The Indian bent on Mary telling all
A fixed and eager heed that veiled itself,
As wont was to this devotee of Buddh,
Under a mask of face expressionless.
He quenched in silence of quick second thought
Impulses strong to speak and quit himself
Of doubts and questions starting in his mind.
He abode mute, and Mary, after pause
Filled to each one with various thought, resumed
"How glad was I, and grateful, when the Lord
Permitted me, with other women too
Healed by Him of distresses like to mine,
To follow, in the ways of Galilee,
His footsteps as He went from place to place
On His unending rounds of doing good!
He had not where to lay His head, was poor
Though making many rich; and it was joy
Unspeakable to us to minister
Out of our substance to His daily needs.
'Give to us day by day our daily bread,'
The prayer was that He taught us. God through us
Answered that prayer to Him and we were glad!
"Not all those whom he cleansed of spirits foul
Inhabiting and defiling them did He
Permit to follow with Him as they wished.
One man, perhaps as sorely vexed as I,
Being healed, entreated leave to stay with Him.
It may be there was some defect of faith,
Whence fear in him lest he, not with the Lord,
Might again be invaded by that host
Of wicked angels whom he 'Legion' called,
And Jesus out of kindness was austere,
To exercise him to a better trust
Needing not crutch of sight to stay itself.
I know not; this I know, and rest content,
He doeth all things well, His choice is wise.
The Master sent that man away, and bade:
'Return to thine own house and publish there
How great things God hath done to thee.' He went
And filled that favored city with the fame.
Who knows? It may have been a better lot,
More blesséd, to sound forth the Savior's praise
And thus prepare him welcome among men,
As did that healed demoniac, than to be,
As I was, near His person in the flesh.
But nay, nor more nor less, no difference, all
Is equal, and all blesséd perfectly,
To all that simply meet His blesséd will!"
Some subtle charm of eloquence, made up
The listener thought not how, thought not indeed
That there was any charm of eloquence—
Manner perhaps, a flexure of the voice,
Accent of clear simplicity with depth,
A strand of pathos braided into it,
The capture of an all-subduing eye—
These things in her, but more than these, herself,
Say rather the Spirit of God inhabiting her,
Made Mary speaking irresistible.
Krishna did not withstand the undoing spell,
But yielded more and more, as still she spoke:
"O, it was dreadful to behold his case,
That demon-ridden man's! No clothes he wore,
But fetters and chains instead, which could not bind
His frantic strength to hold him anywhere.
Like a wild beast in lair he lived abroad
Housed but in rocky hollows of the hills.
No man dared pass his way, so fierce was he,
Cutting himself with stones among the tombs.
When he saw Jesus coming, still far off,
He ran toward Him and prostrate worshipped Him,
Crying with a most lamentable voice:
'Lo, what have I to do with thee, O Thou
Jesus, Thou Son of God Most High? I plead
And I adjure Thee by the name of God
That thou torment me not!' For Christ had said,
'Thou unclean spirit, come thou forth from him!'
'What is thy name?' asked Jesus; and he said:
'Legion, for we are many.'
"What was strange
Then happened; for the demons prayed from Christ
To be not wholly banished from the land.
'Send us,' they cried, 'into the swine'—for near
Were feeding a great herd of swine—and Christ
Gave them their whim to enter into them.
Wherefore, I cannot tell; the Sadducees
Among our people had no faith in spirits,
Angels or demons; so it may have been
To show it no mere foolish fancy vain,
As they, the Sadducees, had taught it was,
That there are wicked beings, other than we,
Unseen and spiritual, errant in the world,
And that these sometimes truly may invade
The holy of holies of the human mind,
That sanctuary meant for God's indwelling,
And wrest it to their own foul purposes.
No Sadducee I trow had Sadducee
Remained, that saw that day the hideous rout
Made when those swine, two thousand hoofs together,
Rushed headlong down the lakeside precipice
To perish in the waters; reason none,
Save that the demons had gone into them.
It was not sudden assault of epilepsy;
"Those swine at least did not imagine it all!"—
Over the face of Mary speaking now
A moment of sarcastic humor played—
"A woman herself possessed, then dispossessed,
Of demon inhabitants, may be forgiven
A little natural scorn to be assured
That she was only shaken in her wits!"
And Mary so recovered with a smile
The sweet and holy candor of her face.
But now an interruption—for there came
Rudely, from Felix sent, a minion who,
With little Felix following him, to Paul
Drew nigh and said: "My master bids thee come,
For Simon whom he honors has fallen sick,
And he would have thee heal him." Summons such
Delivered in curt wise so insolent,
Betrayed the master through the messenger.
"Go tell thy master that I come," said Paul;
"Go thou, but leave the lad to come with me."
So Paul took little Felix by the hand,
He well-pleased equally to stay or go
In that benign companionship, and went.
But first Paul said: "Perhaps the afternoon
Already is far spent enough, the cool
And damp of evening will draw on apace;
To-morrow, if God will—and Mary please—
Our hearing of her tale may be renewed."
They, thus dispersed, and slowly following, saw
Paul like a guardian angel in the guise
Of a serene old man and venerable
Lead on the boy and heed his prattling talk.
He had the ruffled spirits of his friends,
Indignant all at Felix's affront,
Composed with only his superior pure
Detached Christ-like serenity and calm.