The Epic of Paul

by William Cleaver Wilkinson

THE LAST OF SHIMEI.

A parable in life of perfect love
(Other than was in heaven to be beheld),
The clustering angels, crowded nigh to see,
Saw in the things that then and there befell.
It might indeed have been a scene let down
Suddenly from above in lively show
Of love in act on earth like love in heaven—
Only that never in heaven is need of act,
From love, of mercy such as now was seen,
A living picture, on that vessel's deck!

Luke the physician, at a sign from Paul,
With Aristarchus, one on either side,
Supported Shimei, tottering as he went
(Too weak to wish or will or this or that,
Or otherwise behave than just submit),
To where with feat celerity meanwhile
The women, of one mind, Rachel and Ruth
And fair Eunicé, in a sheltered place
Had spread, of rug and pillow thither brought,
A sudden couch whereon a man might rest.
Stephen, from out the store of frugal cheer
By his forecasting mother's care purveyed—
Provision for the needs that might attend
The chances of sea-faring—brought and broached
A flagon of sweet wine. This, to the lips
Of Shimei in a slender goblet pressed,
Cheered him his heart and made him seem to live.
All was in silence done, and then, withdrawn
A little from about the man supine,
That company of ministrants, one will—
Among them Mary Magdalené too,
Pathetic, with her deep-experienced eyes—
Kept quiet watch and wished that he might sleep.

And Shimei slept; a deep dissolving sleep—
Unjointed all his members in remiss
Solution of the consciousness of life.
A long deep sleep; a dreamless sleep at first,
Then, as the hours wore on and still he slept,
Delicious reminiscences in dream
(Unconscious hoarded treasure of the brain,)
Were loosed within him of a dewy dawn
Forgotten, and a time when he was young.
He had found the fountain in that land of dream,
And drunk his fill from it with sweet delight,
Famed for its virtue to renew in youth.
The old man was a boy again, at home,
A Hebrew home though on an alien shore.
Perhaps some soft insinuation crept
Into his sleep from that last waking sense
Of his, the sense, to him unwonted long—
A lonely man, of wife, of child, bereft,
Who never sister's gentleness had known—
Of touch from woman's hand; however it was,
Shimei a vision of his mother had.
A son, her only, by his mother's knee,
That mother's blossoming hope, her joy, her pride,
He felt the benediction of a hand,
Her hand, laid like a softness on his brow;
And Shimei's lips, no longer thin and cold,
But warm now, and with flush of lifeblood full,
Moved in responsive welcome of a kiss,
Her kiss, and holy, like a touch of chrism.
How fair the vision was that then he saw!
How sweet the tones were that once more he heard!
Such sound, such sight, were better than sweet sleep;
And the fond sleeper fain would wake, to dream
So good a dream awake, and to the full
Taste it, with senses and with soul nowise
Bound from the right fruition of their feast.

So, as of his own motion, Shimei woke—
And instantly was sorry for the change.
His eyes he dared not open to the day,
Holding them shut to hold himself asleep.
Alas, in vain! Too late! Full well he knew
Now what he was, and where, and that in truth
His happy boyhood had come back in dream.
Yet lay he lapped in luxury of pain
And pathos, and sweet pity of himself,
And longings toward a past beyond recall,
With something also of a good remorse
That he was such as then he felt he was,
Poor broken worldling, empty heart, and old
(In contrast of his visionary youth!),
Therewith perhaps some upward-groping wish
That he were other. All-undoing stress
It was, of elemental motions blind
About the bases of his being bowed
Like Samson, and his state was overthrown.
Those agéd eyes that had been used to glint
Metallic lusters, or of adamant,
Softened beneath the lids, unseen, and tears
Forced themselves forth down either temple falling.
Instinctively he stirred, and with his hands
(Vainly, encumbered with their manacles!)
He sought to brush those trickling tears away.
They wandered down to mingle with his hair,
Long locks, and thin, of iron grey, unkempt,
Close clinging to the sunken temple walls.
Rachel with Ruth remarked the motions vain,
And gently, without word, moved to his side.
There Rachel with her kerchief wiped the tears
With strokes as of caress, so loving light;
But Ruth, observing for a moment, turned
With token to Eunicé, quick of heart
To understand, who hastening lightly thence
A laver full of water brought, wherefrom
The mother washed the forehead and the face,
As had that agéd man her father been,
Then dried them with a towel clean and sweet.
Not once the while would Shimei lift the lids
That trembled shutting over his dim eyes:
Strange new emotion made him shrink from seeing—
Shame, and a tenderness of gratitude,
And love, that, with wing-footed Memory,
Ran backward to his boyhood and there fell
With tears and kisses on his mother's neck—
Remembered, she, a woman—such as these!

The squalid wretchedness of his estate
Forgotten, and its utter hopelessness,
Was it not blesséd, only thus to lie
Ministered to as if he were beloved
Of some one, he who long had no one loved!
Melted like wax within him was his heart,
And when at length they spoke to him, and said,
"Thy hands too, if we might too wash thy hands!"
And when, he neither yes nor no with word
Or sign replying, they, with yes assumed,
Did it, assuaging with all healing heed
The hurts and bruises of the chafing chains,
Then the old man with a convulsive wrench
Turned his whole frame averse from them to hide
The tears that streamed in rivers from his eyes.
"And this they do for love of their Lord Christ!"—
Such muffled words, sobbed out amid his tears
And shaken with the throbs that shook his frame,
Those women seemed to hear from Shimei's lips.
"Lo, Jesus, wilt thou master also me?
I cannot bear the pressure of this love!
Crushed am I under it into the babe
Indeed I dreamed just now I was become!"
So Shimei to himself, in words more clear
With the abating passion of his sobs,
Spoke plaintive with the accents of a child.

A start of tears responsive orbed the eyes
Of Ruth and Rachel at such token shown
Of gracious change in Shimei; grateful tears
They were, and hopeful, and each tear a prayer—
How prevalent, who knows?—for Shimei.
God, in His lachrymary urn reserved
To long remembrance, treasures up such tears!

Paul, at remove with Stephen, beholding all,
Felt a great pang and passion of desire
To bear some part and render a testimony
Of love and of forgiveness toward this man,
Yea, of sweet will to be forgiven and loved
By him in turn, that Shimei needs must trust.
He thought of how the Lord, that extreme night
In which He was betrayed, He knowing well
The Father had given all things into His hands,
And He was come from God and went to God,
Rose from the supper, disarrayed Himself—
As if so laying His majesty aside
To clothe Himself in mightier majesty
Of meekness, with the servant's towel girded!—
Then, pouring water in the basin, kneeled,
Girded in fashion as a menial, kneeled.
The Lord Himself of life and glory kneeled,
Washing and wiping his disciples' feet!
And Judas, Paul remembered, was among them!
"This is my time," said he, "my time at last;
Shimei will not resist nor say me nay,
And I, with mine own hands, will wash his feet."
But Stephen said: "Lo, I have hated him
More wickedly than any, I beseech
Mine uncle let me do this thing to him.
Shimei will know I do it for thy sake,
And it will be to him as if thou didst it."
So, Paul allowing it for his nephew's sake,
Glad to confirm him in that gentleness,
Stephen a ewer of water made haste to bring,
And there amid them all admiring him
Known to have hated Shimei so, he stooped,
With a most beautiful behavior stooped—
Not without qualms of lothness overcome,
Considering he how swift those feet had been,
How swift those agéd feet, how long, had been,
To shed blood, and what blood to shed how swift!—
And dutifully washed and wiped them clean.

The old man now lay utterly relapsed,
Exhausted his capacity to feel,
Resistance therefore, and even reaction, none,
A state suspended between life and death;
So had the vehemence of his passion wrought
On Shimei's weakness to disable him.
The women with sure instinct knew his need;
They lightly on him laid one covering more,
For now the coolness of the night was nigh,
And again wished for him the gift of sleep.
And again Shimei slept, to wake refreshed
Then when the moonless sky was bright with stars,
Stars that not more intently over all
Watched, than those faithful had watched over him.
Refection from their hands, both heedful meet
And choicest possible to case like theirs,
Strengthened the faster for a night-long sleep,
Which with the morning brought him back himself,
A self with pity and terror purified,
But better purified with thanks and love.

So, lapt in a delightsome consciousness,
Half haze, a kind of infant consciousness,
Of being changed to other than before,
Shimei slid sweetly on in reverie—
No words, nay, thoughts even not, pure reverie;
But if that mist of musing in his mind
Had into thoughts, like star-dust into stars,
Been orbed, their purport such as this had been:
'I miss it, and I feel that I should grope
Vainly to find in me the power that once
Was ever mine to be my proper self.
All standing-ground seems melted under me,
Planted whereon I might with hope resist.
It is all emptiness, all nothingness
About me, I am utter helplessness.
Yet somehow it is blesséd helplessness!
Let Him do with me as He will, Who now
Is dealing thus with me through these! O ye,
His ministers, O, holy women, ye,
Behold, I give myself through you to Him!
Ye have conquered me for Him at last with love.
No weapons have I to withstand such might.
Tell Paul that he and ye have overcome
For that both he and ye were overcome
Yourselves first by the love that made you love
Even me, even me, even me, grown gray in sin,
Such sin, amid such light, against such love!
Forgive ye me, forgive, forgive, forgive,
And pray ye all that I may be forgiven
Of Him to Whom henceforth, unworthy I
To be at all accepted to such thrall,
I give myself forever up a slave!'