He murmureth out he is content to dwell

In the Cold Clime for ever, so Thou sendest
A face to look upon, a heart that beats,
A hand to touch - albeit like himself,
Black, venomous, unblest, exiled, and base:
Give him this thing, he will be very still,
Nor trouble Thee again.'

The Lord mused.

Still,

Scarce audible trembled the Waters of Life —
Over all Heaven the Snow of the same Thought
Which rose within the Spirit of the Lord
Fell hushedly; the innumerable Eyes

Swam in a lustrous dream.

Then said the Lord:

In all the waste of worlds there dwelleth not
Another like himself - behold he is

The basest Mortal born. Yet 't is not meet
His cruel cry, for ever piteous,

Should trouble my eternal Sabbath-day.
Is there a Spirit here, a human thing,
Will pass this day from the Gate Beautiful

To share the exile of this Man accurst,

That he may cease the shrill pain of his cry,
And I have peace?'

Hushedly, hushedly,

Snowed down the Thought Divine — the living Waters

Murmured and darkened. But like mournful mist

That hovers o'er an autumn pool, two Shapes,

Beautiful, human, glided to the Gate

And waited.

'What art thou?' in a stern voice

The Seraph said, with dreadful forefinger

Pointing to one. A gentle voice replied,

'I will go forth with him whom ye call curst! He grew within my womb - my milk was white Upon his lips. I will go forth with him!'

'And thou?' the Seraph said. The second Shape
Answered, 'I also will go forth with him;

I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast,
I bare him children, and I closed his eyes;

I will go forth with him!'

Then said the Lord,

'What Shapes are these who speak?' The Seraph an

swered:

'The woman who bore him and the wife he wed

The one he slew in anger — the other he stript,

With ravenous claws, of raiment and of food.'

Then said the Lord, 'Doth the Man hear?' 'He hears,' Answered the Seraph; 'like a wolf he lies,

Venomous, bloody, dark, a thing accurst,

And hearkeneth, with no sign!' Then said the Lord :
'Show them the Man,' and the pale Seraph cried,
'Behold!'

Hushedly, hushedly, hushedly,

In heaven fell the Snow of Thought Divine,
Gleaming upon the Waters of Life beneath

And melting, as with slow and lingering pace,

The Shapes stole forth into the windy cold,

And saw the thing that lay and throbbed and lived, And stooped above him. Then one reached a hand And touched him, and the fierce thing shrank and spat, Hiding his face.

'Have they beheld the Man?' The Lord said; and the Seraph answered, 'Yea;' And the Lord said again, 'What doth the Man?' 'He lieth like a log in the wild blast,

And as he lieth, lo! one sitting takes

His head into her lap, and moans his name,
And smooths his matted hair from off his brow,
And croons in a low voice a cradle song;
And lo! the other kneeleth at his side,
Half-shrinking in the old habit of her fear,
Yet hungering with her eyes, and passionately
Kissing his bloody hands.'

Then said the Lord,

'Will they go forth with him?' A voice replied,
'He grew within my womb - my milk was white
Upon his lips. I will go forth with him!'
And a voice cried, 'I will go forth with him;
I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast,
I bore him children, and I closed his eyes;

I will go forth with him!'

Still hushedly

Snowed down the Thought Divine, the Waters of Life Flowed softly, sadly; for an alien sound,

A piteous human cry, a sob forlorn

Thrilled to the heart of Heaven.

The Man wept.

And in a voice of most exceeding peace

The Lord said (while against the Breast Divine The Waters of Life leapt, gleaming, gladdening): 'The Man is saved; let the Man enter in!'

FROM THE CORUISKEN SONNETS.' 4

II.

WE ARE FATHERLESS.

I FOUND Thee not by the starved widow's bed,
Nor in the sick-rooms where my dear ones died;
In Cities vast I hearkened for Thy tread,

And heard a thousand call Thee, wretched-eyed,
Worn out, and bitter. But the Heavens denied
Their melancholy Maker. From the Dead
Assurance came, nor answer. Then I fled

Into these wastes, and raised my hands, and cried:
'The seasons pass - the sky is as a pall
Thin wasted hands on withering hearts we press
There is no God — in vain we plead and call,
In vain with weary eyes we search and guess -
Like children in an empty house sit all,
Cast-away children, lorn and fatherless.'

VI.

LORD, ART THOU HERE?

LORD, art Thou here? far from the citied zones,
Brooding in melancholy solitude;

Hushing Thy breath to awful undertones,
Darkening Thy face, if mortal foot intrude.
Father, how shall I meet Thee in this mood?

How shall I ask Thee why Thou dwell'st with stones,
While far away the world, like Lazarus, groans,
Sick for Thy healing. Father, if Thou be'st good,
And wise, and gentle, oh come down, come down!
Come like an Angel with a human face,
Pass through the gates into the hungry Town,
Comfort the weary, send the afflicted grace,
Shine brighter on the graves where we lay down
Our dear ones, cheer them in the narrow place!

XXXIV.

QUIET WATERS.

O RAINBOW, Rainbow, on the livid height
Softening its ashen outlines into dream,
Dewy yet brilliant, delicately bright

As pink wild-roses' leaves, why dost thou gleam
So beckoningly? Whom dost thou invite
Still higher upward on the bitter quest?
What dost thou promise to the weary sight
In that strange region whence thou issuest?
Speakest thou of pensive runlets by whose side
Our dear ones wander sweet and gentle-eyed,
In the soft dawn of some diviner Day?

Art thou a promise? Come those hues and dyes
From heavenly Meads, near which thou dost arise,
Irised from Quiet Waters, far away!

THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT.

'T WAS the body of Judas Iscariot

Lay in the Field of Blood;
'T was the soul of Judas Iscariot
Beside the body stood.

Black was the earth by night,
And black was the sky;

Black, black were the broken clouds,
Tho' the red moon went by.

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot
Strangled and dead lay there;
'T was the soul of Judas Iscariot
Looked on it in despair.