"A bold blasphemer!" so, discordant, shrieked
Suddenly Shimei, the spell to break
He feared those simple, solemn, holy words
Again might cast upon the Sanhedrim.
The chance for heaven precarious is on earth
Ever, and now the heavenly chance was lost,
Such counter breath unable to withstand.
Those half-rapt souls reverted to themselves,
And brooked to listen—nay, assent gave they,
Even Saul too gave assent wrung out!—when, next,
"Stripes for his back!" sharply shrilled Shimei;
"Good forty stripes less one may save his soul!
He loves his blasphemy, give him his fill,
Whet him his appetite, make him blaspheme
His own Lord God, the man of Nazareth.
For that thrice damnéd name require from him,
At every lash, an imprecation loud,
On pain of instant death should one curse fail!"
So there with cruel blows was scourged the man,
At every blow he crying out aloud
Joy that he might thus suffer for that Name,
And, baffled, they gnashing their teeth on him.
"His madness has infected all his flesh,"
Screamed Mattathias; "cure there is but one.
Destroy his flesh with stones, let his flesh rot!"
This also they, beside themselves with rage,
Rage rabid from the sight of bloodshed vain,
Resolved—resolving with them likewise Saul!
Without the gate they thrust their victim forth,
And there stoned him calling upon the name
Of Jesus to his last expiring breath.
That night, the violated body, left
There where it fell by those his murderers
To be of ravening beast or bird the prey,
Was thence, with reverent rite, by unseen hands
Borne to a sepulchre, with spices wrapt
In linen pure and fine, and laid away
In secret, not unwept or unbewailed
Of such as loved him for the love he bore,
Quenchless by death, to the Belovéd Name.