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Paul is arraigned before the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem. He had the day preceding been murderously set upon by a Jewish mob, from whose hands he was with difficulty rescued by a Roman officer, to be held as a prisoner supposed of infamous character. While Paul is thus held, a conspiracy of desperate Jews is formed by Shimei against his life. This conspiracy is fortunately discovered and exposed by Stephen, a young nephew of the apostle, acting at the instance of his mother Rachel, Paul's sister, and under the advice of Gamaliel, Paul's old teacher.

THE EPIC OF PAUL.

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.

The Sanhedrim once more, with Saul arraigned,

Saul now no longer, and no longer young,

Paul his changed name, to note his nature changed.

Confronting frown on him, a prisoner,

Paul's colleagues of the days when he was Saul.

Shimei, with smile, or scowl, uncertain which,

Hatred and pleasure both at once expressed,

Pleasure of hatred gratified, with more

Hatred than could be wholly gratified—

His pristine aspect worse and worse deformed.

Sore vexed at heart were all the Sanhedrim

That now the victim of their wished despite—

Thrice the more hated as erst so beloved,

Christian apostate the once zealot Jew!—

Stood there but doubtfully within their power;

The Roman sway had cited him—and them.

For, yesterday, Paul in the temple-court

Had with fierce violence been set upon

By Jews who thought the holy place profaned

Through his unlawful bringing thither in

Of gentile Greeks—had there been set upon

And thence dragged forth with blows that purposed death.

But, as when Stephen suffered, so again

Now intervened the Roman, and this time

Forbade the turbulence and rescued Paul—

Rescued, but double-bound his hands with chains.

Demanding then who was the prisoner,

And what his crime, and nothing learning clear

Amid the hubbub loud of various charge,

The Roman chiliarch was conducting Paul

Into the castle, by the soldiers borne—

Hardly so wrested from the eager hands

Of those enraged who thirsted for his blood,

And rent the air crying, "Away with him!"—

When calmly to his captor-savior, he

Addressed himself and asked, "May I to thee

A few words speak?" "Greek understandest thou?"

Exclaimed the Roman. "Art thou then not he,

Not that Egyptian, who but late stirred up

Sedition, and into the wilderness

Led out a company four thousand strong

Of the Assassins?" "I a Hebrew am,"

Said Paul, "of Tarsus in Cilicia,

Of no mean city citizen. Let me,

I pray thee, speak unto the multitude."

Permitted, Paul, upon the castle stairs

Standing, stretched forth his hand in manacles

Unto the tumult surging at his feet,

And, a great silence fallen upon those waves,

Spoke in the Hebrew tongue to them and said:

"Brethren and fathers, my defence hear ye."

(The silence deepened at the Hebrew words.)

"A Jew am I, who, though in Tarsus born,

Was in this city bred and at the feet

Of that Gamaliel taught the ancestral law

With every scruple of severity,

Burning in zeal for God, as now do ye.

And I this Way hunted unto the death,

Sparing from chains and from imprisonment

Nor man nor woman. This will the high priest

Witness, and all the Jewish eldership.

By these commissioned, to Damascus I

Journeyed, that, thence even, I might hither bring

For punishment disciples of the Way.

And lo, as, journeying, nigh Damascus now

I drew, at noonday round about me shone

Suddenly a great light from heaven. To earth

Prostrate I fell, and heard a voice that said,

'Saul, Saul, why art thou persecuting me?'

'Thou, thou—who art thou, Lord?' I said. And He:

'Jesus I am, Jesus of Nazareth,

Whom thou art persecuting.' Those with me

Beheld indeed the light, but to the voice

That spake to me were deaf. And I then said,

'What wilt thou, Lord, that I should do?' 'Arise,'

Said He, 'and on into Damascus go;

What thou must do shall there to thee be told.'

Blind-smitten with the glory of the light,

Into Damascus guided by the hand

I came.

"There, Ananias, a devout

Observer of the law, of good renown

With all the Hebrew Damascenes, found me.

I felt him, though I saw him not, as he

Paused standing there before me, and these words

Spake: 'Brother Saul, receive thy sight.' And I,

That selfsame hour my sight receiving, fixed

My eyes on Ananias, when he said:

'The God of our forefathers hath of thee

Made choice His will to know and to behold

The Righteous One and from His mouth a voice

To hear. For, witness shalt thou be for Him

To all men of the things thou hast beheld

And heard. And now why lingerest thou? Arise

And be baptized and wash away thy sins,

Calling upon His name.'

"Thereafter I,

Unto Jerusalem returned, and here

Within the temple praying, into trance

Passed, and beheld Him, as to me He said:

'Haste, from Jerusalem to go make speed,

For witness will they not from thee receive

Concerning Me.' 'But, Lord,' said I, 'they know

Themselves how I, of all men I, imprisoned

And scourged from synagogue to synagogue

Them that on Thee believed. And when was shed

Thy martyr Stephen's blood, I, also I,

Stood near, consenting, and their garments kept

Who slew him.' But the Lord to me replied:

'Depart, for I will send thee forth far hence

In mission to the Gentiles—"

To this word

The throng to Paul gave patient ear, but now—

At sign and instigation, ambushed erst

In waiting for the moment meet to spring,

And springing pregnant from the ready wit

Of Shimei, when that hateful hint was heard

Of mission to the Gentiles through a Jew—

Rose an uproar of voices from the crowd,

As when winds mingle sea and sky in storm.

"Away with such a fellow from the earth!"

They cried; "it is not fit that he should live."

A wild scene, for with outcry wild was mixed

Wild gesture; the whole madding multitude

Rent off their raiment, and into the air

Dust flung in cloud as where a whirlwind roars.

Astonished stood the chiliarch at the sight,

Nor doubted that some monster was the man

Against whom such a storm of clamor raged.

He bade bring Paul within the castle, there

Bade scourge him that he might his crime confess.

Already they had bound him for the thongs,

When Paul to the centurion standing by

Said, "Is it lawful for you then to scourge

A man that is a Roman—uncondemned?"

This the centurion hearing, straightway he

Went to the chiliarch and abrupt exclaimed:

"What is it thou art on the point to do?

For this man is a Roman." Then to Paul

Hastens the chiliarch and, perturbed, inquires:

"Tell me, art thou a Roman?" "Yea," said Paul.

Surprised, incredulous half, the chiliarch cried:

"I with an ample sum that franchise bought."

"But I," calmly said Paul, "was thereto born."

At that word from their prisoner, the men

Who ready round him stood the lash to ply

Instantly vanished, and the chiliarch too

Was panic-stricken—now in doubt no more

That Paul a Roman was, whom he had bound

For stripes, against a law greater than he,

Nay, sacred as the sacred majesty

Itself of the Republic—ancient name

Disguising empire!—law forbidding stripes

On any flesh that Roman title owned.

Paul slept, in Roman chains, the Christian's sleep,

That night, but ill at ease the chiliarch tossed

In troubled slumbers. He, with early morn,

To council called the Jewish Sanhedrim,

Set Paul unbound before them, and so sought

The truth to know of what on him was charged.

With calmly steadfast eye Paul faced his foes,

But Shimei smiled in confidence of guile;

Whatever the accused might seek to say,

Affront should meet him and torment his pride.

Paul, his fixed eyes pointing his moveless aim

Full in the faces of the elders, said:

"Brethren, in all good conscience have I lived

In loyalty toward God unto this day."

On such a claim from such a prisoner,

Angry the high priest Ananias cried,

"Smite him upon the mouth!" to those near by.

Paul flamed in answering righteous wrath, and said,

Flashing a lightning from his eyes on him:

"Smite thee shall God, thou whited wall! And thou,

Sittest thou here to judge me by the law,

And, the law breaking, biddest me be smitten?"

The bolted word had flown and found its mark,

And Paul stood quivering with the stern recoil.

But the bystanders, tools of Shimei,

In chorus of well-simulated zeal

Of reverence toward authority, cried out:

"The high priest, then, of God revilest thou?"

Tempting the outraged man to further vent

Volcanic of resentment at his wrong.

But Paul had tutored down his rebel will;

Meekly he said: "Brethren, I did not know

That he the high priest was, for it is writ,

'Of one that rules thy people speak not ill.'"

Through such self-recollection and self-rule,

Paul, master of himself once more become,

Became likewise master of circumstance.

Marking that Pharisee and Sadducee

Made up the assembly, he, with prudent choice,

As Pharisee to Pharisee appealed.

"Brethren," he cried, "a Pharisee am I,

From Pharisees descended; for the hope

And resurrection of the dead it is

That I this day am judged."

Discord hereon

Arose of Pharisee with Sadducee,

Which atwain rent the whole assembly there.

For Sadducee no resurrection owned,

No angel, and no spirit; Pharisee

These all confessed. A hideous clamor grew,

And certain scribes, who with the Pharisees

Sided, rose and, contending stoutly, said:

"No evil find we in this man; and if,

And if so be indeed, there hath to him

A spirit spoken, or an angel—" Thus

A hot dissension waxing, and afraid

Become the chiliarch lest his prisoner be

In sunder torn, the soldiery he sent

To pluck him from amidst the wrangling crowd,

And lodge him in the castle.

The next night

The Lord stood in theophany by Paul,

And said: "Be of good cheer; as thou of me

Hast witnessed in Jerusalem, so must

Thou also yet witness in Rome." And Paul

Was of good cheer in glad obedience,

And slept a sleep so leavened with happy dream.

But night-long lonely vigil Shimei kept,

Stung from repose to study of revenge.

At dawn, his hatch of hell, quick by the heat

Of brooding hatred in that patient breast,

Was ready to come forth and stalk abroad.

'Death to apostate Saul!' his public word,

'Death to that hated man!' was Shimei's thought.

Thought not so much, as law to him of thought,

Which formed and fixed the habit of the mind;

His thought was simply, 'How to get Paul slain,'

His feeling was a hatred bent to slay;

Now, bent to slay; once, but to torture bent.

This, partly because hatred is like love

Herein, that it, by only being, grows—

Until, at last, usurping quite the man,

It overgrows him like a polypus;

And partly because plot and act of hate

Sting to find hateful more the hated one,

Hate against whom is so self-justified.

But Shimei's hate of Paul, antipathy

At first, deep, primal, irreversible,

A doom born in him when himself was born,

And thence—from that time forth when in the hall

Of council Saul disdained and flouted him—

A conscious, fostered, festering grudge become—

This hate, now grown by but persisting long,

And much more grown through long self-exercise,

Had yet, beyond the private argument,

Its public ground of warrant for itself.

Mocker though Shimei was, not less was he,

To his full measure of sincerity,

Sincerely in his mockery a Jew;

His nation's scorn of Jesus was his scorn,

And who loved Jesus for that cause he hated.

Buoyed and supported by the spirit rife,

The common conscience, of his countrymen,

Nay, conscious of approval and acclaim

Without him, as of genius blithe within

Him, prompt to indirection and deceit,

Shimei, far more than clear and confident,

Felt also something of the fowler's joy

In cunning, as for Paul his toils he spread.

All this; yet all was not enough to fire

The hate that burned sevenfold in Shimei's breast.

With all, there was an alien element

Infused, Tartarean fuelling from beneath,

A breath of hell to blow his hate so hot.

No merely human hatred crucified

The Lord of glory and the Lord of love!

No merely human hatred followed Paul

On his angelic errand round the world,

With scourge, with ambush, with imprisonment,

And mouth agape to drink that holy blood!

Forty fanatic Jews were quickly found

To bind themselves by a religious oath

Of dreadful imprecation on their heads

Neither to eat nor drink till Paul was slain.

Prompt chance to slay him Shimei promised them;

He would procure that, on the morrow morn,

The chiliarch should desire to quit his doubt

Concerning his strange prisoner, by one more

Test of his cause before the Sanhedrim.

Then, while from the near tower Antonia, Saul

At leisure to their council-hall was brought,

So large a number of sworn arms in league

Might easily, with rash violence, breach their way

To him amid his guard of soldiery,

And, far too suddenly for these to fend,

Spill his life-blood like water on the ground—

Whence could not all the power of Rome again

Gather it up to store his veins withal.

So Shimei plotted, with the guile of hate;

But, with a wiser guile, the guile of love,

There counterplotted a true heart for Paul.

Rachel that ministry of grace had plied

For Ruth by Saul imprisoned, and for those

Of Bethany bound with her—where, meanwhile,

She for Ruth's children happy kept their home—

Month after month, with inexhaustible

Sweet patience and bright heart of hope and brave,

Until, the soul of persecution slain

In Saul converted, they were all let go

Beneath their wonted roofs at peace to dwell;

Rachel first welcoming Ruth safe home once more,

And Ruth then welcoming Rachel still to bide.

But Lazarus, toward Rachel, to and fro

Daily seen moving, with that punctual truth

To tryst so beautiful, more beautiful

In her who was herself so beautiful,

Whose every step, look, gesture, and least speech,

Or very silence, seemed a benison—

Toward Rachel, such beheld—a crescent dawn

Brightening upon him to the perfect day,

Apocalypse of lovely—Lazarus,

In secret, more and more felt his heart drawn,

Through all the dreaming hours he passed in prison.

Released at last, he told his heart to her,

And Rachel learned to yield him love for love;

So, Saul consenting gladly, they were wed.

The eldest-born of Rachel now was grown

A stripling youth, in face and person fair,

Fair spoken, with a winning gift of grace

In manner, and a conscious innocence,

Becoming conscious virtue, written free

In legend over all his lineaments,

Where beamed likewise a bright intelligence,

Alert, beyond such years, with exercise;

For Rachel's had been long a widow's child,

And long that widow's only, as her first.

Stephen they had named their boy—for memory.

It still was dark, deep dark before the dawn,

When Rachel rose from wrestling sleepless dream

To rouse her son from happy dreamless sleep.

"Stephen," said she, "my son, my heart divines

Danger nigh imminent for one we love."

"But, mother," said the son, "mine uncle Paul,

If him thou meanest, is safe in citadel.

Those Romans, heathen though they be, and void

Of pity as the nether millstone is,

Are yet in their hard way, and heathen, just.

They have the power, as they have shown the will,

To keep thy brother hedged from Hebrew hate."

"From Hebrew hate, but not from hellish guile,"

Rachel replied; "and hellish guile, my son,

Thy mother's heart, quickened with sisterhood,

And, from some sad experience of the world,

Suspicious—nay, perhaps, through deep divine

Persuasion by the Holy Spirit wrought,

Intuitive of the future, and on things

Else hidden, inly privileged to look—

Yea, hellish guile, my heart, somehow advised,

Insists and still insists she knows, she feels,

This hour at work against my brother Saul.

Haste, get thee quickly to Gamaliel—

Brief his sleep is, and he will be awake,

For, with his gathering years, now nigh five score,

Lighter and lighter grow his slumbers, ever

Broken and scattered by the first cockcrow—

Greet him from me with worship as beseems,

And, telling him my fears, entreat to know

If aught that touches his old pupil Saul,

Haply an issue from the brooding brain

Of Shimei to Saul's hurt, have reached his ear.

Be wise, be wary, Stephen, whet thy sense,

Fail not to see or hear whatever sign

Glimpses or whispers, smallest hint that may

Concern the safety of thine uncle Saul.

How knowest thou but thy scouting walk this morn

Shall rescue to the world, in need so deep,

Yet many a year of that apostleship?

Besides, with such a sun quenched from our sky,

What then were day prolonged but night to us?

Go, and thy mother here meanwhile will pray:

'Lord, speed my son, make him discreet and brave!'"

Brave and discreet the boy had need to be;

For, as he went, amid the rear-guard dense

Of darkness undispersed before the dawn,

Steering his flying steps along the street,

And watching wary, with tense eye and ear,

To every quarter of the dim dumb world—

A sudden thwarting ray that disappeared!

He paused on tiptoe, leaning forward, stood

One instant, with his hand behind his ear,

To listen, while his noisy heart he hushed;

And heard, yea, footsteps, with a muffled sound

Of human voices sibilant and hoarse.

What meant it? Nothing, doubtless, yet well were

To be unseen, and see—if see he might—

And hear unheard, until his way were sure.

With supple swift insinuation, he

Slipped him beneath the slack ungathered length

Of a chance-left rolled tent-cloth at his feet.

Two men—one bore a lantern, darkened deep

Behind the outer garment that he wore—

Drew nigh, and Stephen held his breath to hear

The name of Saul hissed out between the twain.

Slow was their gait, and ever and anon,

Halting, they checked their words, and seemed to list,

As if for comrades lingering yet behind.

They against Stephen halted thus, and he

Lay breathlessly awaiting what might fall.

First having paused, as hearkening from afar—

To naught but silence—the two men sat down

Upon that roll of tent-cloth, thus at ease

To rest them, till the waited-for appeared.

At Stephen's very ear, he in duress

And forced to hear them, there those two ill men,

Complotters in the plot to murder Paul,

Unfolded in free converse all their scheme.

Fiercely the listening boy forbade to cry

The aching heart of eagerness in him,

That almost rived with its desire of vent.

Fear for himself could not have held him mute;

Horror and hatred of that wickedness

Swelled swiftly in his breast, so huge and hard,

There must have sprung from out his lips a cry,

Sharp like an arrow cleaving from its string,

Had not great love been instant, stronger yet,

Binding his heart to burst not, and be dumb.

So there he lay as dead, so deathlike still,

Until at length—the waited-for come up—

They all went forward thence their purposed way.

Then Stephen lithely to his feet upsprung

And, sped as with his anguish, his disdain,

His indignation, to be silent—force

Pent up in him from all escape but speed—

Swift, like the roe upon the mountains, ran

To find Gamaliel, where that ancient sage

Sat on his dewy roof expecting morn.

"Rachel my mother sends Gamaliel hail,

And bids me haste to bring thee instant word!"

So Stephen, with quick-beating heart that broke

His words to pulses of sobbed sound, began:

"She says—but I, in hither coming, learned

More than my mother charged me with to thee.

Lo, wicked men of our own nation plot

This day to shed my mother's brother's blood.

They will desire the Roman to send down

Mine uncle Saul before the Sanhedrim,

To be by these examined once again;

But they will set upon him while he comes,

And so, or ever he can rescued be,

Make of mine uncle Saul a bloody corpse.

O Rabbi, master of mine uncle Saul,

Beseech thee, speak, bid me, what must I do?"

The old man bent upon the boy his brow,

And, slowly rousing without motion, said:

"The world grows gray in wickedness, my son;

What the Lord God of all intends, who knows?

Most wise is He, but deep, in many ways,

Past human finding out. Thine uncle Saul

Is hated for himself by Shimei

Yet more than for his cause. And Shimei

Is doubtless the artificer of this."

With inward adjuration then, a hand

Uplifted as in gesture to repel,

Gamaliel deeply added, "O my soul,

Into the secret of such man come not!"

Wherewith the aged tremulous lips were mute,

Though mutely moving still, as if the words

Said themselves over, again and yet again,

Within him, of that ancient fending spell.

Stephen, well-schooled in awe of the hoar head,

Stood an uneasy instant silent, then

Yielded to his untamable desire

Of action and impatience of delay.

"O Rabban," he importunately cried,

"But thy young servant's soul already God

Into the secret of this man has brought—

Doubtless to baffle him—knew I but how!"

"Yea, verily, Stephen; also that might chance,"

Gamaliel answered with benignity;

He almost let grave admiration breathe,

Through softly-lighted look and gentle tone,

A kind of benediction on the boy,

As he, unhastened, felt the youthful haste

That made the stripling Stephen beautiful;

"For David was a shepherd lad, when he

Was chosen of God to lay Goliath low.

Who knows but thou shalt save thine uncle Saul?

I loved him long ago—when thou wast not;

He went his way, and I abode in mine,

Ways widely parting, but I love him still.

And I would see him yet before I die.

Tell him, Gamaliel would see Saul once more.

Perhaps, perhaps, I might dissuade him yet.

Thine uncle, lad, was ever from a youth

Headstrong to think his thought and will his will.

No man might bend him from his own fixed bent;

If any man, then I; he honored me,

And hearkened reason from Gamaliel's lips.

Yea, send Saul hither, I would prove if I

Have not still left some saving power for him."

Gamaliel spoke half as from reverie,

Lapsed in oblivion of the present need.

"Rabban Gamaliel," bold upspoke the boy,

"Thy saving power I pray thee now put forth

To pluck mine uncle from the jaws of death.

I promise gladly then to bring thee Saul,

If so I may, when, by thy counsel, I

Have set him safe from those that seek his blood.

These have their mouth agape already now,

Their throat an open sepulcher for him.

I see, I see them spring upon their prey—

O master, master, must he die like this?"

The passionate pleading boy dropped on his knees,

And the knees clasped of the thus roused old man.

"Yea, I remember," now Gamaliel spoke;

"Weep not, my boy, but haste, my bidding do."

Therewith Gamaliel clapped his aged hands,

When instantly a servant to his call

Stood on the roof with, "Master, here am I."

"An inkhorn and a pen, with parchment; speed!"

Shot from Gamaliel's lips, so short, so sharp

With instance, that the man not went, but flew.

"Make thou a table of my knees, and write,"

Gamaliel to forestalling Stephen said;

"Write: 'I, Gamaliel, send this lad to thee;

I know him; he will tell thee what concerns

Thy hearing; thou canst trust him all in all.'

There, so is well; now superscribe it fair:

'To the chief captain of Antonia.'

Run, carry this—stay, I must sign it first

With mine own hand for certainty to him.

Up, haste thee to the castle, ask for Saul,

Him tell what thou hast learned, and show him this;

Saul will to the chief captain get thee brought,

And thou hereby shalt win believing heed.

No thanks, and no farewell, but thy feet wing!"

So sped, but of his own heart better sped,

Stephen quick got him to the castle gate,

Where, with Gamaliel's seal displayed—his truth,

Patent in face and voice, admitting him—

He gained prompt privilege of speech with Paul.

Paul heard the tidings that his nephew brought

And, summoning a centurion, said to him:

"Pray thee, to the chief captain take this youth;

He has a matter for his private ear."

So the centurion, taking Stephen, went

To the chief captain, and thus spoke to him:

"The prisoner Paul bade me to him and asked

That I would bring this youth to thee, who has

A certain matter he would tell thee of."

The chiliarch looked at Stephen glowing there

Before him in the beauty of his youth,

A beauty that was more than beauty now,

Touched and illumined into nobleness

By the pure ardor of the soul within

Kindling upon the face in flames of zeal—

The Roman, on the boy ennobled so

Feasting his eye a moment in fixed gaze,

Caught the contagion of that nobleness.

A waft perhaps of reminiscence waked

Blew soft and warm upon his heart from Rome;

Clear in the mirror of the Hebrew boy

Shining in sudden apparition so,

Fairer than fountain of Bandusia,

There swam perhaps an image to the eye

Of that stern Roman father, dear with home;

Perhaps he thought of a young Claudius,

Who, far away beneath Italian skies,

Was blooming crescent in a grace like that,

His father exile in Jerusalem!

However wrought on, Claudius Lysias,

Touched somehow to a mood of gentleness,

Took Stephen by the hand and went with him

Apart a little into privacy,

And said: "And now, my pretty Hebrew lad,

What matter is it thou hast hither brought?"

"O, sir," said Stephen, with half-downcast face

Of beautifying shame that he must bear

Such witness unto Roman against Jew,

"There are some Israelites not of Israel;

Pray thee, judge not my race by this that I

Must tell thee of my wicked countrymen.

Forty vile men have in Jerusalem,

By one the vilest who knows all the vile,

Been found to bind themselves by oath in league

Together all, under a dreadful curse,

Neither to eat nor drink, till they the best,

The noblest, of their countrymen have slain

Thy prisoner Paul. These presently will ask,

Or others speaking for them will—high climbs,

Sir, and wide spreads, this foul conspiracy

Of evil against good, among the Jews—

They soon will ask that thou to-morrow bring

Thy prisoner before the Sanhedrim

As of his cause to certify thyself.

But, while he comes, those base complotters will,

Lying in wait for this, upon him fall

Too quickly for the soldiers to forefend,

And slay him as beneath thy very eyes.

O, sir, do not thou give them their desire."

"Thou lookest truth, my boy," the chiliarch said;

"But a mad bloody plot thou warnest me of.

Thou knowest these things? But how these things knowest thou?

And how shall I know that thou knowest these things? How, too, that thou speakest truly as thou knowest?'

"My mother is Paul's sister," Stephen said,

"And she, all in her secret heart, divined

Some mischief that impended over him,

And bade me hasten to the wise and good

Gamaliel, counsellor to her and all,

And ask if he knew aught, or aught advised,

That touched the safety of her brother; he

Was once Gamaliel's pupil well-beloved.

It came to pass, as I devoured my way

Through the deep dark before the earliest dawn,

Whetted to heed whatever might be sign

Of import to the purpose I would serve,

That a low noise of voices, and a ray,

Shot, so it after proved, athwart the night

From out a lantern, for an instant bare,

That some one carried underneath his robe,

And, by pure hap, or haply for a hint

From far to comrade, or to light his course,

Let shine that moment through the parted folds—

It chanced, I say, that such a sudden sign—

For sign I found it—made me haste to hide

Where I, unmarked, might mark, both eye and ear.

O, sir, God sent those wicked twain so nigh

Me I could plainly hear them, every word,

Unfold the counsel of their wickedness.

As soon as freed by their departure, I

Flew to Gamaliel, told him all, from him

At last received instruction and strict charge

To hasten hither, seek out Paul, access

Secure through him to thee, and in thine hand

Give this, Gamaliel's word, for proof of me."

Stephen stood silent, and the chiliarch read;

"Aye, as I thought," he slowly, musing, spoke;

"I did not doubt thy truth, my boy, before,

I myself did not, though the chiliarch did,

As by his office bound to scruple deep,

And ever doubt, till doubt by proof be quelled.

This well agrees with the wild, heady way

Of the whole restless, reckless race of Jews.

They count no cost, of peril, or of pain,

Loss, labor, naught; impossibility

Is but temptation to attempt—in vain.

Was never city like Jerusalem,

Menace of mob in every multitude!

Well, well, my lad, I trust thee, go thy way,

Say naught of this to any one abroad;

I will take care no harm shall happen Paul.

Thou hast well done to bring this word to me;

I should have felt it for a vexing thing

Had thus a Roman in my custody

Disgracefully been slain with violent hands.

But thou it seems lovest thy kinsman Paul;

Now for thy youth, and for thy comely face,

And for the service thou hast wrought for me,

I give thee thy request, what wilt thou have?

Be prudent, so that I need not repent,

And, so that thou need not repent, be bold.

Ask widely, wisely, for thine uncle Paul."

"I thank thee, sir, for this thy grace to me,"

Said Stephen; "but for Paul I nothing ask,

Sure as I am he has what he desires;

For he has learned in whatsoever state

He be, therein to be content—so I

Have heard mine uncle say, in telling what,

Strange hap and hard to me it often seemed,

Has him befallen in wandering through the world.

Still, if I might two things in one desire,

Though not for Paul, yet partly for his sake,

I this would crave from thee, that I may here

Bide with mine uncle, or with, him go hence,

If hence thou sendest him; that is one thing;

And this the other is, that I may bid

Gamaliel hither, here to visit Paul.

Gamaliel wishes to see Paul once more,

And Paul I know would gladly yet again

Greet his belovéd master face to face.

Doubtless the last time it will be to them;

For he, Gamaliel, waxes very old,

Almost five score the tale is of his years."

"Thou askest little; all is granted thee,"

The Roman said, and that centurion charged:

"Let this lad come and go, unchecked, at will,

Or bide companion with the prisoner Paul."

"And thou, my little Hebrew," added he,

Apart, "behooves thou know the time is short

For Paul to tarry in Antonia.

This very night, I send him forth with haste

To Cæsarea from Jerusalem;

Both for his safety, and my quiet, this.

Thou shalt go with him, if thou choose to go.

Remember that I trust thee, and be dumb."

Benignantly dismissed thus, Stephen first

Home hied him to his mother Rachel, her

Told what had fallen and comforted her heart;

Then to Gamaliel bore the chiliarch's word,

Bidding him freely come to visit Paul.