Chapter XII: Prologue (2)

_Prince Henry._ Thy words fall from thy lips
Like roses from the lips of Angelo: and angels
Might stoop to pick them up!

_Elsie._ Will you not promise?

_Prince Henry._ If ever we depart upon this journey,
So long to one or both of us, I promise.

_Elsie._ Shall we not go, then? Have you lifted me
Into the air, only to hurl me back
Wounded upon the ground? and offered me
The waters of eternal life, to bid me
Drink the polluted puddles of this world?

_Prince Henry._ O Elsie! what a lesson thou dost teach me!
The life which is, and that which is to come,
Suspended hang in such nice equipoise,
A breath disturbs the balance; and that scale
In which we throw our hearts preponderates,
And the other, like an empty one, flies up
And is accounted vanity and air!
To me the thought of death is terrible,
Having such hold on life. To thee it is not
So much even as the lifting of a latch;
Only a step into the open air
Out of a tent already luminous
With light that shines through its transparent walls.
O pure in heart! from thy sweet dust shall grow
Lilies, upon whose petals will be written
“Ave Maria” in characters of gold!

III.

_A street in Strasburg. Night._ PRINCE HENRY _wandering alone, wrapped in a cloak_.

_Prince Henry._ Still is the night. The sound of feet
Has died away from the empty street;
And like an artisan, bending down
His head on his anvil, the dark town
Sleeps, with a slumber deep and sweet.
Sleepless and restless, I alone,
In the dusk and damp of these walls of stone,
Wander and weep in my remorse!

_Crier of the Dead_ (_ringing a bell_).

Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!

_Prince Henry._ Hark! with what accents loud and hoarse
This warder on the walls of death
Sends forth the challenge of his breath!
I see the dead that sleep in the grave!
They rise up, and their garments wave,
Dimly and spectral, as they rise
With the light of another world in their eyes!

_Crier of the Dead._

Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!

_Prince Henry._ Why for the dead, who are at rest?
Pray for the living, in whose breast
The struggle between right and wrong
Is raging terrible and strong,
As when good angels war with devils!
This is the Master of the Revels,
Who, at Life’s flowing feast, proposes
The health of absent friends, and pledges,
Not in bright goblets crowned with roses,
And tinkling as we touch their edges,
But with his dismal, tinkling bell,
That mocks and mimics their funeral knell!

_Crier of the Dead._

Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!

_Prince Henry._ Wake not, belovèd! be thy sleep
Silent as night is, and as deep!
There walks a sentinel at thy gate
Whose heart is heavy and desolate,
And the heavings of whose bosom number
The respirations of thy slumber,
As if some strange, mysterious fate
Had linked two hearts in one, and mine
Went madly wheeling about thine,
Only with wider and wilder sweep!

_Crier of the Dead_ (_at a distance_).

Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!

_Prince Henry._ Lo! with what depth of blackness thrown
Against the clouds, far up the skies
The walls of the cathedral rise,
Like a mysterious grove of stone,
With fitful lights and shadows blending,
As from behind, the moon, ascending,
Lights its dim isles and paths unknown!
The wind is rising; but the boughs
Rise not and fall not with the wind
That through their foliage sobs and soughs;
Only the cloudy rack behind,
Drifting onward, wild and ragged,
Gives to each spire and buttress jagged
A seeming motion undefined.
Below on the square, an armed knight,
Still as a statue and as white,
Sits on his steed, and the moonbeams quiver
Upon the points of his armour bright
As on the ripples of a river.
He lifts the visor from his cheek,
And beckons, and makes as he would speak.

_Walter_ (_the Minnesinger_). Friend! can you tell me
where alight
Thuringia’s horsemen for the night?
For I have lingered in the rear,
And wander vainly up and down.

_Prince Henry._ I am a stranger in the town,
As thou art; but the voice I hear
Is not a stranger to mine ear.
Thou art Walter of the Vogelweid!

_Walter._ Thou hast guessed rightly, and thy name
Is Henry of Hoheneck!

_Prince Henry._ Ay, the same.

_Walter_ (_embracing him_). Come closer, closer to
my side!
What brings thee hither? What potent charm
Has drawn thee from thy German farm
Into the old Alsatian city?

_Prince Henry._ A tale of wonder and of pity!
A wretched man, almost by stealth
Dragging my body to Salern,
In the vain hope and search for health,
And destined never to return.
Already thou hast heard the rest.
But what brings thee, thus armed and dight
In the equipments of a knight?

_Walter._ Dost thou not see upon my breast
The cross of the Crusaders shine?
My pathway leads to Palestine.

_Prince Henry._ Ah, would that way were also mine.
O noble poet! thou whose heart
Is like a nest of singing-birds
Rocked on the topmost bough of life.
Wilt thou, too, from our sky depart,
And in the clangour of the strife
Mingle the music of thy words?

_Walter._ My hopes are high, my heart is proud,
And like a trumpet long and loud,
Thither my thoughts all clang and ring!
My life is in my hand, and lo!
I grasp and bend it as a bow,
And shoot forth from its trembling string
An arrow, that shall be, perchance,
Like the arrow of the Israelite king
Shot from the window toward the east,
That of the Lord’s deliverance!

_Prince Henry._ My life, alas! is what thou seest.
O enviable fate! to be
Strong, beautiful, and armed like thee
With lyre and sword, with song and steel;
A hand to smite, a heart to feel!
Thy heart, thy hand, thy lyre, thy sword,
Thou givest all unto thy Lord;
While I, so mean and abject grown,
Am thinking of myself alone.

_Walter._ Be patient: Time will reinstate
Thy health and fortunes.

_Prince Henry._ ’Tis too late!
I cannot strive against my fate!

_Walter._ Come with me; for my steed is weary;
Our journey has been long and dreary,
And, dreaming of his stall, he dints
With his impatient hoofs the flints.

_Prince Henry_ (_aside_). I am ashamed, in my
disgrace,
To look into that noble face!
To-morrow, Walter, let it be.

_Walter._ To-morrow, at the dawn of day,
I shall again be on my way.
Come with me to the hostelry,
For I have many things to say.
Our journey into Italy
Perchance together we may make;
Wilt thou not do it for my sake?

_Prince Henry._ A sick man’s pace would but impede
Thine eager and impatient speed.
Besides, my pathway leads me round
To Hirschau, in the forest’s bound,
Where I assemble man and steed,
And all things for my journey’s need.

[_They go out._]

_Lucifer_ (_flying over the city_). Sleep, sleep,
O city! till the light
Wakes you to sin and crime again,
Whilst on your dreams, like dismal rain,
I scatter downward through the night
My maledictions dark and deep.
I have more martyrs in your walls
Than God has; and they cannot sleep;
They are my bondsmen and my thralls;
Their wretched lives are full of pain,
Wild agonies of nerve and brain;
And every heart-beat, every breath,
Is a convulsion worse than death!
Sleep, sleep, O city! though within
The circuit of your walls there lies
No habitation free from sin,
And all its nameless misery;
The aching heart, the aching head,
Grief for the living and the dead,
And foul corruption of the time,
Disease, distress, and want, and woe,
And crimes, and passions that may grow
Until they ripen into crime!

_Square in front of the Cathedral. Easter Sunday._ FRIAR CUTHBERT _preaching to the crowd from pulpit in the open air_. PRINCE HENRY _and_ ELSIE _crossing the square_.

_Prince Henry._ This is the day when from the dead
Our Lord arose; and everywhere,
Out of their darkness and despair,
Triumphant over fears and foes,
The hearts of his disciples rose,
When to the women, standing near,
The Angel in shining vesture said,
“The Lord is risen; he is not here!”
And, mindful that the day is come,
On all the hearths in Christendom
The fires are quenched, to be again
Rekindled from the sun, that high
Is dancing in the cloudless sky.
The churches are all decked with flowers,
The salutations among men
Are but the Angel’s words divine,
“Christ is arisen!” and the bells
Catch the glad murmur, as it swells,
And chant together in their towers.
All hearts are glad; and free from care
The faces of the people shine.
See what a crowd is in the square,
Gaily and gallantly arrayed!

_Elsie._ Let us go back; I am afraid!

_Prince Henry._ Nay, let us mount the church-steps here,
Under the doorway’s sacred shadow;
We can see all things, and be freer
From the crowd that madly heaves and presses!

_Elsie._ What a gay pageant! what bright dresses!
It looks like a flower-besprinkled meadow.
What is that yonder on the square?

_Prince Henry._ A pulpit in the open air,
And a Friar, who is preaching to the crowd
In a voice so deep and clear and loud,
That, if we listen, and give heed,
His lowest words will reach the ear.

_Friar Cuthbert_ (_gesticulating and cracking a
postilion’s whip_).

What ho! good people! do you not hear?
Dashing along at the top of his speed,
Booted and spurred, on his jaded steed,
A courier comes with words of cheer.
Courier! what is the news, I pray?
“Christ is arisen!” Whence come you? “From Court.”
Then I do not believe it; you say it in sport.

[_Cracks his whip again._]

Ah, here comes another, riding this way;
We soon shall know what he has to say.
Courier! what are the tidings to-day?
“Christ is arisen!” Whence come you? “From town.”
Then I do not believe it; away with you, clown.

[_Cracks his whip more violently._]

And here comes a third, who is spurring amain.
What news do you bring, with your loose-hanging rein,
Your spurs wet with blood, and your bridle with foam?
“Christ is arisen!” Whence come you? “From Rome.”
Ah, now I believe. He is risen, indeed.
Ride on with the news, at the top of your speed!

[_Great applause among the Crowd._]

To come back to my text![36] When the news was first spread
That Christ was arisen indeed from the dead,
Very great was the joy of the angels in heaven;
And as great the dispute as to who should carry
The tidings thereof to the Virgin Mary,
Pierced to the heart with sorrows seven.
Old father Adam was first to propose,
As being the author of all our woes;
But he was refused, for fear, said they,
He would stop to eat apples on the way!
Abel came next, but petitioned in vain,
Because he might meet with his brother Cain!
Noah, too, was refused, lest his weakness for wine
Should delay him at every tavern-sign;
And John the Baptist could not get a vote,
On account of his old-fashioned, camel’s-hair coat;
And the Penitent Thief, who died on the cross,
Was reminded that all his bones were broken!
Till at last, when each in turn had spoken,
The company being still at a loss,
The Angel, who rolled away the stone,
Was sent to the sepulchre, all alone,
And filled with glory that gloomy prison,
And said to the Virgin, “The Lord is arisen!”

[36] See Appendix.

[_The Cathedral bells ring._]

But hark! the bells are beginning to chime;
And I feel that I am growing hoarse.
I will put an end to my discourse,
And leave the rest for some other time.
For the bells themselves are the best of preachers;
Their brazen lips are learned teachers,
From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,
Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
Shriller than trumpets under the Law,
Now a sermon, and now a prayer.
The clangorous hammer is the tongue,
This way, that way beaten and swung,
That from Mouth of Brass, as from Mouth of Gold,
May be taught the Testaments, New and Old.
And above it the great cross-beam of wood
Representeth the Holy Rood,
Upon which, like the bell, our hopes are hung.
And the wheel wherewith it is swayed and rung
Is the mind of man, that round and round
Sways and maketh the tongue to sound!
And the rope, with its twisted cordage three,
Denoteth the Scriptural Trinity
Of Morals, and Symbols, and History;
And the upward and downward motions show
That we touch upon matters high and low;
And the constant change and transmutation
Of action and of contemplation,
Downward, the Scripture brought from on high,
Upward, exalted again to the sky;
Downward, the literal interpretation,
Upward, the Vision and Mystery!

And now, my hearers, to make an end,
I have only one word more to say;
In the church, in honour of Easter Day,
Will be represented a Miracle-Play;
And I hope you will all have the grace to attend.
Christ bring us at last to his felicity!
Pax vobiscum! et Benedicite!

_In the Cathedral._

CHANT.

Kyrie Eleison!
Christe Eleison!

_Elsie._ I am at home here in my Father’s house!
These paintings of the Saints upon the walls
Have all familiar and benignant faces.

_Prince Henry._ The portraits of the family of God!
Thine own hereafter shall be placed among them.

_Elsie._ How very grand it is and wonderful!
Never have I beheld a church so splendid!
Such columns, and such arches, and such windows,
So many tombs and statues in the chapels,
And under them so many confessionals.
They must be for the rich. I should not like
To tell my sins in such a church as this.
Who built it?

_Prince Henry._ A great master of his craft,
Erwin von Steinbach; but not he alone,
For many generations laboured with him,
Children that came to see these Saints in stone,
As day by day out of the blocks they rose,
Grew old and died, and still the work went on,
And on, and on, and is not yet completed.
The generation that succeeds our own
Perhaps may finish it. The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and their lives
Were builded, with his own, into the walls,
As offerings unto God. You see that statue
Fixing its joyous, but deep-wrinkled eyes
Upon the Pillar of the Angels yonder.
That is the image of the master, carved
By the fair hand of his own child, Sabina.

_Elsie._ How beautiful is the column that he looks at!

_Prince Henry._ That, too, she sculptured. At the base of it
Stand the Evangelists; above their heads
Four Angels blowing upon marble trumpets,
And over them the blessed Christ, surrounded
By his attendant ministers, upholding
The instruments of his passion.

_Elsie._ O my Lord!
Would I could leave behind me upon earth
Some monument to thy glory, such as this!

_Prince Henry._ A greater monument than this thou leavest
In thine own life, all purity and love!
See, too, the Rose, above the western portal
Resplendent with a thousand gorgeous colours,
The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!

_Elsie._ And, in the gallery, the long line of statues,
Christ with his twelve Apostles watching us.

[_A_ BISHOP _in armour, booted and spurred, passes with his train_.]

_Prince Henry._ But come away; we have not time to look.
The crowd already fills the church, and yonder,
Upon a stage, a herald with a trumpet,
Clad like the Angel Gabriel, proclaims
The Mystery that will now be represented.

_The Nativity._

A MIRACLE-PLAY.[37]

[37] A singular chapter in the history of the Middle Ages is that which gives account of the early Christian Drama, the Mysteries, Moralities, and Miracle-Plays, which were at first performed in churches, and afterwards in the streets, on fixed or moveable stages. For the most part the Mysteries were founded on the historic portions of the Old and New Testaments, and the Miracle-Plays on the lives of saints; a distinction not always observed, however, for in Mr. Wright’s _Early Mysteries and other Latin Poems of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries_, the Resurrection of Lazarus is called a Miracle, and not a Mystery. The Moralities were plays, in which the Virtues and Vices were personified. See Appendix.

INTROITUS.

_Præco._ Come, good people, all and each
Come and listen to our speech!
In your presence here I stand,
With a trumpet in my hand,
To announce the Easter Play,
Which we represent to-day.
First of all, we shall rehearse,
In our action and our verse,
The Nativity of our Lord,
As written in the old record
Of the Protevangelion,
So that he who reads may run!

[_Blows his trumpet._]

I. HEAVEN.

_Mercy_ (_at the feet of God_). Have pity, Lord! be
not afraid
To save mankind, whom thou hast made,
Nor let the souls that were betrayed
Perish eternally!

_Justice._ It cannot be, it must not be!
When in the garden placed by thee,
The fruit of the forbidden tree
He ate, and he must die!

_Mercy._ Have pity, Lord! let penitence
Atone for disobedience,
Nor let the fruit of man’s offence
Be endless misery!

_Justice._ What penitence proportionate
Can e’er be felt for sin so great?
Of the forbidden fruit he ate,
And damnèd must he be!

_God._ He shall be saved, if that within
The bounds of earth one free from sin
Be found, who for his kith and kin
Will suffer martyrdom.

_The Four Virtues._ Lord! we have searched the world around,
From centre to the utmost bound,
But no such mortal can be found;
Despairing, back we come.

_Wisdom._ No mortal, but a God-made man,
Can ever carry out this plan,
Achieving what none other can,
Salvation unto all!

_God._ Go, then, O my beloved Son!
It can by thee alone be done;
By thee the victory shall be won
O’er Satan and the Fall!

[_Here the_ ANGEL GABRIEL _shall leave Paradise and fly towards the earth; the jaws of Hell open below, and the Devils walk about, making a great noise_.]

II. MARY AT THE WELL.

_Mary._ Along the garden walk, and thence
Through the wicket in the garden fence,
I steal with quiet pace,
My pitcher at the well to fill,
That lies so deep and cool and still
In this sequestered place.
These sycamores keep guard around;
I see no face, I hear no sound,
Save bubblings of the spring,
And my companions, who within
The threads of gold and scarlet spin,
And at their labour sing.

_The Angel Gabriel._ Hail, Virgin Mary, full of grace!

[_Here_ MARY _looketh around her, trembling,
and then saith_.]

_Mary._ Who is it speaketh in this place,
With such a gentle voice?

_Gabriel._ The Lord of heaven is with thee now!
Blessed among all women thou,
Who art his holy choice!

_Mary_ (_setting down the pitcher_).
What can this mean? No one is near,
And yet such sacred words I hear,
I almost fear to stay.

[_Here the_ ANGEL, _appearing to her, shall say_.]

_Gabriel._ Fear not, O Mary! but believe!
For thou, a Virgin, shalt conceive
A child this very day.

Fear not, O Mary! from the sky
The Majesty of the Most High
Shall overshadow thee!

_Mary._ Behold the handmaid of the Lord!
According to thy holy word,
So be it unto me!

[_Here the Devils shall again make a great noise under the
stage._]

III. THE ANGELS OF THE SEVEN PLANETS, BEARING THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

_The Angels._ The Angels of the Planets Seven,
Across the shining fields of heaven
The natal star we bring!
Dropping our sevenfold virtues down,
As priceless jewels in the crown
Of Christ, our new-born King.

_Raphael._ I am the Angel of the Sun,
Whose flaming wheels began to run
When God’s almighty breath
Said to the Darkness and the Night,
Let there be light! and there was light!
I bring the gift of Faith.

_Gabriel._ I am the Angel of the Moon,
Darkened, to be rekindled soon
Beneath the azure cope!
Nearest to earth, it is my ray
That best illumes the midnight way.
I bring the gift of Hope!

_Angel._ The Angel of the Star of Love,
The Evening Star, that shines above
The place where lovers be,
Above all happy hearths and homes,
On roofs of thatch, or golden domes,
I give him Charity!

_Zobiachel._ The Planet Jupiter is mine!
The mightiest star of all that shine,
Except the sun alone!
He is the High Priest of the Dove,
And sends, from his great throne above,
Justice, that shall atone!

_Michael._ The Planet Mercury, whose place
Is nearest to the sun in space,
Is my allotted sphere!
And with celestial ardour swift
I bear upon my hands the gift
Of heavenly Prudence here!

_Uriel._ I am the Minister of Mars,
The strongest star among the stars!
My songs of power prelude
The march and battle of man’s life,
And for the suffering and the strife,
I give him Fortitude!

_Orifel._ The Angel of the uttermost
Of all the shining, heavenly host,
From the far-off expanse
Of the Saturnian, endless space
I bring the last, the crowning grace,
The gift of Temperance!

[_A sudden light shines from the windows
of the stable in the village below._]

IV. THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST.

_The stable of the Inn. The_ VIRGIN _and_ CHILD. _Three Gipsy Kings_, GASPAR, MELCHIOR, _and_ BELSHAZZAR, _shall come in_.

_Gaspar._ Hail to thee, Jesus of Nazareth!
Though in a manger thou drawest thy breath,
Thou art greater than Life and Death,
Greater than Joy or Woe!
This cross upon the line of life
Portendeth struggle, toil, and strife,
And through a region with peril rife
In darkness shalt thou go!

_Melchior._ Hail to thee, King of Jerusalem!
Though humbly born in Bethlehem,
A sceptre and a diadem
Await thy brow and hand!
The sceptre is a simple reed,
The crown will make thy temples bleed,
And in thy hour of greatest need,
Abashed thy subjects stand!

_Belshazzar._ Hail to thee, Christ of Christendom!
O’er all the earth thy kingdom come!
From distant Trebizond to Rome
Thy name shall men adore!
Peace and good-will among all men,
The Virgin has returned again,
Returned the old Saturnian reign
And Golden Age once more.

_The Child Christ._ Jesus, the Son of God, am I,
Born here to suffer and to die
According to the prophecy,
That other men may live!

_The Virgin._ And now these clothes, that wrapped him, take,
And keep them precious, for his sake,
Our benediction thus we make,
Naught else have we to give.

[_She gives them swaddling-clothes, and they depart._]

V. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.

[_Here shall_ JOSEPH _come in, leading an ass, on which are seated_ MARY _and the_ CHILD.]

_Mary._ Here will we rest us under these
O’erhanging branches of the trees,
Where robins chant their Litanies,
And canticles of Joy.

_Joseph._ My saddle-girths have given way
With trudging through the heat to-day;
To you I think it is but play
To ride and hold the boy.

_Mary._ Hark! how the robins shout and sing,
As if to hail their infant King!
I will alight at yonder spring
To wash his little coat.

_Joseph._ And I will hobble well the ass,
Lest, being loose upon the grass,
He should escape; for, by the mass,
He is nimble as a goat.

[_Here_ MARY _shall alight and go to the spring_.]

_Mary._ O Joseph! I am much afraid,
For men are sleeping in the shade;
I fear that we shall be waylaid,
And robbed and beaten sore!

[_Here a band of robbers shall be seen sleeping,
two of whom shall rise and come forward._]

_Dumachus._ Cock’s soul! deliver up your gold!

_Joseph._ I pray you, Sirs, let go your hold!
You see that I am weak and old,
Of wealth I have no store.

Dumachus. Give up your money!

_Titus._ Prithee cease.
Let these good people go in peace.

_Dumachus._ First let them pay for their release,
And then go on their way.

_Titus._ These forty groats I give in fee,
If thou wilt only silent be.

_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
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 rumour 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,
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,
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 armed band
The little children slay:
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!
My children are all slain!

_Herod._ Ho, seneschal! another cup!
With wine of Sorek fill it up!
I would a bumper drain!

_Rahab._ May maledictions fall and blast
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!

_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
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!
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
Is spreading far and wide!

[_They draw water out of the river by channels, and from 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
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!

_Jesus._ Fly, fly! ye sparrows! ye 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,
I will not play with thee!

[_He strikes_ JESUS _on the right side_.]

_Jesus._ Ah, Judas! thou hast smote my side,
And when I shall be crucified,
There shall I pierced be!

[_Here_ JOSEPH _shall come in and say_.]

_Joseph._ Ye wicked boys! Why do ye play,
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!
There’s not a beggar in the street
Makes such a sorry sight!

VIII. THE VILLAGE SCHOOL.

[_The_ RABBI BEN ISRAEL, _with a long beard, sitting on a high stool, with 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
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,
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!”
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?

_Judas._ In the Rabbinical Book, it saith
The dogs howl, when, with icy breath,
Great Sammaël, the Angel of Death,
Takes through the town his flight!

_Rabbi._ Well, boy! now say, if thou art wise,
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
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,
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!

_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!
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!

_Rabbi._ O, by St. Peter! wouldst thou so?
Come hither, boy, to me.
As surely as the letter Jod
Once cried aloud, and spake to God,
So surely shalt thou feel this rod,
And punished shalt thou be!

[_Here_ RABBI BEN ISRAEL _shall lift up his rod to strike_ JESUS, _and his right arm shall be paralysed_.]

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!
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!
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
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?

_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
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 shall be,
Among the men who follow me,
As Simon the Canaanite!