Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/119

 And thou that bar'st Him in thy wondering womb; Yea, Daughters of Jerusalem, depart, Bind up as best ye may your own sad bleeding heart: Go to your homes, your living children tend, Your earthly spouses love; Set your affections not on things above, Which moth and rust corrupt, which quickliest come to end: Or pray, if pray ye must, and pray, if pray ye can, For death; since dead is He whom ye deemed more than man, Who is not risen: no But lies and moulders low Who is not risen!

Ye men of Galilee! Why stand ye looking up to heaven, where Him ye ne'er may see, Neither ascending hence, nor returning hither again? Ye ignorant and idle fishermen! Hence to your huts, and boats, and inland native shore, And catch not men, but fish; Whate'er things ye might wish, Him neither here nor there ye e'er shall meet with more. Ye poor deluded youths, go home, Mend the old nets ye left to roam, Tie the split oar, patch the torn sail: It was indeed an 'idle tale' He was not risen!

And, oh, good men of ages yet to be, Who shall believe because ye did not see Oh, be ye warned, be wise! No more with pleading eyes, And sobs of strong desire, Unto the empty vacant void aspire,