Classic Poem

THE SECOND ACT.

Peter .

Y OU offspring of bloodthirsty Romulus,
Foes to sweet peace, to our Great God, and us,
And you profaner sacrificers, who
With subtil mischief guiltless blood pursue;
Since you would not refuse to bind the hands
Of Innocence, on me impose your bands:
Seize on the guilty; he who hath refus'd
His Lord and Master, by himself accus'd.
The ills yet suffer'd, I deserve to bear
For looking on; what follows, for my fear.
You need no torches to subdue the night's
Dark shades to find me; no stern satellites
Drawn from the Temple, nor with Romans join
To act one sin; nor spend your sacred coin
In salary to such a Guide as may
With a perfidious kiss his Lord betray.
This head I give you freely; hither haste:
No sudden whirlwinds shall your bodies cast
On trembling earth. Behold, I with my hands
Behind me bound, implore your dire commands,
And run to meet your stripes. Are you now prone
To melting pity? Will you punish none
But with injustice? Is your fury slow,
Unless to those who no offences know?
We both alike have impiously transgrest:
You in not punishing a fault confest;
And I who have the Living Lord denied.
Just judges of a life so sanctified,
To whom suborned witnesses have sold
Their damned perjuries, a wretch behold,
And hear his crime: My country Galilee,
To follow Christ. I left, both land and sea;
Son to the Thunderer, His only Heir,
From Heav'n sent by His Father to repair
And rule th' affairs of mortals: This is He,
Whom you have bound, Who must his country free.
Rebellious vassals, you have doom'd your King.
I know the impious race from whence you spring,
Your savage manners, cruel ancestors,
Whom Nature, as her greatest curse, abhors.
Such, when the trembling boy his brethren's hands,
Their truculent aspects, and servile bands
Beheld; though privy to a better fate,
Whose providence was to reward their hate:
Soon after, call'd to Nile's sev'n-channell'd flood,
He famine from both lands expell'd with food.
So your seditious fathers mutinied
At Sina's rocks, against their sacred Head:
And there the food of angels loath'd, which fell
From heav'n in show'rs: besotted Israel
Egypt and servitude preferr'd above
The tents of Moses and their country's love.
What numbers, with prophetic raptures fill'd,
Have you, and yet not unrevenged, kill'd!
Memphis, devouring deserts, civil wars.
Oft foreign yokes, Assyrian conquerors,
Great Pompey's eagles, sacred rites profan'd,
Your Temple sack'd, with slaughter'd Levites stain'd;
Are all forgot? Yet worse attend your hate.
O that I were the minister of fate!
I then would tear your guilty buildings down,
And in a crimson sea their ruins drown.
Witness you groves, late conscious of our cares,
Where Christ with tears pour'd forth His funeral pray'rs,
How I revenge pursu'd; and with their blood
Would have augmented Cedron's murmuring flood:
But He, for Whom I struck, reprov'd the blow,
And, following His own precept, cur'd His foe.
For Malchus, rushing on in front of all,
Perceiving part of his, with-out him, fall,
Search'd with his flaming brand: the bleeding ear
Seen on the earth, revenge subdu'd his fear;
Who loudly roaring shook his threaten'd bands,
And straight encounter'd those all-healing Hands.
They to his head that ornament restor'd,
And benefits for injuries afford.
But O blind mischief! I, who gave the wound,
Am left at large; and He, Who heal'd it, bound.
O Peter, canst thou yet forbear to throw
Thy body on the weapons of the foe?
If thou would'st vindicate thy Lord, begin
First with thyself, and punish thy own sin.
Thou that dar'st menace armies, thou that art
Fierce as a Midian tiger, of a heart
Invincible, nor knows what 'tis to dread,
With Fortune, at the first encounter, fled.
A fugitive, a rebel; one that hath
All crimes committed in this breach of faith.
Who tow'ring hopes on his own strength erects,
Nor the self-flatt'ring mind's deceit suspects,
But his vain virtue trust, let him in me
The sad example of his frailty see:
From slippery heights how pronely mortals slide,
Their heady errors punishing their pride.
What can I add to these misdeeds of mine,
Who have defil'd the water, bread, and wine,
With my abhorr'd defection? O, could I
Those lips pollute with wilful perjury,
But newly-feasted with that Sacred Food,
Presenting His torn Flesh, and pour'd-out Blood!
O Piety! for this, thou renegate,
Did Jesus wash thy flying feet of late?
Not Jordan with two heads, whose waters roll
From snow-top Libanus, can cleanse thy soul;
Not thou, Callirhoe; nor that ample lake,
From whose forsaken shore my birth I take.
Could'st thou blue Nereus, in whose troubled deep
Nile's sev'n large mouths their foaming currents steep?
Or that Red Sea, whose waves in rampires stood,
While our forefathers pass'd the parted flood?
These purging streams from thy own springs must flow.
Repentance, why are thy complaints so slow?
Raise storms of sighs; let tears in torrents fall,
And on thy blushing cheeks deep furrows gall.
O so! run freely: beat thy stubborn breast:
Here spend thy rage; these blows become thee best.
This, wretched Cephas, for thy crimes I owe:
What can I for my injured Lord bestow?
My deeds and suff'rings disproportion'd are,
Nor must they in an equal sorrow share.
Should this night ever last, to propagate
Increasing sorrows, till subdu'd by Fate,
My penitent soul this wasted flesh forsake,
Yet can my guilt no reparation make.
Swoll'n eyes, now weep you? then you should have wept,
Besprinkled my devotion, and have kept
That holy watch, when interdicted sleep
Your drowsy lids did in his Lethe steep.
You should have dropp'd my brains into a flood,
Before He at that dire tribunal stood;
Ere, thrice abjur'd, on me His looks he threw;
Or ere th' accusing bird of dawning crew.
Where shall I hide me? In what dungeon may
My troubled soul avoid the woful day?
Fly quickly to some melancholy cave,
In whose dark entrails thou may'st find a grave
To bury thee alive: there waste thy years
In cherish'd sorrow, and unwitness'd tears.

P ONTIUS P ILATE : C AIAPHAS .

T ARPEIAN Jove; Mars, great Quirinus' sire;
You household gods, snatch'd from Troy's funeral fire,
With greater zeal ador'd; when shall I pay
My vows? my off'rings on your altars lay?
And see those roofs which top the clouds, the beams
With burnish'd gold inchas'd, and blazing gems?
Those theatres, which ring with their applause
Who on the conquer'd world impose their laws?
And thee, the triple earth's impetuous guide,
Great-soul'd Tiberius, whether thou reside
On Tiber's banks, ador'd by grateful Rome,
Ambitious of his residence, for whom
She gave the world; or Caprae, much renown'd
For soft delights, impoverish the long-gown'd?
Far from my friends, far from my native soil,
I here in honourable exile toil,
To curb a people whom the gods disclaim:
Who cover under the usurped name
Of piety, their hate to all mankind;
Condemn the world; in their own vices blind;
And with false grounded fear abjure for One,
All those immortals which the heav'ns inthrone.
Their only law is to renounce all laws:
Their error, which from others hatred draws,
Fomenting their own discord, still provokes
Their spirits to rebellion, who their yokes
Have oft attempted to shake off; though they
More easily are subdu'd than taught to obey.
Clear justice, sincere faith, bear witness you
With how much grief our swords the Hebrews slew:
But such as stubborn and inhuman are,
Unless they suffer, would enforce a war:
And reason urgeth those who sceptres bear,
Against their nature, oft to prove severe.
I go to question what these prelates would,
Since they forbear to enter, lest they should
(Their feast so near) with my unhallow'd floor
Their feet pollute. Who's this, by such a pow'r
In shackles led? How reverent His aspect!
How full of awe! Those looks no guilt detect.
Thou Caiaphas, of Solyma the prime,
And prince of priests, relate th' imputed crime.

C AIAPHAS .

Great guardian of the Roman peace, whom we
Next Caesar honour; to be doom'd by thee,
Our Senate brings th' Infection of these times:
Whom we accuse of no suggested crimes.
Those holy rites which grave antiquity
First introduced, since defended by
A long descent, this Innovator sought
To abolish, and a new religion taught.
Nor fearing the recess of God's own seat,
The Temple's ruin sings, and roof replete
With the full Deity: disturbs the feast
Of the Seventh Day, design'd for sacred rest.
Those laws rejects which Moses' pen reveal'd,
Ev'n those by God with dreadful thunder seal'd.
Nor so content; with Heav'n His fury wars,
Aspires that throne, and tramples on the stars.
Who styles Himself, though of ignoble birth,
His Only Son, Who made both heav'n and earth.
This, death must expiate: he hath judg'd His cause,
Who writ in leaves of marble our ten laws.

P ILATE .

When wrath, the nurse of war, and thirst of gold
Destructive arts produc'd, the better soul'd
No peace nor safety found, enforc'd to bear:
Life, of itself infirm, through common fear
Into societies the scatter'd drew,
Who by united forces potent grew:
Entrenched cities with high walls immur'd;
But more by well-digested laws secur'd:
The crime and punishment proportion kept;
And wrongs, like wolves, on their first authors leapt:
Justice from each offence example took;
And his own weapon the delinquent strook:
Spoil seiz'd on rapine, blood drew blood; deterr'd
From doing that which they to suffer fear'd.
But more than human plagues attend on those
Who God provoke: He prosecutes His foes
With sure revenge. Why should those Hands which tear
The coulds with thunder, shake the world with fear,
Their wrath to man resign? The impious find
Their scourge: the terror of th' astonish'd mind
Affrights their peace: who feel what they deny,
And fear an unbelieved Deity.
One day no period to his torment gives,
To tremble at the name of death he lives,
Still apprehending what than death is worse,
Long life awarded to prolong his curse.
But if He have your laws infring'd, be you
Yourselves the judges, and His guilt pursue.

C AIAPHAS .

Although those ancient laws, which now remain
Among us, we acknowledge to retain
From Rome's free bounty; yet to you 'tis known,
Our curbed pow'r can death inflict on none.
You, to whom Caesar's fortunes recommend
His rods and axes, sacred rule defend.
This guilty wretch, Whose practices we fear,
Of late His place of birth forsaking, where
The sea is honour'd with Tiberius' name,
With troops of clients to this city came.
Who seeds of war among the vulgar sows:
With what injustice Roman arms impose
Their tribute on a nation ever free.
With magic charms and Stygian compact, He
Attracts belief: denies the dead their rest,
Of those unenvied mansions dispossest
By wicked spells. These prodigies delude
The novelty-affecting multitude:
Whom for their Lord their loud hosannas greet,
And strew the noble palm beneath His feet.
Embolden'd by these arts, He, as His own
By birth, aspires to David's ancient throne.
When Rome, provok'd by His rebellion, shall
Arm her just grief, we by the sword must fall,
Our city sink in flames, our country lie
Depopulated. But since one must die
To save the general, sentenc'd by thy breath,
Let Him redeem His nation with His death.

P ILATE .

Such doubtful causes grave advice require:
Here, if you please, attend; while I retire.
The prisoner to the soldiers' care commit,
On Whom this day we will in judgment sit.

CHORUS OF JEWISH WOMEN.

Y OU lofty towers of Solyma,
Thou ancient throne of sov'reign sway:
To thee the conquer'd tribute paid,
From th' Isthmus, crown'd with ebon shade,
To great Euphrates' trembling streams,
Arabians, scorch'd by Phaebus' beams.
Th' admiring queen, wing'd with thy fame,
From her black-peopled empire came.
Great kings, ambitious of thy love,
To join with thee in friendship strove.
Those who Canopus' sceptre bore,
Those monarchs who the sun adore,
And o'er the wealthy Orient reign:
Sarrana, sov'reign of the main.
Now, ah! a miserable thrall!
O nothing, but a prey to all!
This land, t' one God once chastely wed,
How often hath she chang'd her head,
Since they our temple's ruin'd pride
With bad presage re-edified!
Since those, in foreign bondage born,
Did with their servile fates return!
On us Antiochus' guilt reflects:
Our father's sins sit on our necks.
What durst that wicked age not do,
Which could those altars naked view,
Oft flaming with celestial fire?
Provoking Heav'n's deserved ire
With their adult'rate sacrifice?
For this did ours so highly prize
Th' Ionian gods, by mortals made,
And incense to those idols paid?
Since when th' accurs'd their brothers slew;
Wives, less malicious poison brew;
Sons fall by mothers: we have known
That which will be believ'd by none.
Twice vanquished by Roman arms;
Twice have their conquerors our harms
Remov'd for greater: fortune's change
To our proud masters prov'd as strange.
Yet this no less our grief provokes,
Our kindred bear divided yokes:
One part by Roman bondage wrung;
The other two by brothers, sprung
From savage Idumaeans, whom
Our fathers have so oft o'ercome.
O thou the Hope, the only One,
Of our distress, and ruin'd throne;
Of Whom, with a prophetic tongue,
To Judah dying Jacob sung:
The crowned muse on ivory lyre,
His breast inflam'd with holy fire,
This oft foretold: that Thou shouldst free
The people consecrate to Thee;
That Thou, triumphing, shouldst revoke
Sweet peace, then never to be broke;
When freed Judea should obey
One Lord, and all affect His sway.
O when shall we behold Thy face,
So often promis'd to our race?
If prophets, who have won belief
By our mishaps and flowing grief,
Of joyful change as truly sung,
Thy absence should not now be long.
Thee, by Thy virtue, we entreat;
The temple's veil, the mercy-seat;
That Name, by which our fathers sware,
Which in our vulgar speech we dare
Not utter, to compassionate
Thy kindred's tears, and ruin'd state.
Haste, to our great redemption, haste,
O Thou Most Holy! and at last
Bless with Thy presence, that we may
To Thee our vows devoutly pay.