Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/66

62 The Master's words—oh, how they haunt me now!

And burn like coals of vengeance on my heart;

And the word "traitor," branded on my brow,

From which I never, never more can part!

Oh, that I ne'er had seen Him, had ne'er heard

Those heavenly accents from His guileless lips;

Like hissing firebrands, in my brain each word

Quenches itself, and of my life-blood sips.

I knew, I knew such words and deeds belonged

But to the Deity, and to Him alone!

But powers of darkness all around me thronged

And longed to claim me, as I am, their own.

Oh, would I were the lowliest thing that lives,

Even a soulless, a just breathing thing!

For what is intellect, that to us gives

Such power to sin, such fearful suffering brings?

I dare not ask for pardon; He hath said

Wo to the traitor! and His word fails not;

What if I die? When He shall wake the dead,

Then shall I find I have not been forgot.

They lead Him forth! Oh, agonizing sight!

On His meek head a rugged crown of thorns;

But were it gold His brow would dim its light,

Such the pure majesty these wretches scorn.

The royal robe in mockery He wears;

They spit upon Him, and they hail Him king!

And now, O God! His heavy cross He bears,

Nor breathes one word for all His suffering.

Why do I live—oh, why behold this scene,

Whose shade will haunt me through eternity?

Off, coward fears! your slave too long I've been,

But now I am resolved, and I will die!