"Tell her I will consult my oracle,"
Nero maliciously replied; "and say
My oracle is a lady, hence will know
Better than I should dare pretend I can
What would be fit in such peculiar case.
As fountain prime of justice to my realm,
I own I have some scruples in this thing—
Whether it were ideal right and good
To barter sentences of life and death
Simply that I may please a lady fair,
And be a favored suitor at her court.
"But I perhaps will toss a die and see
What chance will say; chance is a prudent god,
And, in his seeming-random way, is right
As oft as wisdom with his reasons weighed:
Besides I can keep on throwing, till the turn
Pleases my fancy of the moment. Go,
Solemn ambassador from court to court,
Report what I have said, but give a wink
At end to mean thou guessest all is well."
Simon, retiring, soon Poppæa sought,
And, with dark hint and indirection, told
How he had dropped into the emperor's ear
A seed of such suggestion as, he thought,
Would quickly spring and blossom and bear fruit
To the advantage of her dearest wish:
It would but need attaint Octavia's faith
As consort of the emperor, and so,
By open operation of the law,
Set her aside and leave him lorn of wife.
The acclamation of the people then
Would join the emperor's own desire to fill
Octavia's vacant room with—whom but one?
But would Poppæa help him in one thing?
He greatly wished to give the emperor proof
Of what he could accomplish in his art
Of conjuring with weird supernatural powers;
He thought his weight as intermediary
In her behalf would be increased thereby.
Poppæa, promising to stir up the mind
Of Nero to a proper appetite
For Simon's thaumaturgy, let him go.
While such fruits in the dark were growing ripe,
Things in the open looked the self-same way.
Stephen, who daily scouted in the world
Without of Rome, its rumor, its event,
Brought thence one day to Paul ill-boding word:
"Burrus is dead, that just man; how he died,
Whether of sickness, poison, suicide,
No man can say—or rather all men say,
Some, one thing, some, another; doubtful all.
But two men take his place in prefecture,
One, Tigellinus—baser none than he:
I doubt thou wilt come to feel his heavy hand.
Then that vile woman Poppæa, so they say,
Has become Jewish proselyte, forsooth.
Wherefore? No doubt, colluding with Drusilla—
The wicked Simon with his sorcery,
And with his office low of go-between,
Egging them on—to be Jews good enough,
The three together, to act in Shimei's place
As thine accusers to the emperor.
O, my heart sinks in doubt and fear for thee!"
"It need not, Stephen; my heart is buoyant," Paul
Said to his nephew in calm and firm reply.
"Nothing can fall out from the order fair
Of God's will for His chosen and well-beloved;
All things together work for good to them."
"All things?" said Stephen; "Lord, increase my faith!"
For he hung staggered at the paradox.
"O, yea, all things, exception none," said Paul.
But hardly had been uttered those strong words,
When, in the door, rudely burst open, stood
Two arméd minions of the prefecture.
"Wanted, for torture on the witness-rack"—
One of these spoke in strident tones and hard—
"Onesimus, a Phrygian runaway,
Slave of the late lord Felix, harbored here.
Point out the rogue; we are under strait command,
And Tigellinus will brook no delay.
Ah, there he is—he has betrayed himself—
White as a corpse; were he as innocent!
Come, rascal, and cheer thee up, thou art to have
Thy Syrus for a fellow on the rack."
With rally such, in coarsest irony,
They hurried off Onesimus to doom—
Scarce time to Paul for breathing in his ear
To bid him in the strength of Christ be strong.
"O, uncle, 'all things' to Onesimus,
Him also, in a fearful stead like this?"
Said Stephen, in vicarious agony.
"Would I could take his stead for him!" said Paul.
"I cannot, but Christ can, and will—nay, did,
Then when He suffered all on Calvary.
Pray for Onesimus that he his trust
Withdraw not from the Lord who thus proves him—
And pray for Syrus that his faith fail not.
Now, O Lord Jesus, in Gethsemane
And on the bitter cross of Calvary
Thyself so anguished once in that frail flesh
Thou worest for our sake—that Thou mightst suffer!—
Help, help, thy servants in their sudden hour."
The soldier that was manacled to Paul
Wondered, but reverenced, when these things he heard.