Again deeply distressed in heart, Saul at set of sun withdraws to the top of Olivet for solitary thought. There falling asleep, after pensive soliloquy, he dreams that Shimei has followed him thither, and that he now pours a characteristic strain of sneer and instigation into his ear. This rouses him, and he goes moodily home. After a long, deep slumber there, he resolves on undertaking what he dreamed that Shimei proposed, namely, the arrest of the apostles. His men fail him at the pinch, and Saul bitterly upbraids them, declaring strongly that their renegade behavior only determines him the more sternly to root utterly out the pestilent Galilæan heresy, at whatever cost of exertion and blood and tears.
SAUL AND THE APOSTLES.
So one day more of bitterness had spent
Saul, and the night, the solemn night, came on,
Grateful to him, for he would be alone.
Whether the thought of home, no home, repelled,
Or longing toward his sister unconfessed
There in that banishment at Bethany
Bright with her presence in it—whether this
Drew him, or wish of lonely room and height
Where more he might from human kind be far—
However listing, Saul to Olivet
Turned him, and slowly to the summit climbed.
The moon not risen yet, the hemisphere
Of heaven above him was with clustered stars
Glittering, and awful with the glory of God.
Upward into those lucid azure deeps,
Withdrawn, deep beyond deep, immeasurably,
Gazing, Saul said: "Deep calleth unto deep!
Those deeps above me unto deeps within
Me cry, as infinite to infinite.
The spaces of my spirit answer back;
I feel them, empty but capacious, vast
And void abysses of unfed desire,
Hunger eternal and eternal thirst!
Upward I gaze, and see the steadfast stars
Unshaken in their station calmly shine,
I listen to the silence of the skies
And yearn, with what desire! for peace like that,
Vainly, with what desire! for peace like that!
Beneath the pure calm of the holy heaven,
So nigh! here am I seething like the sea,
That cannot rest, casting up mire and dirt
Continually! O state forlorn! Where, where,
My God, for me is rest? For me, for me!
'Great peace have they,' so sang that psalmist taught
By Thee, 'Great peace have they that love Thy law
And nothing shall offend them.' Answer me,
Lord God, do I not love Thy law? Then why
This opposite of peace within my breast?
Am I deceived? Do not I love Thy law?
Answer me Thou!"
But answer came there none,
Or Saul was deaf, and the great sky looked down,
With all its multitude of starry eyes,
Impassible, upon a human soul
Wretched, unrespited from long unrest.
The weary man upon a spot of ground
Bare to the heaven had thrown himself supine;
Lying diffuse, his wistful face upturned,
And poring on the starry-scriptured scroll
Above him, he such thoughts breathed out in words.
He had deemed himself alone, aloof from men;
But seemed had scarce his murmurous monotone
Died on his lips, he skyward gazing still,
When he was conscious of approaching feet,
Feet all at once so nigh, they in the dark
Touched him ere he could rouse himself to stand.
'Why, brother Saul! I stumble on you here,
Much as this morn you stumbled over me!'
Such, to the sleeping man, a voice seemed borne.
'Those odious false-cheery tones once more!
Shimei has watched, and, hither following me,
Lurked overhearing my soliloquy;
Then, stealthily retiring a few steps,
Comes back, as with the brisk and frank advance
Of one somewhither walking at full speed,
And stumbles against me of purpose rude!'
So Saul divined dissembling Shimei,
Who said, or to Saul, dreaming, seemed to say—
Vision as life-like as reality:
"How naturally appear our paths to cross!
I thought that I would take a casual stroll
Alone, and you the same thought had, it seems,
At the same time, directed both, odd too,
The self-same way—another proof, you see,
What kindred spirits we are!
"You must have marked
How fine the night is! What a wealth of stars!
Do you not sometimes wish, Saul, you could be
As comfortably calm at heart as stars?
How wonderfully quiet all is there,
Up in the region of the firmament!
Probably stars have nothing else to do
Than to be calm like that, and smile at us
Fretting ourselves down here with worry and work.
Worry is worse than work to wear us out.
But worst of all is having huge desires
That nothing in the world can satisfy.
Some men moon sighing for they know not what,
Mainly great hollow hungry mouths and maws,
Like void sea-beds; abysses of desire,
You know, that not the world itself could fill.
Better close up your heart than stretch it wide
And never get enough to make it full.
Adjust yourself, say I, to circumstance,
Hard work adjusting circumstance to you!
There's nothing better than to go right on
Doing the obvious duty next to hand,
And let the stars pursue their peaceful way,
As hindered not, so envied not, by you.
The sky is calm, no doubt—the upper sky—
But happens we do not live in the sky,
But on the earth, a very different place,
And man's work we, not star's work, have to do;
So let us be about it while we may.
"For instance now, to bring the matter home
(I trust I shall not seem officious, Saul,
I really must make one suggestion more),
Your pristine prestige has been much impaired
Through slips and ill-successes on your part.
No mean advantage to a man, repute
For what the godless Romans call 'good luck,'
Piously we, 'the favor of the Lord';
This is forsaking you, I grieve to find,
On all sides round, wherever I inquire.
Up, and recover it with one bold push,
Push that dares hazard all upon a cast.
You know twelve men there are in special sort
Dubbed the 'apostles' of the Nazarene,
Who play a part assigned as witnesses
To testify that Jesus rose again,
After his crucifixion, from the dead.
These fellows boldly in Jerusalem
Stay, while the rest run scattering far and wide.
Some kind of superstitious charm or awe
Surrounds them—that is, in their own conceit
And fond illusion of impunity.
Boldly arrest them, Saul, and spoil the spell."