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| CHRISTIANS were on the earth ere Christ was born; | |
| His laws, not yet a code, were follow’d still | |
| By sightless Pagans in the dark forlorn, | |
| Groping toward the light, as blind men will: | |
| Thousands of years ago men dared to die | 5 |
| Loving their enemies—and wonder’d why! | |
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| Who that has read in Homer’s truthful page | |
| Of brave Achilles brooding o’er the corse | |
| Of Hector sacrificed—less to his rage | |
| Than iron custom’s law, without remorse | 10 |
| Claiming revenge for mild Patroclus slain— | |
| Can doubt he wish’d great Hector lived again? | |
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| Full half the tears he shed were Hector’s due, | |
| Whose noble soul he had to Hades sent. | |
| Why—was Patroclus gainer, if they knew? | 15 |
| Methinks I see Achilles in his tent | |
| Beating his breast and twitching at his hair, | |
| Wanting a few words only—the Lord’s Prayer! | |
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| And more for his than Priam’s sake I feel | |
| Rejoiced when I am told the good old man | 20 |
| Comes with his simple fatherly appeal | |
| For Hector’s body—pointing out a plan | |
| Of kindliness, atonement, and of peace, | |
| That in Achilles’ breast hate’s strife may cease. | |
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| What joy he must have felt to see a way | 25 |
| To turn him from revenge’s irksome path; | |
| Like a worn seaman who descries the day | |
| After a night-watch ’mid the tempest’s wrath. | |
| Methinks I see him in his huge arms bear | |
| Great Hector’s body, with admiring care, | 30 |
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| And, chuckling to evade the sentries dull, | |
| Convey it thro’ the sleeping camp with glee, | |
| With sense of lightness, new and wonderful, | |
| To grateful Priam’s car. ‘What can it be,’ | |
| —I hear him ask—‘thus makes my bosom glow, | 35 |
| Showing such weakness to a fallen foe?’ | |
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