The Epic of Saul

by William Cleaver Wilkinson

In words like these his prayer and plaint he poured:
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Will
Jehovah cast us off forevermore?
We groan, O Lord, Thy people groan, beneath
The yoke of the oppressor. It is time,
Lo, bow Thy heavens and come avenging down!
Appear Thou for Thy people! Visit us!
Not only the uncircumcised are come,
And heathen, into Thine inheritance,
But of Thy chosen seed are risen up
False children unto Abraham, to vex
Our nation's peace and shame us to our foes.
The son of Joseph suffered his desert,
Accurséd, on the tree, pretender vile,
Who out of Nazareth came forth to claim
Messiahship, the gift of David's line,
And trailed a glorious banner in the dust,
The banner of the hope of Israel.
That day, too long expected, yet shall dawn
And true Messiah, girded on His thigh
His sword athirst for alien blood, shall ride
Conquering and to conquer over all
The necks of these His enemies and ours.
How long, Lord God of Sabaoth, how long?
For now that hated false Messiah's name
Is preached, the dead for re-arisen to life,
The crucified for glorified, to men,
And Ichabod is written everywhere
On all that was the boast of Israel.
O Thou that overthrewest the harrying horde
Of Pharaoh whelmed beneath the entombing sea,
Rise, overwhelm Thine enemies, restore
The glory and the kingdom to Thine own!"

Gamaliel prayed, and knew not that his prayer
Found voice and smote at least an earthly ear.
"Amen!" Gamaliel started as he heard
The voice of Saul responding fervently.
Saul had been pupil to Gamaliel,
Loyal and loving, and he now was friend
Familiar, whom, as guest, unbidden oft
And unannounced, that famous Pharisee
Welcomed to share his most seclusive hours.
"My son!" "Rabboni!" mutually they said.

The younger to the elder now had come,
A thought to purpose quickening in his breast.
He too was Hebrew patriot, and he yearned
With anguish like his master's, yet at once
Sharper than his, and more accessible
To hope, as well his livelier youth became
And native blood more nimble in his veins—
Saul also, with Gamaliel, yearned and burned,
Beholding prone his country in the dust,
Under the grinding heel of Roman power—
And Messianic glory turned to shame!
Saul's first wish was to bring his brethren back
Stung to their pristine, proud, prophetic hope
Of a Messiah born to regal robes,
Swaying a sceptre, seated on a throne,
Crowned with a crown of myriad diadems,
Symbol of lordship that should myriad tribes
Mass in one mighty empire of mankind.
He felt the soul of eloquence astir
Within him, and he longed to be at war,
In words that flamed like lightning and that smote
Like thunder-stones, against those grovelling men
Who Israel taught to grovel at the feet
Of Galilæan Jesus crucified,
Accepted for the Christ, forsooth, of God!
Such wish, becoming purpose, Saul has brought
This evening to Gamaliel, with high hope,
Hope high, but vain, to disappointment doomed,
Of grateful gratulant words to hearten him,
Approving and applauding his desire,
Won from the wisest in Jerusalem.

Thus minded, Saul, blithe, eager, sanguine, bold,
With yet a grace of filial in his mien,
As toward a master had in love and fear,
Said:
"Teacher, what I came to learn from thee,
Already, having marked thy prayer, I know.
God hear thee out of Zion in thy prayer!
God bring to naught the counsels of His foes!
Now know I, and rejoice to know, that thou,
My teacher in the blessed law, wilt say,
'God speed thee, son,' in what I seek to do.
For, lo, I seek to serve the suffering cause
Of truth wounded and bleeding in the street.
Love of my country burns me as with flame
Imprisoned and living in my very bones—
My country, and my countrymen. This land
To me is lovely like a bride beloved—
Beloved the more, unutterably wronged!
Her trodden dust is dear to me. Not I,
As do my brethren on her bosom born,
Equably love her with composed and calm
Affection sweet. That homesick longing bred
With boyhood in Cilicia haunts me yet,
To heighten love with anguish, and more dear
Make the dear soil of this my fatherland.
A passion, not a fondness, is my love;
And for my countrymen to die, were sweet—
Such blind abandonment of love usurps
My being for my kinsmen in the flesh.
Would God I might in very deed pour out
This blood, no vain oblation, to redeem
My bondmen brethren and to purge this land!"

In speech no farther—though in passionate tears
The strong man vented still his else choked heart.
Gamaliel, with wise senior sympathy,
Sat silent, waiting till that burst were past.
Then gravely:
"Yea, my son, I know thy zeal,
And praise it. Such as thou, in number more,
Might somewhat; such as thou, alas, are few."

His master's praise Saul took as check and chill,
Uttered with that insinuated sense
Of sage discountenance to his youthful zeal.
He shrank, but braced himself, and gently said:
"But, father, not by many or by few
Is our God bound to working. Many or few
To Him is one. Nay, were there none save me,
Were I alone among my brethren, I,
Alone among my brethren, yet would dare."

Against the vernal aspiration warm
Of Saul's young blood and tropic temperament
Gamaliel's aged, wise, sententious phlegm,
And magisterial manner though benign,
Abode unmoved, inert, insensible;
Like an ice-Alp that freezes on its cheek
A breath of spring soft blowing from the south.
With viscid slow demur the old man spoke,
And downcast heavily shook his hoary head:
"To dare is cheap and common with our race,
We are few dastards; did not Judas dare?
And Theudas? But their daring came to naught.
Wisdom with daring, fortitude to wait,
We need, son Saul; the daring that must do,
And cannot wait, has wrought us sumless ill."

Damped, but remonstrant, Saul still plied his plea:
"And yet but now, 'How long,' I heard thee cry,
'How long, Lord God of Sabaoth, how long?'"

"Yea," said Gamaliel, "that I daily cry."

"Thy counsel and thy praying how agree?"