty years shall have gone by,
I at Jerusalem shall die,
By Jewish hands exalted high 35
On the accursed tree,
Then on my right and my left side,
These thieves shall both be crucified,
And Titus thenceforth shall abide
In paradise with me.
Here a great rumor of trumpets and horses, like the noise of a king with his army, and the robbers shall take flight.
VI.
The Slaughter of the Innocents
KING HEROD.
POTZ-TAUSEND! Himmel-sacrament!
Filled am I with great wonderment
At this unwelcome news!
Am I not Herod? Who shall dare
My crown to take, my sceptre bear, 5
As king among the Jews?
Here he shall stride up and down and flourish his sword.
What ho! I fain would drink a can
Of the strong wine of Canaan!
The wine of Helbon bring
I purchased at the Fair of Tyre, 10
As red as blood, as hot as fire,
And fit for any king!
He quaffs great goblets of wine.
Now at the window will I stand,
While in the street the armèd band
The little children slay; 15
The babe just born in Bethlehem
Will surely slaughtered be with them,
Nor live another day!
Here a voice of lamentation shall be heard in the street.
RACHEL.
O wicked king! O cruel speed!
To do this most unrighteous deed! 20
My children all are slain!
HEROD.
Ho seneschal! another cup!
With wine of Sorek fill it up!
I would a bumper drain!
RAHAB.
May maledictions fall and blast 25
Thyself and lineage, to the last
Of all thy kith and kin!
HEROD.
Another goblet! quick! and stir
Pomegranate juice and drops of myrrh
And calamus therein! 30
SOLDIERS, in the street.
Give up thy child into our hands!
It is King Herod who commands
That he should thus be slain!
THE NURSE MEDUSA.
O monstrous men! What have ye done!
It is King Herod’s only son 35
That ye have cleft in twain!
HEROD.
Ah, luckless day! What words of fear
Are these that smite upon my ear
With such a doleful sound!
What torments rack my heart and head! 40
Would I were dead! would I were dead,
And buried in the ground!
He falls down and writhes as though eaten by worms. Hell opens, and SATAN and ASTAROTH come forth, and drag him down.
VII.
Jesus at Play with His Schoolmates
JESUS.
THE SHOWER is over. Let us play,
And make some sparrows out of clay,
Down by the river’s side.
JUDAS.
See, how the stream has overflowed
Its banks, and o’er the meadow road 5
Is spreading far and wide!
They draw water out of the river by channels, and form little pools. JESUS makes twelve sparrows of clay, and the other boys do the same.
JESUS.
Look! look how prettily I make
These little sparrows by the lake
Bend down their necks and drink!
Now will I make them sing and soar 10
So far, they shall return no more
Unto this river’s brink.
JUDAS.
That canst thou not! They are but clay,
They cannot sing, nor fly away
Above the meadow lands! 15
JESUS.
Fly, fly! ye sparrows! you are free!
And while you live, remember me,
Who made you with my hands.
Here JESUS shall clap his hands, and the sparrows shall fly away, chirruping.
JUDAS.
Thou art a sorcerer, I know;
Oft has my mother told me so, 20
I will not play with thee!
He strikes JESUS in the right side.
JESUS.
Ah, Judas! thou hast smote my side,
And when I shall be crucified,
There shall I piercèd be!
Here JOSEPH shall come in and say:
JOSEPH.
Ye wicked boys! why do ye play, 25
And break the holy Sabbath day?
What, think ye, will your mothers say
To see you in such plight!
In such a sweat and such a heat,
With all that mud upon your feet! 30
There ‘s not a beggar in the street
Makes such a sorry sight!
VIII.
The Village School
The RABBI BEN ISRAEL, sitting on a high stool, with a long beard, and a rod in his hand.
RABBI.
I AM the Rabbi Ben Israel,
Throughout this village known full well,
And, as my scholars all will tell,
Learned in things divine;
The Cabala and Talmud hoar 5
Than all the prophets prize I more,
For water is all Bible lore,
But Mishna is strong wine.
My fame extends from West to East,
And always, at the Purim feast, 10
I am as drunk as any beast
That wallows in his sty;
The wine it so elateth me,
That I no difference can see
Between “Accursed Haman be!” 15
And “Blessed be Mordecai!”
Come hither, Judas Iscariot;
Say, if thy lesson thou hast got
From the Rabbinical Book or not.
Why howl the dogs at night? 20
JUDAS.
In the Rabbinical Book, it saith
The dogs howl, when with icy breath
Great Sammael, the Angel of Death,
Takes through the town his flight!
RABBI.
Well, boy! now say, if thou art wise, 25
When the Angel of Death, who is full of eyes,
Comes where a sick man dying lies,
What doth he to the wight?
JUDAS.
He stands beside him, dark and tall,
Holding a sword, from which doth fall 30
Into his mouth a drop of gall,
And so he turneth white.
RABBI.
And now, my Judas, say to me
What the great Voices Four may be,
That quite across the world do flee, 35
And are not heard by men?
JUDAS.
The Voice of the Sun in heaven’s dome,
The Voice of the Murmuring of Rome,
The Voice of a Soul that goeth home,
And the Angel of the Rain! 40
RABBI.
Right are thine answers every one!
Now little Jesus, the carpenter’s son,
Let us see how thy task is done;
Canst thou thy letters say?
JESUS.
Aleph.
RABBI.
What next? Do not stop yet! 45
Go on with all the alphabet.
Come, Aleph, Beth; dost thou forget?
Cock’s soul! thou’dst rather play!
JESUS.
What Aleph means I fain would know,
Before I any farther go! 50
RABBI.
Oh, by Saint Peter! wouldst thou so?
Come hither, boy, to me.
As s
urely as the letter Jod
Once cried aloud, and spake to God,
So surely shalt thou feel this rod, 55
And punished shalt thou be!
Here RABBI BEN ISRAEL shall lift up his rod to strike JESUS, and his right arm shall be paralyzed.
IX.
Crowned with Flowers
JESUS sitting among his playmates crowned with flowers as their King.
BOYS.
WE spread our garments on the ground!
With fragrant flowers thy head is crowned
While like a guard we stand around,
And hail thee as our King!
Thou art the new King of the Jews! 5
Nor let the passers-by refuse
To bring that homage which men use
To majesty to bring.
Here a traveller shall go by, and the boys shall lay hold of his garments and say:
BOYS.
Come hither! and all reverence pay
Unto our monarch, crowned to-day! 10
Then go rejoicing on your way,
In all prosperity!
TRAVELLER.
Hail to the King of Bethlehem.
Who weareth in his diadem
The yellow crocus for the gem 15
Of his authority!
He passes by; and others come in, bearing on a litter a sick child.
BOYS.
Set down the litter and draw near!
The King of Bethlehem is here!
What ails the child, who seems to fear
That we shall do him harm? 20
THE BEARERS.
He climbed up to the robin’s nest,
And out there darted, from his rest,
A serpent with a crimson crest,
And stung him in the arm.
JESUS.
Bring him to me, and let me feel 25
The wounded place; my touch can heal
The sting of serpents, and can steal
The poison from the bite!
He touches the wound, and the boy begins to cry.
Cease to lament! I can foresee
That thou hereafter known shalt be, 30
Among the men who follow me,
As Simon the Canaanite!
Epilogue
IN the after part of the day
Will be represented another play,
Of the Passion of our Blessed Lord,
Beginning directly after Nones!
At the close of which we shall accord, 5
By way of benison and reward,
The sight of a holy Martyr’s bones!
IV.
I. The Road to Hirschau
PRINCE HENRY and ELSIE, with their attendants on horseback.
ELSIE.
ONWARD and onward the highway runs to the distant city, impatiently bearing
Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of hate, of doing and daring!
PRINCE HENRY.
This life of ours is a wild æolian harp of many a joyous strain,
But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail, as of souls in pain.
ELSIE.
Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma 5
Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can comprehend its dark enigma.
PRINCE HENRY.
Man is selfish, and seeketh pleasure with little care of what may betide,
Else why am I travelling here beside thee, a demon that rides by an angel’s side?
ELSIE.
All the hedges are white with dust, and the great dog under the creaking wain
Hangs his head in the lazy heat, while onward the horses toil and strain. 10
PRINCE HENRY.
Now they stop at the wayside inn, and the wagoner laughs with the landlord’s daughter,
While out of the dripping trough the horses distend their leathern sides with water.
ELSIE.
All through life there are wayside inns, where man may refresh his soul with love;
Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed by springs from above.
PRINCE HENRY.
Yonder, where rises the cross of stone, our journey along the highway ends, 15
And over the fields, by a bridle path, down into the broad green valley descends.
ELSIE.
I am not sorry to leave behind the beaten road with its dust and heat;
The air will be sweeter far, and the turf will be softer under our horses’ feet.
They turn down a green lane.
ELSIE.
Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below
Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lightest snow. 20
PRINCE HENRY.
Over our heads a white cascade is gleaming against the distant hill;
We cannot hear it, nor see it move, but it hangs like a banner when winds are still.
ELSIE.
Damp and cool is this deep ravine, and cool the sound of the brook by our side!
What is this castle that rises above us, and lords it over a land so wide?
PRINCE HENRY.
It is the home of the Counts of Calva; well have I known these scenes of old, 25
Well I remember each tower and turret, remember the brooklet, the wood, and the wold.
ELSIE.
Hark! from the little village below us the bells of the church are ringing for rain!
Priests and peasants in long procession come forth and kneel on the arid plain.
PRINCE HENRY.
They have not long to wait, for I see in the south uprising a little cloud,
That before the sun shall be set will cover the sky above us as with a shroud.
They pass on. 30
IV.
II. The Convent of Hirschau in the Black Forest
The Convent cellar. FRIAR CLAUS comes in with a light and a basket of empty flagons.
FRIAR CLAUS.
I ALWAYS enter this sacred place
With a thoughtful, solemn, and reverent pace,
Pausing long enough on each stair
To breathe an ejaculatory prayer,
And a benediction on the vines 5
That produce these various sorts of wines!
For my part, I am well content
That we have got through with the tedious Lent!
Fasting is all very well for those
Who have to contend with invisible foes; 10
But I am quite sure it does not agree
With a quiet, peaceable man like me,
Who am not of that nervous and meagre kind,
That are always distressed in body and mind!
And at times it really does me good 15
To come down among this brotherhood,
Dwelling forever underground,
Silent, contemplative, round and sound;
Each one old, and brown with mould,
But filled to the lips with the ardor of youth, 20
With the latent power and love of truth,
And with virtues fervent and manifold.
I have heard it said, that at Easter-tide
When buds are swelling on every side,
And the sap begins to move in the vine, 25
Then in all cellars, far and wide,
The oldest as well as the newest wine
Begins to stir itself, and ferment,
With a kind of revolt and discontent
At being so long in darkness pent, 30
And fain would burst from its sombre tun
To bask on the hillside in the sun;
As in the bosom of us poor friars,
The tumult of half-subdued desires
For the world that we have left behind 35
Disturbs at times all peace of mind!
And now that we have lived through Lent,
My duty it is, as often before,
To open awhile the prison-door,
&
nbsp; And give these restless spirits vent. 40
Now here is a cask that stands alone,
And has stood a hundred years or more,
Its beard of cobwebs, long and hoar,
Trailing and sweeping along the floor,
Like Barbarossa, who sits in his cave, 45
Taciturn, sombre, sedate, and grave,
Till his beard has grown through the table of stone!
It is of the quick and not of the dead!
In its veins the blood is hot and red,
And a heart still beats in those ribs of oak 50
That time may have tamed, but has not broke!
It comes from Bacharach on the Rhine,
Is one of the three best kinds of wine,
And costs some hundred florins the ohm;
But that I do not consider dear, 55
When I remember that every year
Four butts are sent to the Pope of Rome.
And whenever a goblet thereof I drain,
The old rhyme keeps running in my brain:
At Bacharach on the Rhine, 60
At Hochheim on the Main,
And at Würzburg on the Stein,
Grow the three best kinds of wine!
They are all good wines, and better far
Than those of the Neckar, or those of the Ahr. 65
In particular, Würzburg well may boast
Of its blessed wine of the Holy Ghost,
Which of all wines I like the most.
This I shall draw for the Abbot’s drinking,
Who seems to be much of my way of thinking.
Fills a flagon. 70
Ah! how the streamlet laughs and sings!
What a delicious fragrance springs
From the deep flagon, while it fills,
As of hyacinths and daffodils!
Between this cask and the Abbot’s lips 75
Many have been the sips and slips;
Many have been the draughts of wine,
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 103
