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I WITHOUT, the lonely night is sweet with stars: | |
| But me an ancient grewsome tale has bound | |
| Of them He chose and later cast aground | |
| As on a raging sea to drift like spars. | |
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| Great God! Was it but mockery Thy choice? | 5 |
| Is martyrdom the highest crown you give? | |
| And shall a People, maimed and fugitive, | |
| Be bearer of the thunder of Thy Voice? | |
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| Burn low, my lamp, I cannot further read; | |
| The woes of countless thousands o’er me flood! | 10 |
| From out the shadows lurid shapes arise: | |
| Of executioners who foam with greed, | |
| Of “holy” swords that drip with infants’ blood, | |
| Of flames that roar and shapes that agonize! | |
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II Behold! What strange procession do I see? | 15 |
| Before my vision dimmed with tears of rage, | |
| Emerging as from mists that mar the page, | |
| In sadness stern they tread so solemnly. | |
| |
| The shadows grimly lie to left and right | |
| Like huge and moving forests o’er them bent: | 20 |
| Up winds the road in tortuous ascent, | |
| And far and faint a Peak in misty white. | |
| |
| And see! From out the lurking shadows leap | |
| Uncanny shapes of beasts with howl and shriek! | |
| White flash their fangs, like points of fire their eyes! | 25 |
| The victims fall and neither groan nor weep; | |
| Each lifts his eyes unto the gleaming Peak | |
| And cries: “The Lord our God is One!” and dies! | |
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III And yet the night is sweet with stars: away | |
| Then put the tale of martyrs red with blood, | 30 |
| Of them He chose to prove in fire and flood, | |
| Of saints defiled, and blazing auto-da-fé. | |
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| Come! Ope your lattice: why forever read? | |
| The million-jewelled heavens are awake | |
| As when to Abraham the Voice outspake: | 35 |
| “As numberless as Heaven’s stars thy seed!” | |
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| Sweet, friendly stars! Your splendor calm | |
| Has not since then diminished by a gleam! | |
| Are ye not witness to the promise still? | |
| Then, heir of sorrow, purge your heart of qualm! | 40 |
| Shall bitterness of soul dislodge the dream? | |
| The Peak still glimmers: thrill, my spirit, thrill! | |
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