959 UC-I B 3 1 3 iiiiiii 35 717 " GALLIC ST. JOHN LUCAS GALLIO THE PRIZE POEM ON A SACRED SUBJECT 1908 ,»>!''> ' * St. JOHN LUCAS, M.A. UNIVERSITY COLLEGE B. H. BLACKWELL, 50 & 51 BROAD STREET 3Lont)on SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. 1908. No7t civium ardor pra'va 'jubentiiim . . . Mente quatit solida.'" Hoy. Carm. iii., 3. 1 > %> » ••: GALLIC. To Lucius Annaeus Seneca in Rome Gallic his brother, — Caesar's prc-ccnsul Where e'er the twain and hardly-sundered seas, Icnian and ^gean, Acrcccrinth Stands sentinel, — gives greeting, and such news As exiled life may offer, and good thanks For memories that shine like motes of gold In the slow-falling sand of empty days. Thou knowest, brother, — who so well as thou, Co-heir with me to learning ? — how my soul Burned, as a caged bird maddens for the woods In April, to behold this land, this heaven Unfolded golden in our boyish dreams, — This Greece, the champion of the light divine Against barbarian dimness that recoiled As dark-plumed night sweeps smokewise from the sun ; This antique seat of Freedom and the Gods, Whose forests yielded Argo, and whose mines v.^.ve the bronze beaks that tore the Persian's heart, Swooping Hke greedy hawks, at Salamis ; This shrine, this nurse of heroes, whose least name Haunted me like a passion, — not me alone ; But thou, my brother, whose yet youthful front Glowed pale with Stoic brooding, and whose lips Seemed carved austere in marble, — thou hast shared This ecstasy. Dost thou remember yet That breathless night upon the Palatine In Caesar's garden, where the jasmine gleamed Faint in the dusk, and white moths drifted slow, When we twain and the young Domitius (Whom the Gods guard to prosper Rome and thee !) Lay 'neath a moon whose tawny disk foretold Vintage, and harvest-home ; and o'er the hills The dog-star burned like a revengeful eye ? How the whole scene comes back 1 I see the lad His bright hair crowned with roses, lying prone, Plucking with wilful fingers at the grass. Turning anon to watch thy face ; and thou, Thy worn cheek resting on a hand too thin, Bent o'er the scroll upon thy knees, that came From Caisar's house, the yellow vellum edged With thick sea-purple. Not the lips of him Who wrought and sang that deathless argument Dwelt with more passion on their theme than thine ; O'er Hector dying and Patroclus cold, And Priam, not more thick with tears his eves Whose name resounds like thunder of high floods; Whose speech is like a vision of the sea. But when thy voice failed, and the perfumed lamp Died, and the moon waxed argent, and a breeze Came softly, like the little timid ghost Of some dead child, and stirred the cypresses ; The boy sprang suddenly from earth, and stood Towering, like a beautiful young god, And gazed on Rome, and shook his hair, and cried : " O night and austere stars, and vagrant moon Lured Latmos-ward, be witness of this vow: Greece shall be free when I am Emperor ! " And thou, with dreamy eyes that looked to where The Forum and its gleaming colonnades Parodied Athens, raisedst thine arms to Heaven, And spakest with sharp yearning in thy voice. Homesick for lands unknown : — " To leave the glare And clamorous magnificence of Rome ! The teeming games where virgins stare at blood. The parasite, the patron, the dull crowd; The spies that dog our path, suborned of him Who grudges us our office ; the formal Hfe Of courtiers ; the recurrent spectacle Of our triumphant consuls, haling home Their load of skin-clad Dacians in chains, — Untamed by wounds and hunger, yet aghast At our hyaena-throng; — to leave it all, And live a shepherd on the floral hills Of Thessaly and brow^n JEtoVm, Or as the humblest pupil of the Porch, Carry the Master's books ; content to hear Some fragment of his lore, content to see. When the dawn swoops across Eubcea's heel. The pale Pentelican quarries flash to gold ! " These were thy words. I held my peace and sighed. And now thou tarriest yet in Rome, the friend Of Caesar, loved of all men, and that dream Is yet untarnished ; wherefore praise the gods. But I, I praise them not for this desire Fulfilled, who came to Greece a moon agone. Faring from Ostia with Vulturnian wind Past the swart brood of Liparean isles And fell Charybdis, and the lovely heir Of Grecian flowers and songs forgot in Greece, — Thyme-scented Sicily ; — thence o'er the dark Wide-heaving bosom of a dreamy sea sped by propitious gales, till I beheld, Black and sharp-edged against the dawn, like giants Who guard infernal flame, rugged and vast, Leucadia, Zacynthos, Ithaca, And pale beyond them in a morning mist, Hellas. No Fate can rob me of that hour. violet hills and sea, and deathless names Of cities, and dim haunts of S3'lvan gods ! But for this Corinth, brother, 'tis a place That the sun laughs to see, a gaudy tomb Haunted by peevish ghosts, a wilderness Of formal streets and tenements, once held By veterans of the divine Julius, And now by their base offspring ; with a herd Of men called Greeks, vain, unstable like sand, — A mongrel throng from Macedon and Thrace, — A barking rabble of Jews; my subjects these ! Poor heritors of the great-thewed clan that launched The earliest trireme on a startled wave, Those keen Corinthian sea-hawks who enserfed Corcyra, famed in rowers, and shook the pride Of Athens and her admirals ! All the day 1 sit in audience, striving to adjust The balance of their lightness, listening To the same dull reiterated tale: How Greek robbed Roman, Roman battered Greek, 8 And Jew pounced on the booty whilst they fought. Only at eve, when from inferior slopes Acrocorinthian, gazing north, I see Helicon, and the rich Crisaean plain, My soul revives; the soul of Greece respires In the dead lovely body of this land ; I dream old pageants and am comforted ; Yet briefly, since returning I behold Some hollow lonely temple all deflowered By brutal Mummius and his legionaries ; A shrine where gleams amid luxuriant briars The perfect arm of some dishonoured god, Or, built into a wall, the rain-worn brow Of Aphrodite. Like a yellow beast The city crouches in the sunset glow, Naked and haggard. Ah ! not in such haunts She lingers. Love's bright queen ! I had ended here My tale of disillusion, and filled the page With idle speech of books ; but that one word Recalls not thee alone and thy grave brow. Brother and firmest friend ! An alien face, Vivid as thine, less wan with knowledge, gleams Pale in the growing amethyst of dusk, — 1. Ill it A. u^ His face that, eager as thin altar-flame Fed with crushed gums and powdered Orient herbs, Flared when his stammering speech waxed plain with love ; His face, his face, beneath whose light my soul Saw herself judged, her philosophic robe Shrivelled ; her dismal weed of self-esteem Burnt in the steady flame of those great eyes. The man was fire, all fire ! Let me describe The event, — a nothing, — since I fail to draw The figure of its master ; 'twas a farce. Type of the petty feuds that make accursed This paradise of wranglers. Thou must know That ere the acclamation died which hailed Caesar's proconsul, I was straitly warned Of certain dues expected by the mob From the new deputy ; my forerunners Had been n:iost wise in this ; briefly, 'twas hoped I should play pandar to the law, and lean A partial finger on its rising scale. The test came ere three suns were dim. The Jews, Confident in their influence and my fear. Beset the seat of judgment, as a swarm Of thirsty wasps a fruit, and in their midst One man, their prisoner, staunch as a rock 10 In some discordant sea ; his lion's head Thrown backward, and in his unshifting eyes Nor hate nor fear, only a royal calm. But once he glanced at me, when, having stilled Some portion of the tumult, I required His name, and answered : " Paul, the least of those Who preach Christ crucified." Then all the Jews Cried at him with fierce mouths, and Sosthenes Their priest, that dark fanatic: " He hath bewitched Crispus the ruler of our synagogue, Deserter to this Christ, and would destroy Our ancient worship, leading men to God By strange unlawful paths." At once the throng, Snarling like famished wolves, flashed up to me A glare of tawny faces, and I read Plain in their eyes the insult of their hope. Then, for my blood was warm with this affront To Roman honour, I said : " So vague a charge Concerns me not ; speak, hath the man done aught Subtly against his neighbour or the State ? Hath he stolen or used violence ? " They answered : " Nay, but he worships falsely." And the throng Was silent, and this Paul stood, passing calm. Waiting my leave to plead. But I, enraged Less by their insolence than sick at heart To see a good man so beset by fools, II Cried : " Think you god-like Csesar sent me hither As fountain of your law, to hold debate Of washing pots, of clean and unclean meats, To back your private quarrels, to unleash The hydra of your custom at the throat Of him who grieves you ? By my staff, not thus ! If this man have indeed blasphemed your god. Look ye to it, and seek not aid from Rome. Dogs, do ye dare to whimper? Ho, my guards. Whip me this rabble from the judgment seat ! " The most part went in fear, but Sosthenes, Agrin with rage, shook fists at me, and cried Strange curses; then the idle throng of Greeks, No lovers of this sect, and swift to take The popular wind, laid angry hands on him. I let them brawl. So vile a comedy. Thou sayest, deserves oblivion ; and indeed I had forgotten all the paltry scene But for that face. Is it not strange, O brother, That in this feverish moment men call life. This narrow ray betwixt the dark and dark, A thousand features that we love or loathe Shine, pass, and are forgotten, or remain Blurred in the soul's false mirror^ till there comes, 12 Terrible, without warning, like a fierce Amazini^: star that changes night to noon, The Master-face! This Paul the Christian, This sword-blade man worn lean and dark with strife, This dreamer and mad poet, frenzy led Across the grim sea of a world's contempt Full-sailed to the sharp reefs of shameful death, — He was my star ! 'Twas he for whom my soul Had waited long in lonehness ; his brow Was smooth with some strange peace that I had sought. Blindfold, since birth ; all other men were ghosts ; He, he alone was vital ! Thou and I, Yea, all who yearn for truth beneath the sun. Dig in the painful sand, perchance to find Some tiny runnel from her central fount. But he hath found the source ! Her's is the road . That strikes straight up to heavenly perfectness, But we have sown it with a thousand briars And gaudy growths of falsehood, and are lost ; He is not lost, in whose triumphant eyes Burns calm the perfect knowledge, the great hope. The love that heals the red wounds of the world ! He hath departed hence to Syria. I had no speech with him ; I have no hope To see him any more ; death follows him 13 Like his own shadow, and as Httle marked. But ere he went, I found the means to hear His voice, and, muffled, mid a humble throng Of slaves and rustic hinds, to look farewell On that great brow. The scanty ritual o'er. Most quietly he spake, as doth a father To his assembled sons ; and while the words Came halting from his lips, he smiled, like one Who sees a steady vision that proclaims Health for an old, mad earth, and knows all else Dross, save that health. " For though I speak," he said, " With tongues of men and angels, lacking Love My voice is tuneless brass and jangled bells ; And though I prophesy, and comprehend All mysteries and all knowledge, and possess Faith that uproots the mountains, without Love I am as nought ; and though my hands bestow All treasure on the poor ; yea, though I give This body to the fire, yet without Love It profiteth me nothing." Then he told How Love was kind, long-suffering, no envier. Not boastful, not self-seeking ; calm and wise, Rejoicing in the truth ; and last he spake Of some great vision of the truth through Love, When we, who see as in a darkened glass Her shadow, shall behold her face to face . . . 14 I heard no more. The Greek boy plucked my cloak ; 'Twas thought the Jews had seen me enter there. Life and its cares returned ; I stole away For ever from that presence. He is gone Almost unheard, yet wherefore should I grieve Who learnt his secret ere his lips had moved ? This Love, become a fire to burn up lies, A sword against the cruel, a swift shaft To pierce the flank of evil ; Love, the germ Of the huge tree whose limitless boughs shall breathe Peace to the aching heart of all the earth. O thou, most dear of men that live, my brother ! Thou knowest the strange heralds chosen of Truth ; What if this were the long-sought remedy For all the blind confusion of our days, Our wretched strifes, our grey and hopeless deaths ! What if the dawn at last devour the dark ! Night falls like rain athwart the smoke-hued sea, The fisher's tiny lamp shines out. Alas, Had those wise Greeks not missed the light, but seen Even as this poor man, with such clear eyes, 15 That gleam of hope across their desperate joy ! Had Rome, our murderous daughter of the Wolf, Whose feet are thick with blood, been heir to this ! Thou deemest me bewitched ? Nay, hadst thou known The magic of the man ; I prithee send News of our young Domitius, whom I greet. ^ Gaylamou Pamphle Binder CUiylord Bros. Stockton, Cj- T.M. Rrg.U.S.P Lucas . S t , Gallio, John 7U L. — g- THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY