The aged Gamaliel has his wish and enjoys a prolonged interview with the prisoner Paul in the castle where the latter is confined—young Stephen being present. The result is Gamaliel's conversion to Christianity; but this is followed by the old man's peaceful death on the couch where he had been resting while he talked. So peaceful is the death that, in the darkness of the late evening, Paul and young Stephen are not aware that it has occurred.
PAUL AND GAMALIEL.
His eye now dim, as too his natural force
Abated—for the long increase of years,
Each lightly like a gentle white snow-shower
Descending on his shoulders scarcely felt,
Grew a great weight at length that his tall form
Stooped, and his steps made gradually slow—
Gamaliel, stayed in hand by Stephen, walked,
Gazed on of all with worship where he passed
Gathering the salutations of the street,
Meet revenue of his reverend age and fame,
Until he entered at Antonia gate.
Paul met his master with a welcoming kiss,
Then led him forward to a couch, whereon
The aged man his limbs to rest composed.
There kneeling by him, Paul upon his neck
Wept in warm tears the pathos of his love.
"O great and gentle master of my youth,
Rabban Gamaliel, Saul, in many things
Other than he was erst, is still the same
In his old love and loyalty to thee!"
Such words Paul found, when he his heart could tame
From inarticulate passion into speech.
"Yea, changed, my son, in many things art thou,"
Gravely Gamaliel framed reply to Paul,
"In many things changed, and in some things much.
Thou too, my son, art older grown, like me—
Nay, like me, not. Thou art but older; I,
Past being older, now am truly old.
Yet old art thou beyond thy proper years;
Life has been more than lapse of time to thee,
To bleach the youthful raven of thy locks
To such a whiteness as of whited wool;
And all thine aspect is of winter age,
Closed without autumn on short summer time.
It should not grieve me, but indeed it grieves,
To see thee thus before thy season old.
I could have wished to live myself in thee,
Hereafter, a long life of use again,
As that good Hillel lived—not worthily—
Again in me, Gamaliel, hastening hence,
I now, less happy, none inheriting me.
As my soul's son, O Saul, I counted thee,
Thee, chosen of all my pupils to such kin;
That thou, of all, shouldst separate thyself
From the good part, and from thy father's side,
To choose thy lot with aliens and with foes!
What ruin of what hope! Already now,
The prime, the flower, the glory, of the strength
Unmatchable for promise that was Saul,
Spent, squandered, irrecoverably waste!
Nor this even yet the worst; for, worse than waste,
Saul has all used to rend what was to mend,
To scatter what to gather need was sore,
And what asked wise upbuilding to pull down.
O Saul, Saul, Saul, my son, what hast thou wrought!
O Israel, O my people, this from Saul!"
The old man shook, ceasing, with tearless sobs,
And in hands trembling hid his face from Paul.
Paul silently a moment bowed himself—
Like blinded Samson leaning hard against
The pillars of the palace of the lords
Philistine, so Paul bowed himself against
The pillars of Gamaliel's house of trust,
In one great throe and agony of prayer;
Then said: "O thou hoar head most reverend,
My master, how those words of thine pierce me!
Far, far more easily have I born all ills,
Though many and heavy, that on me have fallen,
Than now such words I hear of pained reproach,
Thrice grievous as thus gracious, from thy lips.
How shall I find wherewith to answer thee?
I think thou knowest, my master, that I love
My nation, and a thousand times would die
To save from death my kindred in the flesh.
Not willingly do I seem even to rend
The oneness of my people so asunder.
Scatter I do not, if I seem to scatter:
I sift and choose, and cast the bad away;
That is not scattering, it is gathering rather.
Nor is it I do this, but by me God.
Reprobate silver still some souls will be,
And rightly so men call them, for the Lord,
He hath rejected them, the judging Lord.
This is that word of Malachi fulfilled—
Whom also thou, O master, once, inspired
Perhaps, beyond our dreaming, from the Lord,
Recalledst, when our seventy elders sat
Consulting how most prudently they might
Slay those apostles of the Nazarene.
Thou warnedst us more wisely than our hearts
Were meekly wise enough, enough to heed.
For, 'The Lord cometh,' saidst thou then, and, 'Who
Of us,' thou askedst, 'who of us shall bide
The day of that approach?' 'Not surely he,'
Thou answeredst, prophet-wise, 'surely not he,
Then found in arms against God and His Christ.'
And did not Malachi foretell that He,
The Angel of the covenant, should sit
As a refiner and a purifier,
To purge the sons of Levi of their dross?
So sits He now, attending in the heavens,
Until appear a people purified,
Israel gathered out of Israel,
A chosen peculiar people for Himself.
"Thou knowest how I hated once this name,
And persecuted to the death His church.
I raged against Jehovah; mad and blind,
On the thick bosses of His buckler rushed.
But He, Jehovah, met me in the way
With His sword drawn and slew me where I stood.
One stroke, like living lightning, and I fell;
Saul was no more, but in his stead was Paul."
Paul therewith paused, awaiting; for he saw
A motion change the listener's attitude.
Gamaliel turned toward Paul, and looked at him,
A grave, a sad, inquiry in the gaze.
"What dost thou mean?" almost severely he,
With something of his magisterial wont,
Inveterate, in the gesture of his eye
And in his tone expressed, now said to Paul:
"What dost thou mean? Thou riddlest thus with me.
The Lord slew thee, then made alive again
Not thy slain self, but some new other man!
Meet is it thou shouldst speak in parable
Thus to thy master in his hoary age?
Plain, and forthwith, what meanest thou, son Saul?"