The poem from which we select (reluctantly we take a part instead of the whole, for lack of space), is an embodiment of the story taken from Theodoret. The poet has found in the beautiful tradition, meagre though it is, a lovely theme for his divine song of spiritual love and Christian martyrdom.
The following is the translation of the Greek passage which heads the poem:
"A certain Telemachus embraced the self-sacrificing life of a monk, and, to carry out this plan, went to Rome, where he arrived during the abominable shows of gladiators. He went down into the arena, and strove to stop the conflicts of the armed combatants. But the spectators of the bloody games were indignant, and the gladiators themselves, full of the spirit of battle, slew the apostle of peace. When the great Emperor learned the facts he enrolled Telemachus in the noble army of martyrs, and put an end to the murderous shows."
Theodoret. Eccl. Hist. v. 26.
The scene is Rome,—the place the Coliseum. It is the time of the games. There are the crowds of eager people; the Emperor Honorius; the horrible Stilicho. Lowly and beautiful in his great love for Christ, Telemachus follows onward to the Coliseum to meet his sorrowful fate; holding in his voice the power that "stilled the fire and dulled the sword and stopped the crushing wine-press." He followed, silently, consecrated and alone, to "do the will of God."
TELEMACHUS.
I mused on Claudian's tinseled eulogies,
And turned to seek in other dusty tomes,
Through the wild waste of those degenerate days,
Some living word, some utterance of the heart;
Till as when one lone peak of Jura flames
With sudden sunbeams breaking through the mist,
So from the dull page of Theodoret
A flash of splendor rends the clouds of life,
And bares to view the awful throne of love.
The bishop's tale is meagre, but as leaven,
It works in thoughts that rise and fill the soul.
*....*....*....*....*
He felt the soil, long drenched with martyr's blood,
Send healing through his feet to all his frame.
He drank the air that trembled with the joys
Of opening Paradise, and bared his soul
To spirits whispering, "Come with us to-day!"
The longings of his life were satisfied,
He stood at last in Rome, Christ's Capital,
The gate of heaven and not the mouth of hell.