Part 21 (2/2)

Though l.u.s.t starve in our flesh, still he devises fire To prove our lives pure as his fierce desire.

With huge heathenish tribes roaring exultant here, Jewry fights as maid with a ravisher: Tribes who better than we deal with the G.o.ds their lords, For they pleasantly sin, yet the G.o.ds sharpen and drive their swords.

_Old Men_.

Hast thou not tried us enough, Jehovah? Hast thou found any fire Will draw from our hearts a smoke of burn'd idolatrous desire?

There is none in us, Lord: no other G.o.d in us but thee; Only thy fires make our clean souls glitter with agony.

Pure we are, pure in our prayers, pure our souls look to thee, Lord; And to be shewn to the world devoured by evil is our reward.

_Young Men_.

We whose hearts were alone giving our G.o.d renown, Under the wheels of h.e.l.l we are fallen down!

False the heaven we built, fas.h.i.+on'd of purity; 'Tis heathen heavens, made out of sin, stand high.

Come, make much of our G.o.d! Comfort his ears with song, Lest his pride the G.o.ds with their laughter wrong, Seeing, huddled as beasts held by a fearful night Full of lions and hunger, his folk crouch to the heathen might.

_Old Men_.

Jehovah, still we refrain from crying to the infamous gates That open easily into the heavens thy mind of jealousy hates.

Power is in them: hast thou no power? Wilt thou not beware Lest thy mood now press our minds to venturous despair?

_Young Men_.

Fool'd, fool'd, fool'd are our lives, held by the world in jeer; With crazed eyes we behold veils of enormous fear Hiding dreadfully those marvellous gates and stairs Where the heathen delighted with sin throng with their prosperous prayers.

_Old Men_.

Yea, hung like the front of pestilent winds, thunderous dark before The way into the heathen heavens, terrible curtains pour, Webs of black imagination and woven frenzy of sin; And yet we know power on earth belongs to those within.

_Young Men_.

Yea, through Jehovah's jealousy, Burning dimly at last we see The great bra.s.s made like rigid flame, The gates of the heavens we dare not name.

Take hold of wickedness! Yea, have heart To tear the darkness of sin apart; And find, beyond, our comforted sight Flash full of a glee of fiery light,-- The G.o.ds the heathen know through sin, The G.o.ds who give them the world to win!

_Judith_.

This may I not escape. My world hath need Of me who still hold G.o.d firm in my mind.

It is no matter if I fail: I must Send the G.o.d in me forth, and yield to him The shaping of whatever chance befall.-- Ozias! hateful thou hast made thyself To me; for thou hast hatefully soiled my beauty, My preciousest, given me to attire my soul For her long marriage festival of life.

Yet I must make request to thee, and thou Must grant it. When the sun is down to-night, Quietly set the main gate open: I Will pa.s.s therethrough and treat with Holofernes.

_Ozias_.

What, wilt thou go to be murdered by these fiends?

_Judith_.

Ask nothing, but do simply my request.

_Ozias_.

I will: so thou shalt know the reverent heart I have for thee, although its wors.h.i.+p thou So bitterly despisest; but thy will Shall be a sacred thing for me to serve.

Thou hast thy dangerous demand, because It is thou who askest, it is I who may Grant it to thee,--this only! Yea, I will send Thy heedless body among risks that thou, Looking alone at the great s.h.i.+ning G.o.d Within thy mind, seest not; but I see And sicken at them. Yet do I not require Thy purpose; whether thy proud heart must have The wound of death from steel that has not toucht The peevish misery these Jews call blood; Whether thy mind is for velvet slavery In the desires of some a.s.syrian lord-- Forgive me, Judith! there my love spoke, made Foolish with injury; and I should be Unwise to stay here, lest it break the hold I have it in. I go, and I am humbled.

But thou shalt have thy asking: the gate is thine.

[_He goes_.

_Judith_.

How can it harm me more, to feel my beauty Read by man's eyes to mean his l.u.s.t set forth?

Yea, Holofernes now can bring no shame Upon me that Ozias hath not brought.

But this is chief: what balance can there be In my own hurt against a nation's pining?

<script>