Didymus. It is black, and chill.
My little piper’s gone.... How I have dreamed,
How I have dreamed! Lord, gather quietly
All wild hearts like mine own into Thy hand.
Yet on the look of these fresh-kindled stars
I feed, as if their bright benignant lips
Betimes had kissed the fever out of me,
And given to me their seat in warless air,
Their naked majesty, their poignant calm.
Not less remote my spirit, not less free,
After this unimaginable sleep;
Having changed place, indeed, poor moth that was!
With vast abiding things: for now are cast
Old bonds, old ardors, expectation, ease,
Glory and death, belovèd land and sea.
5
Even as walled frost that feels the solar ray,
Curls up, impermanent, and reels far down
In long blue films, elfin, processional,
While the built stones fall to their first grave hue,
De-silvered: so the awful powers of earth
Exhale from me who stand the same; for these
Are vain, these are phantasmal, but not I.
At last I know myself, and know my need
As simply as a young child might, who cries
For honey from his father’s liberal hive.
I will go down at dawn; I will seek out
The Christian bishop, who shall lift me up,
A soul baptized.... Some lanthorn is beyond,
And moving. Hail, there! Would that I could say,
“The gods be kind to thee!”
Cratidas. Loose my wrist.
Many light things are heavy to the old:
Therefore, let me not feel thy touch again,
The while I talk, and guide across the dew.—
I, weeping in the hall, some three days since,
Saw Theodora tried. Aloft he sat,
Eustratius Proculus: no steely man,
But wise and gracious, in the prefect’s chair.
I do not blame him. (Mark the sudden gaps
8
Along our path.) Eustratius Proculus,
The gold and purple fringing his white robe,
In a domed chamber, on a curving throne;
And next the lighted jasper altar, wheeled
Far up the floor, boxed incense piled thereby,
Tall Theodora, like the lotus-flower
That rides a flooded stream; lictors and priests,
Notaries, naked executioners,
Ranged thick about. The prefect so began:
“Proclaim thyself.” “A maid named Theodora,
Ward of her aged cousin, Cratidas.”
“What is thine age?” “They tell me, seventeen years.”
“And thy condition?” Whereto she replied:
“Christ’s.” Very patiently he asked:
“Art bond or free?” as runs the rote of law.
She smiled in answering: “Free: made free by Christ;
Else, of free parents honorably born,
Rhoxis and Heräis, who both are dead.”
“Then why unmarried?” “For Christ’s sake,” she said,
“I have been busied with the things of Christ:”
(For none could quench that hectic “Christ” in her,
Poor fool!) Then spake Eustratius Proculus:
“Our code imperial deals with virgins thus:
Either unto the gods they sacrifice,
9
Or in an infamous place shall be exposed.
Come: one small grain within the brazier dropped,
And thou dost forfeit all pollution so,
Nor lose thy burial-rites.” She, blanching not,
Looked up. “Thou art not ignorant, nor I,
How man’s coöperate or revolted will
Doth color, in the councils of high Heaven,
Both what we do, and suffer. Violence,
Though sent to seek my soul, shall by her gate
Sit pilgrim-meek. Christ keeps His citadel.”
The prefect bent again, compassionate:
“O girl! rememberest not thy sires august?
Pity thy beauty, heirloom of their house,
And precious most in thee. Choose to obey;
Since even thee my duty cannot spare.”
But she: “The nail-pierced Hands that have my vow,
Defend it.” “Save thyself,” he cried, “and trust
No crucifièd ghost. From foul disgrace
Snatch thine own youth.” And she: “Behold, I do.
Christ is my source of honor, and mine end:
Christ shall be my preserver.” Next I heard:
“Buffet her twice.” Then: “Wilt thou sacrifice?”
My Theodora of the reddened cheek
Seemed absent from the body for a space,
Before she uttered: “No.” “Child, I am grieved
For such affront, which all our city sees.
10
Thy quality invites another usage,
Wert thou not crazed.” He paused, being full of ruth;
But self-relentless, she in that same pause
Brake forth: “O my one Wisdom, O my Joy!”
And last, Eustratius Proculus rose up:
“The edict! Let it work. I dally not,
For loyal and immovable regard
Unto mine Emperor.” “Bid me stand as true,”
She murmured, “in allegiance to a Power,
Before whom sceptred Diocletian shines
Brief as this puffing coal.” “Ai, blasphemy!”
The vast crowd thundered. So they led her down
Into a three days’ torture in the prison;
And to the draped tribunal, all unchanged,
This eve she came. Said I, indeed, unchanged?
Her spirit and speech were that; her body swayed
Hither and thither: a candle in a draught.
Some scrupled naught to praise such blithe disdain,
Immaculate, illumined; who e’er knew
Disdain could wear a look so like to Love’s?
And thrice Eustratius Proculus read out
Sentence, whereby the virgin Theodora,
A Christian obdurate and impious,
Must die indeed, but first must be immured,
Until the day break, in the house of shame.
He ended: “May thy God for thee achieve
The best He can!” She added: “Ay, He will.
11
As Daniel from the lions, from the deeps
Jonah; from furnace-heats the unbought three;
Peter from dungeon chains; as yesterday
Our Agnes from the Roman ignominy,
Shall I be rescued: He is faithful yet.”
Softly she prayed: “Lord, Lord! deliver straight
Thy bounden servant, overshadowing
Thine own, in dread mid-battle, with Thy wing.
Out of Thy mercy, let them harm me not:
By thy most bitter Passion borne for man,
O Fount of chastity, O Fortitude
Of all Thy saints, Jesu! remember me.”
Thus, in that voice which I shall hear no more.
I turned away, dragging my leaden limbs
Hillward, and homeward.
