Volume I Part 51 (1/2)

And in a low delight Thou liest, waiting for new breath.

For morning out of night.

Thou risest up: the earth is fair, The wind is cool; thou art free!

Is it a dream of h.e.l.l's despair Dissolves in ecstasy?

That man did touch thee! Eyes divine Make sunrise in thy soul; Thou seest love in order s.h.i.+ne:-- His health hath made thee whole!

Thou, sharing in the awful doom, Didst help thy Lord to die; Then, weeping o'er his empty tomb, Didst hear him _Mary_ cry.

He stands in haste; he cannot stop; Home to his G.o.d he fares: ”Go tell my brothers I go up To my Father, mine and theirs.”

Run, Mary! lift thy heavenly voice; Cry, cry, and heed not how; Make all the new-risen world rejoice-- Its first apostle thou!

What if old tales of thee have lied, Or truth have told, thou art All-safe with him, whate'er betide-- Dwell'st with him in G.o.d's heart!

XIII.

_THE WOMAN IN THE TEMPLE_.

A still dark joy! A sudden face!

Cold daylight, footsteps, cries!

The temple's naked, s.h.i.+ning s.p.a.ce, Aglare with judging eyes!

All in abandoned guilty hair, With terror-pallid lips, To vulgar scorn her honour bare, To lewd remarks and quips,

Her eyes she fixes on the ground Her shrinking soul to hide, Lest, at uncurtained windows found, Its shame be clear descried.

All idle hang her listless hands, They tingle with her shame; She sees not who beside her stands, She is so bowed with blame.

He stoops, he writes upon the ground, Regards nor priests nor wife; An awful silence spreads around, And wakes an inward strife.

Then comes a voice that speaks for thee, Pale woman, sore aghast: ”Let him who from this sin is free At her the first stone cast!”

Ah then her heart grew slowly sad!

Her eyes bewildered rose; She saw the one true friend she had, Who loves her though he knows.

He stoops. In every charnel breast Dead conscience rises slow: They, dumb before that awful guest, Turn, one by one, and go.

Up in her deathlike, ashy face Rises the living red; No greater wonder sure had place When Lazarus left the dead!

She is alone with him whose fear Made silence all around; False pride, false shame, they come not near, She has her saviour found!

Jesus hath spoken on her side, Those cruel men withstood!

From him her shame she will not hide!

For him she _will_ be good!

He rose; he saw the temple bare; They two are left alone!