Classic Poem

Nay,Edith! spare the Rose;—perhaps it lives,
And feels the noontide sun, and drinks refresh'd
The dews of night; let not thy gentle hand
Tear its life-strings asunder, and destroy
The sense of being!—Why that infidel smile?
Come, I will bribe thee to be merciful;
And thou shalt have a tale of other days,—
For I am skill'd in legendary lore,—
So thou wilt let it live. There was a time
Ere this, the freshest, sweetest flower that blooms,
Bedeck'd the bowers of earth. Thou hast not heard
How first by miracle its fragrant leaves
Spread to the sun their blushing loveliness.

There dwelt in Bethlehem a Jewish maid,
And Zillah was her name, so passing fair
That all Judea spake the virgin's praise.
He who had seen her eye's dark radiance
How it reveal'd her soul, and what a soul
Beam'd in the mild effulgence, woe to him
For not in solitude, for not in crowds,
Might he escape remembrance, nor avoid
Her imaged form, which followed every where,
And filled the heart, and fix'd the absent eye.
Alas for him! her bosom own'd no love
Save the strong ardor of religious zeal,
For Zillah on her God had centred all
Her spirit's deep affections. So for her
Her tribes-men sigh'd in vain, yet reverenced
The obdurate virtue that destroy'd their hopes.

One man there was, a vain and wretched man,
Who saw, desired, despaired, and hated her.
His sensual eye had gloated on her cheek
Even till the flush of angry modesty
Gave it new charms, and made him gloat the more.
She loathed the man; for Hamuel's eye was bold,
And the strong workings of brute selfishness
Had moulded his broad features; and she fear'd
The bitterness of wounded vanity
That with a fiendish hue would overcast
His faint and lying smile. Nor vain her fear;
For Hamuel vow'd revenge, and laid a plot
Against her virgin fame. He spread abroad
Whispers that travel fast, and ill reports
That soon obtain belief; how Zillah's eye,
When in the temple heaven-ward it was raised,
Did swim with rapturous zeal, but there were those
Who had beheld the enthusiast's melting glance
With other feelings fill'd;—that 'twas a task
Of easy sort to play the saint by day
Before the public eye, but that all eyes
Were closed at night;—that Zillah's life was foul,
Yea, forfeit to the law.
Shame—shame to man,
That he should trust so easily the tongue
Which stabs another's fame! The ill report
Was heard, repeated, and believed, and soon,—
For Hamuel, by his well-schemed villany,
Produced such semblances of guilt,—the Maid
Was to the fire condemn'd.
Without the walls,
There was barren field; a place abhorr'd,
For it was there where wretched criminals
Receiv'd their death; and there they fix'd the stake,
And piled the fuel round, which should consume
The injured Maid, abandon'd, as it seem'd,
By God and Man. The assembled Bethlemites
Beheld the scene, and when they saw the Maid
Bound to the stake, with what calm holiness
She lifted up her patient looks to Heaven,
They doubted of her guilt. With other thoughts
Stood Hamuel near the pile; him savage joy
Led thitherward, but now within his heart
Unwonted feelings stirr'd, and the first pangs
Of weakening guilt, anticipant of Hell.
The eye of Zillah, as it glanced around,
Fell on the slanderer once, and rested there
A moment; like a dagger did it pierce,
And struck into his soul a cureless wound.
Conscience! thou God within us! not in the hour
Of triumph dost thou spare the guilty wretch;
Not in the hour of infamy and death
Forsake the virtuous! They draw near the stake,—
They bring the torch!—hold, hold your erring hands!
Yet quench the rising flames!—they rise! they spread!
They reach the suffering Maid! oh God protect
The innocent one!
They rose, they spread, they raged;—
The breath of God went forth; the ascending fire
Beneath its influence bent, and all its flames
In one long lightning-flash concentrating,
Darted and blasted Hamuel,—him alone.
Hark!—what a fearful scream the multitude
Pour forth!—and yet more miracles! the stake
Branches and buds, and, spreading its green leaves,
Embowers and canopies the innocent Maid,
Who there stands glorified; and Roses, then
First seen on earth since Paradise was lost,
Profusely blossom round her, white and red,
In all their rich variety of hues;
And fragrance such as our first parents breathed
In Eden she inhales, vouchsafed to her
A presage sure of Paradise regain'd.