UNTO the constant heart whom saints befriend
Afar in peace, what were our gaudy praise?
His course is ended, and his faith is kept.
Honor in silence to that memory! sweet
Equally in the forum of the schools,
And in the sufferer’s hovel. His, threefold,
The lowliness of Isai’s chosen son,
And zeal that fired the warring Macchabee,
About him like a wedding-garment, worn
The day of his acceptance; and we know
That for the sake of some such soul as this,—
So brave, so clean, compassionate and just,
Alert in its most meek security,—
Love beareth yet with all that stains the world.
BANKRUPT.
PAST the cold gates, a wraith without a name,
Sullen and withered, like a thing half-tame
Still for its jungle moaning, came by night,
Before the Judgment’s awful Angel came.
‘Answer, Immortal! at my high decree
Glory or shame shall flood thee as the sea:
What of the power, the skill, the graciousness,
The star-strong soul the Lord hath lent to thee?’
But the lone spectre raised a mournful hand:
‘Call me not that! Release me from this land!
What words are Heaven and Hell? They fall on me
As on a sphere the fooled and slipping sand.
‘Discerning, thou the good mayst yet belie,
By some last test, the sinner sanctify.
My guilt is neutral-safe, like innocence:
No boon nor bane of deathless days gain I,
‘Whose life is hollow shell and broken bowl,
Of all which was its treasury, the whole
Utterly, vilely squandered. O most Just!
Put down thy scales: for I have spent my soul.’