PRESKNTED BY 
 
THE ISCARIOT 
 
THE ISCARIOT 
 
 BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS 
 
 WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY 
 
 FRANK BRANGWYN, A.R.A. 
 
 JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MCMXII 
 

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 SEP V I81t 
 
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 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 (/« a great chatnber sits the Sanhedrin about Caiaphas. 
 To the west, between open pillars, a setting moon shines above 
 the flat roofs of Jerusalem. Daw7t has touched the east. 
 Distant torch-light flashes fitfuHy and the air is tre>nulous with 
 the murmur of a troubled city. Judas walks up and down 
 befo7-e the priests and elders. Upon the pavett floor lie pieces 
 of silver scattered, some of which are illuminated by the moon 
 and shine white, while others, reflecting the radiance of swinging 
 lamps, glitter as though they were made of gold.) 
 
 GIVE heed to me, ye Guardians of the 
 Law ; 
 Hear one cast out, already on the brink 
 Of the dark river. Now in patience learn 
 The truth of this same Jesus I have sold, 
 But not for thirty pieces — for a dream ! 
 Aye, listen well ; my blood's a phlegethon ; 
 My bosom bursts with this accursed sleight 
 Played by the fiends of Tophet Gone — all 
 
 gone ! 
 
 I 
 
2 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Scattered and sped and vanished, like the veil 
 That golden mists of morning weave and wind 
 About a mountain's forehead, till the sun, 
 Grown thirsty, drinks the nightly dew and 
 
 burns 
 The blessea shade away. 
 
 Conceive my dream : 
 Empire it was, and glory, and the reign 
 Of Heaven unfolded here ; our citadel — 
 Our holy Zion — raised to top the world ; 
 The promise ratified ; the dynasty 
 Of God and David's Son enthroned high 
 Within Judea's sacred heart, to send 
 Sweet dayspring and deliverance and joy 
 Through earth's far bourne ! 
 
 Ye priests, it was for that — 
 For that I laboured and for that I lived ; 
 And ere yon lesser light, now gliding down 
 Upon the starry purple, shall be gone, 
 I thought that grey Gethsemane must see 
 Jehovah crown His Son ! For thus it 
 
 stands 
 Under the signet of the Faithful One : 
 
THE ISCARIOT 3 
 
 We are the crest and corner-stone of man, 
 
 And hold earth's everlasting destiny 
 
 By the Eternal Will in our sole hand. 
 
 To us the mastery of the world is given ; . 
 
 We only, the unchanging, steadfast rock 
 
 In this mad sea of change, endure and 
 
 stand. 
 Unbowed, unbroken, and discriminate 
 Till Time is told. Our Race alone of all 
 Shall ride upon the welter of the 
 
 world — 
 This seething ocean of unnumbered men 
 Poured like a deluge forth from Hellas, 
 
 Rome, 
 Gaul, and Armenia, from the misty North 
 And Egypt's sandy heart. The Chosen we, 
 And from our sacred and predestined root 
 The Son of God must bloom. If otherwise 
 The Eternal breaks His Covenant with 
 
 man — 
 A blasphemy to whisper. 'Tis for Christ — 
 For Christ we keep our blood a fountain 
 
 pure ; 
 
4 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 For Christ we walk unspotted as a maid 
 That waits her promised spouse. 
 
 Who better know 
 Than ye, how fainting earth Messiah craves? 
 Who better know the faltering, the grief. 
 The dwindling hope, the ever-waxing fear ? 
 Pagans are thundering at our Temple gates 
 And at our hearts ; all expectation droops 
 And noblest spirits sicken with the dearth 
 Of these sad, twilight days. Deep from their 
 
 tombs 
 The prophets of the promises, attent. 
 Still listen, sleeping not until the truth 
 Whispered by God, through God shall come 
 
 full round 
 Unto fulfilment. Yet Judea's ear, 
 That strains for the first trumpet from on 
 
 high, 
 Gleans nothing but the roar of Roman 
 
 wheels 
 And clang of mail, where the deep valley 
 
 dust 
 Spews forth another legion ; still her eyes- 
 
THE ISCARIOT 5 
 
 Her patient eyes, uplifted to the hills — 
 
 See nought but gathering eagles, that would 
 
 fain 
 Play vulture with her corse. 
 
 O Palestine ! 
 Thy zealous child was Judas till this morn, 
 And love of thee, and hope, and utmost 
 
 faith 
 In thine eternal heritage from Heaven, 
 Have slain him now. Yet can a myth so 
 
 weigh 
 That men of might are called to perish 
 
 for it ? 
 List then, how, yearning for Messiah's Hour, 
 I met Him, as 1 dreamed — the Son of God — 
 Moving amid His own, who knew Him not. 
 
 1 O me came Jesus, and I marvelled much 
 How a poor preacher of the hedge and 
 
 ditch 
 Should dare to challenge reason. " Friend," 
 
 said I, 
 For I had heard the seer tell his tale, 
 
6 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 " Now hail thee, ' King of Beggars,' not of 
 
 men ! 
 Go, stir the antres of the wilderness 
 For starving, wolfish things that cry to 
 
 herd 
 And hunt their betters ; promise ample prey 
 To vermin and the pariahs of earth — 
 The living dust that rises in a storm 
 To choke clean throats and nostrils. Foolish 
 
 man ! 
 Equality thou preachest in God's Name, 
 Who made all things unequal ; thou wouldst 
 
 set 
 That futile, deadly lance in every hand — 
 To wound itself withal. And what of these ? 
 Dost think this foetid rout of draggle-tails 
 And dropsies and lopped limbs and palsied 
 
 legs 
 Doth march to take a kingdom ? 
 
 " True, thou say'st 
 Thy kingdom is not founded upon earth. 
 Then shall this cankered trash ascend to 
 
 Heaven, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 7 
 
 Where kings do service and the prophets 
 
 kneel 
 Before the Throne of God ? What pledge 
 
 hast thou, 
 Wild shepherd of the goats, that shall 
 
 affirm 
 Thy fold's security? The robber folk — 
 Those nomad leaders, who draw men away. 
 And sharpen secret swords on desert stones 
 To carve up our tame cities presently — 
 Their purpose one doth comprehend, but 
 
 thine ? 
 
 What head shalt thou make ? Who shall fear 
 
 thine hordes ? 
 What sure salvation may this crippled band 
 Of all incompetencies win from thee? 
 Lead them direct, if thou wouldst be their 
 
 friend, 
 Down to the silent sanctuaries of death, 
 Where none shall suffer at them. It is 
 
 there 
 Their heritage doth lie. In mercy point 
 The shortest road and bid them follow it. 
 
8 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 That earth may sweeter be by their surcease. 
 Their malady is weakness — a supreme 
 And potent poison in the world's affairs, 
 That, like some foul but ever-flowing tide. 
 Creeps up the rock of power and lifts and 
 
 lifts 
 To drown the lonely strong. This rodent 
 
 plague 
 Judea frets, and now, most sorely struck 
 By the fierce hectic of that fever fell, 
 She faints beneath the mastership of Rome. 
 Ye teach the weak to hate and not to trust ; 
 Ye cry that strength is sin and might a 
 
 vice 
 In sight of the Almighty ! Erring friend. 
 If weakness be the highest good on earth. 
 Then let the highest weakness rule the earth, 
 And yonder crooked fragment of a man. 
 Half eaten by the leprosy, that drags 
 His trunk with handless arms along the 
 
 dust, 
 Be lifted to the throne, or take the field 
 Against our myriad foes ! " 
 
THE ISCARIOT 9 
 
 But Jesus bore 
 With all the withering scorn I poured about 
 His ragged faction. Gently thus he spake : 
 " Upon the weakest link depends the chain 
 That draws to Heaven. All mankind in 
 
 truth 
 May win thereto, but yet is it decreed 
 That these sore-stricken, wounded companies 
 Of unloved and unprofitable people 
 Inherit first ; for if they be not heirs 
 Of their Eternal Father's home, then none 
 Is heir and He shall all forget. But know 
 The Everlasting One appraiseth not 
 Man at man's value. On a golden scale 
 God measures, and the weight thereof is 
 
 love. 
 Oh ! subtle, subtle is the love of God — 
 A fire that eats the green and spares the 
 
 dry; 
 A wind that blows away the heavy grain 
 From earthly threshing-floors, and leaves the 
 
 chaff 
 For heavenly garners. 'Tis a force beyond 
 
lo THE ISCARIOT 
 
 All wit of man to mete, or dimly know, 
 
 Or watch i' the working ; therefore be assured 
 
 That many a mighty one ye hold and 
 
 hug 
 And deem august and call the salt of earth, 
 Shall prove but dust of Heaven — less, far 
 
 less 
 Than these poor, hunger-bitten, frantic things. 
 Led by the first faint hope their souls have 
 
 known, 
 That crawl to make my pomp." Further he 
 
 spake — 
 Ye know the matter of his charge and plea, 
 Since often, in your darkness, ye have cursed 
 To mark the message echoed high and low. 
 But me he tented deep : his rede was new. 
 Yet pregnant, and it touched me to the 
 
 quick 
 Of my soul's life ; for long had I believed 
 That good and evil in the ways of man 
 Were ravelled up and knotted and entwined 
 Beyond all resolution ; sure was I 
 That in the alembic of the human heart 
 
THE ISCARIOT ii 
 
 Old rights and wrongs were melted into 
 
 one ; 
 That evil leavened good, that good itself, 
 Since the Mosaic legacy was spent, 
 Had grown of grim complexion ; and 1 saw 
 How values after measurement of man 
 Were vain and void. 
 
 He said that he was God, 
 And reason fell upon its knees to hear. 
 For he believed himself! There was in 
 
 him 
 Living assurance and the power to win 
 A cold and doubting spirit with a phrase. 
 He said that he was God, and I believed. 
 Wrested thereto by shock of wakened love 
 And pride in friendship ; for until he came 
 Before the portals of this lonely heart 
 And sought to enter, all my life austere 
 Had driven men away, where beacons burned 
 That promised warmer welcome. Thus it 
 
 fell 
 That I accepted from my pent-up heart 
 Fully and perfectly with hungry joy ; ^ 
 
12 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 For when such secret souls as mine once 
 
 love, 
 The torrent bursts all bounds and pours 
 
 itself 
 In a raging flood. And as I haunted him, 
 To hear the evangel, luminous and pure, 
 Of his most glorious hope, I felt in truth 
 The Ancient of the Ages had sent forth 
 His very Son to earth, and willed that He 
 Should walk unseen till now. For this man 
 
 lived 
 With such a life as never had I seen 
 In all the paths of men ; a bloom of being 
 Shone like the Springtime from his radiant 
 
 soul. 
 He gave his life as others fling away 
 Their riches — gave and gave and gave again. 
 Like the sweet music of the psaltery, 
 That wearies never while the fingers pluck, 
 Even so he, while men had ears to hear. 
 Sang a new music to humanity. 
 He held a light ; he spake a wondrous 
 
 v^ord, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 13 
 
 And Mercy was its name : gentle indeed, 
 
 Yet terrible. A boon and benison 
 
 To all forgotten, fruitless, weary souls 
 
 And the sad staple of our human kind ; 
 
 A death eternal to the order old. 
 
 That sank within the still and marble past 
 
 Entombed by him. 
 
 ' The poor in spirit blessed ! ' 
 Lo, what a challenge, what an anthem 
 
 new, 
 Dropped like a singing star from highest 
 
 Heaven, 
 Was there of revolution ! So he came. 
 From David's seed to make the peace with 
 
 God: 
 Rainbow of Promise on the thunder-cloud 
 Of our primordial fall and dreadful fate — 
 The Christ indeed ! 
 
 " Oh, let one joyful shout- 
 From all the wide-winged seraphim in 
 
 Heaven, 
 Proclaim Thee now the Master of this 
 
 world ! " 
 
14 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Thus cried my awakened soul — I gave up all 
 And followed him, and left him nevermore. 
 My hard-won learning into night I cast 
 Before this dawn of everlasting truth, 
 Emptied my brain and scoured away my lore. 
 As I had cleansed a vessel that was foul ; 
 I scorned my body, elbowed the unclean. 
 Suffered the heat and hunger, shared my 
 
 goods. 
 And held our pitiful purse ; all I forgot 
 And put behind me, since it was his will. 
 Thus sacrificing reason to the faith 
 That he was come to feed the starving earth. 
 
 Above all else that drew me to him first 
 There rang a mighty manifest of truth : 
 That Heaven's whole kingdom lay within the 
 
 heart ! 
 As corn doth wait the coming of the rain 
 To spread a vernal veil upon the earth, 
 Even so rich and heavenly a harvest-field 
 Each man may make of his poor, barren 
 
 self, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 15 
 
 Given the grain from God ! For that alone — 
 That echo of a golden verity 
 Reverberating to despondent souls — 
 I would have followed Jesus. 
 
 Close I kept, 
 But not submerged within the gathering host 
 That moved about his way. Far otherwise — 
 'Twas my swift ear that ever truliest heard ; 
 'Twas I that of the twelve — his chosen 
 
 ones — 
 Grew drunk upon the cup he offered us. 
 To no high issues were the rest ordained ; 
 The draught he daily poured fired not at all 
 Their simple minds: as dew-drop from the 
 
 reed, 
 His secret 'scaped them. Like a flock of 
 
 sheep 
 They grazed along behind the shepherd's 
 
 heels, 
 Content to follow where he chose to go, 
 To ask for nothing but their daily meed. 
 And bleat a little when the way was 
 
 steep. 
 
i6 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 But, through the chambers of my swifter 
 
 brain, 
 The force ineffable and secret fire 
 Of all he taught us leapt and burned apace. 
 In frenzy of anticipation fierce 
 I saw the promised conquest of this 
 
 world, 
 That first should come ; I ate my spirit out, 
 While still he tarried, caring not that time 
 Sped on, and that Judea's lowly couch 
 Was wet with tears. 
 
 Then, what he would not tell, 
 I strove to win by ambushes of words 
 And questions deeply masked. Through starry 
 
 nights. 
 When far afield amid the desert wilds, 
 Or by the margin of the inland sea, 
 Way-worn and weary, he would lay him 
 
 down 
 To sleep on any pillow with the twelve, 
 I pressed him close, revealed my loftier 
 
 thoughts 
 And wider sympathies. I showed to him 
 
THE ISCARIOT 17 
 
 How far unlike the fishermen was I ; 
 
 How swift of mind and subtle ; how I saw, 
 
 Out of the human love I bore to him, 
 
 The goal whereto he travelled, and the 
 
 way ! 
 I spoke of mighty dead who knew not 
 
 God, 
 Yet whom God knew, and breathed upon and 
 
 showed 
 The fore-glow whose true dawn would blaze 
 
 anon 
 To light His Chosen. Yea, I told the tale 
 Of Athens and the wondrous sons she bare 
 To the true God, while yet unnumbered false 
 Tore at the people's hearts with human 
 
 hands. 
 For human were they — men and women all — 
 Wrought by the seers of that olden time 
 To be a boon for them who cried for 
 
 gods. 
 Living and breathing visions from the void. 
 They came in sunny splendour to the folk, 
 And all the people lived beside their gods 
 
 3 
 
1 8 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 As learned magi and the sages live 
 Beside their symbols. But mock deities 
 Possess no power to make their servants 
 
 men, 
 Such as are we ; though cunning artists came, 
 Juggled with marble, ivory, and gold, 
 And raised a very galaxy of gods 
 On high for devilish idolatry 
 Within a thousand temples. Now the doom 
 Of the one God we worship falls, and 
 
 night 
 Eternal soon shall gulf that lingering brood 
 Of gods inferior to Fate — poor ghosts — 
 Less than their Themis — Jove's assessor dire. 
 Anon, I named in his unlisting ear 
 That master-spirit — he who steadfast shone 
 Like a sure pharos on the broken waves 
 And ebb and flow of thought ; to show the 
 
 rocks 
 That filled those stormy channels, ere our 
 
 God 
 The charted way for evermore revealed. 
 But nought he cared for Socrates, until 
 
THE ISCARIOT 19 
 
 I named the hemlock cup, and then, indeed, 
 All vague and drowsy at the brink of 
 
 sleep, 
 Declared that earth must ever stone and 
 
 slay 
 Her prophets. So he fell on slumber deep, 
 As one, who having poured his life all day 
 For others' need, must seek the founts of 
 
 rest 
 And deeply draw against to-morrow's toll. 
 But I slept not : my mind, on pinions swift 
 Won from his word, now traversed life and 
 
 time ; 
 Dwelt with the rising and the setting stars ; 
 Leapt the black hills with day to ravish 
 
 night ; 
 Brooded upon our destiny, and strove 
 How to unwind the purpose of the present 
 With all its sordid ugliness and want. 
 Whence this sad waste, these temporal 
 
 miseries 
 Of meagre food, cold welcome, chill response 
 Unto the tidings ? Wherefore did he choose 
 
20 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 So arid, profitless, and thorny a path 
 
 To David's empty throne? And for how 
 
 long 
 Would he remain content to wear the dress 
 Of muddy man, while from his eyes there 
 
 glowed 
 The fire divine? Now in a gentle beam 
 Of most benignant light 'twas wont to 
 
 shine ; 
 Now, like the awful, azure tongue of levin 
 From heart of storm, it flashed the ire of 
 
 God ; 
 And whether 'twas a smile he downward 
 
 cast. 
 Gentle and lambent on the little ones 
 Who struggled to be throned upon his knee, 
 Or 'gainst yourselves a knotted brow he 
 
 bent 
 To shrivel up your broad phylacteries — 
 Whether in joy or sorrow, peace or pain, 
 Those eyes declared him, born out of the 
 
 blue 
 Of sea and sky and mountain-purple dim 
 
THE ISCARIOT 21 
 
 All men have seen, none trodden. There I 
 
 drank, 
 And something of the deeper mystery won 
 That he denied his lips. 
 
 Nay, move ye not ! 
 Harken, ye frozen ones, some season yet 
 To this confusion of a frustrate soul. 
 He said that he was God, and I believed. 
 And cast about to help the world believe.j 
 
 JTIAVE ye not seen at Sidon, when a ship, 
 New launched upon the haven's peace, doth 
 
 put 
 To sea, how first the aid of little boats 
 The virgin vessel craves ? Such lesser craft 
 Bring forth the argosy when she doth bid 
 Farewell to earth. It is their humble part 
 To draw her stately from the circling arms 
 Of the land-mother, where her shape was 
 
 built- 
 in the far forest first, and then by man 
 Beside her future home and destiny. 
 So slowly forth she comes unto the sea. 
 
22 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 To feel the wind upon her sails' deep bosom 
 And the wide wave, that laughs and shows 
 
 its teeth 
 Smote by her virgin stem. And thus her 
 
 course 
 She takes and weds the fickle main, nor 
 
 knows 
 How long his love will last. In maiden 
 
 trust 
 She bows to the great deep and yields herself 
 Into his keeping, with companionship 
 Of willing winds and waves and leaping 
 
 foam. 
 Music dotli mark her going, where the ropes 
 Sing to the harper with the unseen hand ; 
 A sudden splendour of pure golden light 
 Burns on her opening wings, and from the 
 
 sun 
 To the least human eye upon the shore. 
 All mark her hopeful course and joyful 
 
 might, 
 Taking good heart and happiness to see 
 The pride of Sidon sweep upon her way. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 23 
 
 The little ships creep back. They are forgot ; 
 Yet to good purpose have they played their part, 
 And justified themselves. Consider then 
 That even such a little ship was I — 
 Judas, that speak to ye. 
 
 Now grew a hope, 
 A hope that swelled into a fierce resolve, 
 To draw my master from this coward peace 
 And launch him swift on his immortal 
 
 voyage. 
 Oh ! see ye not, even ye who hated him, 
 His majesty of purpose ? ' Granted all 
 Was but a gorgeous dream, by dreams men 
 
 guess 
 At the heart of the dreamer ; for your 
 
 slumbering mind, 
 Albeit free from earth's material grip 
 And desolating fetters of the real. 
 Still bears the sleepers' stamp. No evil man 
 Hath noble visions, and no lofty soul, 
 Though it be foundered in the fens of sleep. 
 Is moved to dream of baseness.^ Bear in 
 
 mind 
 
24 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 He is a Galilean — men who dream 
 By nature, and their visions oft translate 
 Into the stuff of warlike, waking life. 
 His heart to yours is as the living bud 
 To the dead leaf beside it on the bough. 
 Remember, priests, that he believed himself — 
 Yea, he believed himself; and was it strange 
 That, seeing men and what men seek and 
 
 shun, 
 And measuring the gulf that yawned betwixt 
 His own sad soul and theirs, this Nazarene 
 Should dream a fiery breath of very God 
 Had burned into his bosom? Was it strange? 
 Then read the world's innumerable hearts — 
 Yea, read your own, and match me if you 
 
 can 
 A heart like his — this lonely man of men ! 
 I ever knew him best ; 'twas I that saw 
 The truth eternal gleam like gem in jewel 
 When he but talked to children : I perceived 
 The deepening mystery and waxing wonder 
 As swift, from strength to strength, he upward 
 soared, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 25 
 
 Upon the wings of his great spirit borne, 
 While weak and weaker grew his earthly 
 
 frame. 
 I knew the never-sleeping voice he heard 
 That called to battle, and I shook to know 
 More than the master's self could guess or 
 
 see ; 
 For here all human hope of Heaven, housed 
 Within a habitation perilous. 
 And man's salvation, now within man's sight, 
 Threatened through man's own frailty to fail ! 
 Measure ye that ? Full sure the tortuous 
 
 ways 
 Of dialectic deep that ye pursue. 
 Should train your minds to this same 
 
 subtlety 
 That made me fear. I thought he was a 
 
 lamp — 
 A lamp incarnate, dazzled by the glare 
 Of his own awful radiance and the blaze 
 Of the supernal Godhead, Who had willed 
 Descend upon this humble one ; I feared 
 A load, too weighty for the Anakim, 
 
 4 
 
26 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Began to kill my Jesus. His poor flesh 
 Sank underneath the strain ; he fainted oft 
 And suffered through long secrecies ; he 
 
 wept ; 
 He groaned in spirit with his Father hid ; 
 Battled through many a midnight hour with 
 
 Fear, 
 And gazed in terror at the front of Fate. 
 He moved as one who shudders for his 
 
 thought, 
 And cannot banish from his fearful eyes 
 The haunting shadow that will peep and 
 
 peer. 
 Stumbling in our mortality, too weak 
 To tear it from him ; shrinking, flinching 
 
 yet 
 From all the majesty and magnitude 
 Of the high task, that echoed to his soul 
 From the far corridors of earliest time. 
 When Adam fell, he went his doubtful way. 
 Still, still the master spake with Heaven's 
 
 voice. 
 But was content to speak ; to act delayed. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 27 
 
 And this I marked and girt my huge resolve 
 To make him act and sweep him surely on 
 To his epiphany. 
 
 With zeal at heat, 
 Undaunted courage, and the purest faith 
 That ever burned — an incense unto God ; 
 Fired for my failing country ; torn with lust 
 To do my Father's will, I strove to find 
 Whether I might in all humility 
 Essay the help that to his fellow-man 
 Man giveth. Seeing, then, that Jesus knew 
 Our common suffering and sadly bent 
 Beneath the stern and universal yoke, 
 I spake to him and bade him doff his 
 
 flesh, 
 As one doth doff a garment before toil. 
 " Jesus of Nazareth, Thou Prince of Light, 
 Leave prayers and fasting unto sons of men. 
 Who know but how to pray and how to 
 
 fast : 
 Thou art the Son of God ! Thy Father now 
 Bends His omnipotent and questioning eyes 
 
28 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 From the lone height of Heaven to seek His 
 
 Son. 
 He searcheth not beside the dusty knoll, 
 Nor scorched highway, nor shadow of the 
 
 stone. 
 Nor temple of red, jackal-haunted rocks 
 Upon the desert sand. Not on the wave 
 When fishers draw their nets through Galilee, 
 Nor mid the shards and skeletons that 
 
 show 
 Where cities stood to crown the vanished 
 
 past, 
 His First Begotten shall the Godhead find ; 
 Not synagogues reward the Almighty's search. 
 Nor yet the Temple, where keen, vulpine 
 
 eyes 
 Of them that hate Thee flash, and where the 
 
 ears 
 Are pricked that would confound Thee in 
 
 Thy speech. 
 A sword, my Master, Thou hast come to 
 
 draw ; 
 Then bare it, and along that awful blade 
 
THE ISCARIOT 29 
 
 Bring down the thunderbolt upon Thy foes 
 
 And liberate the people of our God. 
 
 Loose them and lift them up. Let them 
 
 arise 
 Out of the dust rejoicing and be whole — 
 A nation worth Thy kingship — yea, a race 
 Whose humblest ones are fit to fill the 
 
 thrones 
 Of lesser kingdoms. O Thou Son of 
 
 Heaven, 
 To rule and reign Thou com'st ! Thy Godly 
 
 part 
 Is not to creep with mean humility 
 Among the weary-footed. Thou dost bring 
 Salvation to the stricken sons of Time, 
 For all are lost without Thee. Hearken then ! 
 Messiah is Messiah — He redeems 
 The suffering of all the suffering earth ; 
 But, Jesus, Thou dost suffer with the rest ! 
 A suffering Messiah ! 'Tis a wrong. 
 And bitter slight to Heaven. Angels weep 
 At Thine unseemly torments, for they know 
 The Saviour comes to save and not to suffer. 
 
30 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Out of the night the enemy doth roar 
 And hem the darkness in with flaming orbs, 
 While Palestine, poor scape-goat of the world, 
 Bleats for the trusted shepherd that she loved. 
 And marvels that he hath deserted her. 
 From out their shattered and forgotten graves 
 The saints and prophets lift a knell to 
 
 Thee ; 
 And on the wide-wayed paths and plains of 
 
 Heaven 
 Thine hosts await one archangelic word. 
 To loose the hurricane of a million wings, 
 If Thou but lift Thine eyes — those haunted 
 
 eyes 
 That seek the sky no more, but home in 
 
 dust ; 
 While on this hunger-starved and panting earth, 
 The spirit of Judea, smouldering still 
 In many a fruitful, patient one, shall leap 
 Like fire to fire and lift an answering 
 
 flame, 
 And light the everlasting legions here 
 To David's City. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 3t 
 
 " Jesus, Son of God, 
 All things in Heaven and earth and under 
 
 earth — 
 The beings that we men have never seen. 
 Who toil beyond our friendship in the 
 
 womb 
 Of this great world ; and they, the winged 
 
 ones. 
 Who haunt the air, yet make their presence 
 
 known 
 On hurtling wings that whistle in the 
 
 night ; 
 Monsters and demi-gorgons and the giants ; 
 And those 'twixt man and angel God hath 
 
 made 
 For His own purposes to move and live 
 Secluded from our sense — all, all cry out 
 In muffled thunder through the universe, 
 And lift their supplication at this hour 
 To draw Thee to Thy throne ! " 
 
 Even thus I spake ; 
 Even thus I prayed with supplicating hands 
 And voice of inspiration. He heard all, 
 
32 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 But answered with the lash of cold rebuke, 
 And bade me hide myself, nor meet his 
 
 gaze 
 Until my knees were weary of the earth. 
 Doth fealty, then, demand unthinking suit 
 Such as our dogs have power to render us ? 
 I thought not so, and smarted when he 
 
 chode, 
 Setting his wrath to human frailty. 
 That kindled into anger at the truth 
 Upon my tongue. Yet me he did not daunt : 
 I yielded not, nor mourned my earnest words, 
 Since they were winged with love of God and 
 
 Man, 
 But felt the more affirmed to urge him on 
 And onward. Yea, I studied deeper yet 
 How best to point the road that he must 
 
 go. 
 Since, man to man, I stronger felt than he 
 And mightier to hold the Light aloft, 
 Had I been chosen for the cresset-head. 
 Then, after prayer and fast and lonely hours. 
 As deep and secret as the master's own, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 33 
 
 There flashed upon my hardy soul from 
 
 God— 
 From God I fondly dreamed — the dreadful 
 
 deed 
 That doth confound me now. 
 
 JiLvEN thus I wrought -. 
 When round the Passover had come again 
 And to Jerusalem he set his face, 
 I learned your conclave sat in secrecy 
 And pondered still how best to overthrow 
 The man the people loved. Then hastened I 
 From Bethany and, with a stroke of guile 
 Deeper than yours, declared how I might 
 
 give 
 Jesus into your hands at dead of night. 
 When all the city slept. I feigned to sell 
 The man I thought was God ; and glad were 
 
 ye, 
 
 Haggling like hucksters in the mart of flesh. 
 To buy a prophet's blood for yonder trash 
 That blights the mottled marble of the floor. 
 Then there awoke the spirit we call Chance, 
 
34 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 To fool and fortify me at a breath ; 
 
 For clear unto my busy brain it seemed 
 
 That Jesus knew full well the thing I did, 
 
 And when this night in upper room we sat 
 
 At meat together, twice he smiled on me, 
 
 And I discerned approval in his eyes. 
 
 " Do quickly what thou doest." Thus he 
 
 spake ; 
 And I went forth into the deep blue night, 
 Kre yet the wonder of the lesser stars 
 Was dimmed before the moon. In hungry 
 
 joy 
 
 I ran to help the Son of God ; I came 
 
 And planned with ye to lead your servants 
 
 forth 
 Through the still olive gardens of that glade 
 Where best he loved to pray. 
 
 It was ordained 
 Where 1 should meet your people, where the 
 
 rout 
 And soldiers and centurion should bide 
 To wait me. Then with soul translated high, 
 Ecstatic, fleet of foot, along I went 
 
THE ISCARIOT 35 
 
 Through moonh't paths of the night-hidden 
 
 Mount, 
 That I might see if all were well with him. 
 Because he knew, indeed, that this still hour 
 Was great with his great destiny ; he knew 
 The orb and sceptre of all earth were set 
 Unto his blessed hand. Thus ran my thought, 
 And, hid behind an ancient bole, I saw, 
 In battle with the ever-living God, 
 My master all alone. 
 
 How small he looked — 
 How small and shrunk and desolate ! The 
 
 sight 
 My own high spirit quenched and chilled my 
 
 heart. 
 
 1 HOU knowest, O priests, how all our 
 
 rolling hills 
 Are clothed in misty green and flashing fires 
 That twinkle when the winds but touch the 
 
 woods. 
 Where in her lesrions doth the olive stand. 
 There is a glittering of silver light 
 
36 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Within them, and wine-purple shadows rove 
 Upon their billowing breasts. They are the 
 
 garb 
 And deathless vesture of our aged hills ; 
 They robe each undulation, knap, and knoll ; 
 And oft their name upon the sacred page 
 Of God's own message lies. In Spring they 
 
 scent 
 The air with myriad blossoms, and the joy 
 Of all their new-born leaves doth roll along — 
 A cloud of radiant silver o'er the Mount. 
 And later, ere the precious seed-time comes, 
 And harvest-fields grow white, and skin of 
 
 grape 
 Thins underneath the lustre of the bloom. 
 Their berries turn to ripeness, till each tree 
 Doth show her diadem of starry leaves 
 All gemmed with purple. And our God hath 
 
 said 
 That we shall strike them not a second time 
 And clamber not again amid the boughs. 
 To shower their treasure on the sheet out- 
 spread, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 37 
 
 But leave good measure of His gracious gift 
 For fatherless and widows, and for them 
 Who seek as strangers for our comforting. 
 A symbol thus of charity she stands ; 
 And so did Jesus seek her, for he read 
 Pure love into her loveliness ; he found 
 That fragrant peace and silence made their 
 
 homes 
 Amid her secret places. Them he sought ; 
 And now I watched, the while he sought in 
 
 vain. 
 I 'Tis an abode of eld, where Time's own self 
 May be surprised asleep, and primal things 
 Brood near, unseen but felt ; the mystery 
 Of peace stupendous, of a peace beyond 
 The gentlest whisper of a tongue to tell 
 Doth shroud this place ; and here, upon the 
 
 earth. 
 He knelt in torment. Round about his feet 
 The blood-red wind-flowers blew, their colour 
 
 sucked 
 Away by the white moon, and through the 
 
 bough 
 
38 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Low stars flashed largely from a fret of 
 
 leaves 
 Where dim, innumerable olives dreamed 
 Like smoke of myrrh and storax. 
 
 Hast thou heard 
 Old olive trees that murmur in the night? 
 Dost know the bated hush they keep? Hast 
 
 seen 
 The moon cast down at foot of every tree 
 A shadow, like an ebon garment dropped 
 From each time-foundered trunk ? All stunted, 
 
 gnarled, 
 They huddled round about him where he 
 
 knelt, 
 And made a cincture of their aged limbs 
 Above his secret agonies, as though 
 The venerable, grey ambassadors 
 Were pilgrims from another world than ours. 
 Where trees are conscious creatures. Ears 
 
 had they 
 And eyes: they heard and saw. In dismal 
 
 trance 
 Above his dolour, all the ambient air 
 
THE ISCARIOT 39 
 
 Was sunk and held its sorrowful breath 
 
 awhile, 
 Afraid to whisper. Interlacing boughs 
 By chance upon his lonely place of prayer 
 The shadow of a Roman cross threw down 
 Along the dew-white grasses ; and he saw 
 And swiftly marked the filthy symbol flung 
 Into that anguished hour. The moon shone 
 
 full 
 Upon his harrowed forehead, and I stared 
 To see his years had doubled in an 
 
 hour. 
 His burning, tearless eyes were lifted up 
 To mirror all the woe of all the world, 
 And blazing agony burned on his brow 
 Like a red flame ; he writhed and flung hiin 
 
 down 
 With face against the earth ; and his dire 
 
 load 
 Of torn and tortured clay upon this rack 
 Seemed like to perish ere he cast it off. 
 He fought, the soul embattled 'gainst the 
 
 flesh: 
 
40 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 And still most steadfastly I watched with 
 
 faith, 
 Believing in my heart that he was God. 
 Yet did I weep, for well I loved the man 
 And would have succoured him in that dark 
 
 hour. 
 But that I knew the battle now he waged 
 Might not be shared. I mourned his awful 
 
 grief; 
 And then to joy arose, and scarce could 
 
 hide 
 For longing to give praise. I watched and 
 
 saw 
 The Godhead conquer ! After bitter stress 
 He lifted up his head, destroyed the peace, 
 And thrilled the listening forest with a 
 
 prayer. 
 Aloud he wailed, and through the nightly 
 
 aisles 
 Of all that sylvan gloom his piteous voice 
 Like a lost spirit thrid. And thus he 
 
 cried : 
 " Father ! if it be possible, this cup 
 
THE ISCARIOT 41 
 
 Remove from me." Whereon the silence ~I 
 
 crept 
 
 Close, like a presence ; for not only he 
 
 But all earth listened, and that planet old 
 
 We call the moon, while in the upper air 
 
 Of widest welkin, not a single star 
 
 But ceased its throb to hear the Father's 
 
 voice 
 
 Ring through high Heaven. j 
 
 Now his haunted eyes 
 
 My master closed and waited patiently 
 
 If peradventure should an angel fly 
 
 With answer to his prayer. But all was still. 
 
 And since none came, a deep and doleful 
 
 breath 
 
 Shook him where still he knelt — a racking 
 
 sigh 
 
 That menaced his worn life and weary heart. 
 
 Again he spake, and in a voice resigned 
 
 Yielded his manhood and assumed the God. 
 
 " Not as I will, my Father, but as Thou 
 
 Shalt will, so be it ! " Then I knelt me 
 
 down 
 6 
 
42 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 Even as Jesus rose, all imminent, 
 
 And shone and towered above himself, as 
 
 though 
 Some cloud celestial he had been, that crowns 
 The heights of earth and lifts, itself a world, 
 To take the glory of the noonday sun 
 Upon its many mounting crests and domes, 
 And golden gleaming pinnacles. So he 
 Now stood transfigured, mighty, motionless. 
 His eyes uplifted upon Heaven's gate 
 To see the portals swing ! And to my sense. 
 Enthralled by this full moment, now it 
 
 seemed 
 The entranced night awakened at his word 
 And burst its long suspension — budded, 
 
 bloomed 
 In scent and song and joyful murmurings 
 Through every dusky dene and solemn depth 
 Of all those woodland ways. For nigh at 
 
 hand. 
 Within a*^ myrtle thicket^ by the path 
 That hither led, where the sweet mastic grows 
 And fragrant, hoary herbs defy the sun. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 43 
 
 The liquid music of a little bird 
 Now sudden tinkled forth melodiously. 
 ^ A hidden bul-bul had begun to sing 
 In dreams upon his perch, then waked himself 
 And poured from out that dewy dingle dark 
 A hymn of praise ; so that the bird and I 
 Were first of the world's creatures to proclaim 
 The Son of God. Then round about there 
 
 sprang 
 Great candid lilies from adoring earth, 
 That lifted all their silver censers sweet 
 About his dusty knees. Aloft there hung, 
 In ordered legions round the pascal moon, 
 A gathering fret and panoply of clouds, 
 That from their woven woof and web of pearl 
 About the orb, in one translucent cirque, 
 Cast a dim rainbow. Then they broke and 
 
 massed 
 Until the sky, to my transported sense, 
 Began to be alive with rushing wings 
 And swift, star-pointed lances. Knowing then 
 The time was come, I tore me from my 
 
 place, 
 
44 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 To speed where the impatient torches flashed 
 And men cried out for Judas. 
 
 l_yIKE a snake, 
 With rufous scales and smoking breath, we crept 
 Winding along the Mount. The patient trees 
 Took on our sanguine livery one by one ; 
 The owlet fled into the virgin dark 
 Before our riot. Scattered we the dew 
 From off" the grasses, bruised the sleeping 
 
 flowers. 
 And frighted things unseen in holt and den ; 
 We threaded still Gethsemane with fire 
 And stench and sooty smoke, that rolled aloft 
 Above the mail-clad men, till all the earth 
 Was fouled and violated ere we came 
 To his inviolate place. But I before 
 The mob so swiftly flew, they bade me stay, 
 Nor overrun their rabble. On we fared 
 Until we came where Jesus waited us, 
 Surrounded by those others who had slept 
 The while he suffered. Him I straightway 
 
 kissed 
 
THE ISCARIOT 45 
 
 And dreamed I signalled God ! Ye know the 
 
 rest. 
 No Father smiled on that deserted son ; 
 No fiery-footed cherubim swept down 
 To smite his foes ; no peal celestial shook 
 The grave of night to set the dayspring free ; 
 No heavenly beam, from that high place 
 
 above 
 The sun, shone out to dazzle earth. Instead 
 A lonely, broken, and deserted man 
 They haled among them to the judgment- 
 seat. 
 
 r RIESTS, I have sinned a thousand ways in 
 this. 
 Most precious, innocent blood is ceded up — 
 Most precious and most innocent and pure. 
 A spirit of unbounded worth is he 
 And high benignant purpose : not our God, 
 But ranged along with God, and yearning deep 
 To soothe the earth's wide, mordant miseries 
 
46 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 So far as one man may. And if he go 
 To the Roman beam, then it is I alone 
 That murder him and slay my only friend. 
 Oh, suffer no such everlasting curse 
 To fasten on my soul ! Be patient, Scribes, 
 For if this man is mad, then by how much 
 More mad am I, who dared to think myself 
 Subtler than God ? Here standeth one who 
 
 toiled 
 To guide the Everlasting and direct 
 His proper path ! What man run lunatic 
 Dreamed folly fearfuller ? 
 
 ' Know ye remorse ? 
 Ye cannot, for this Jesus ye would slay 
 Was first to find it. His concept of sin, 
 So dreadful, new, and pregnant, gave it birth ; 
 Out of his lofty soul the demon came — 
 A foul thing from a fair ; a pestilence ; 
 An evil exhalation given forth 
 By corpse of perished deed ; a death in life ; 
 A doom, a mortal poison that doth clog 
 The very springs of action. From the past — 
 The all-accomplished past — it crawleth back 
 
THE ISCARIOT 47 
 
 To rend the living present from our hands ; 
 It leapeth down upon the hehiisman, Hope, 
 Who steers each labouring barque of human 
 
 life, 
 And fastens on him, tiger-wise and fanged, 
 Until the tiller's free, the vessel wrecked. 
 It gnaws the lust of living from the heart. 
 Endeavour slays, emasculates the will ; 
 It broods and breeds and festers, till that 
 
 man. 
 Noble of heart enough to feel its power, 
 Carries a hideous load of gangrened soul 
 While yet his flesh is firm ; and thus he 
 
 moves 
 Amid the pinnacles of agony 
 That only spirits know, and shrieks aloud 
 His sleepless sin. Have I not often seen 
 Its ravages within those trusting hearts 
 That went along with him ? Aye, that I have, 
 And marvelled how he held the dreadful 
 
 power 
 With gentlest words to kill a bounding hope, 
 Or bring a hale and happy human soul, 
 
48 THE ISCA.RIOT 
 
 All joy, with life on tiptoe, down to this 
 Infernal depth and fling it suddenly- 
 Writhing and maimed upon the shards of sin, 
 Like a cut worm. And here stand I 
 
 destroyed 
 By this unspeakable and deadly bane ; 
 For though my purpose aimed as high as 
 
 Heaven, 
 Its overthrow now flings me to the deep, 
 With those accursed who betray their trust 
 And earn remorse : Hell's masterpiece. My 
 
 heart 
 Doth hold Gehenna — length and breadth and 
 
 verge ; 
 Its least and mightiest torments hide within 
 This single bosom, where but yesternight 
 I Homed all the bliss of Heaven ; and I 
 
 stand 
 Suppliant for death — the death ye measure 
 
 him. 
 Tormented am I to the raging core 
 Of my dark soul — all dazed and terrified, 
 Like to an over-driven beast, that glares 
 
THE ISCARIOT 49 
 
 And foams with thirst and pleads wild-eyed 
 
 for peace. 
 I loved him, loved him with most passionate 
 
 love ; 
 And that same love, now fallen on such bale, 
 By the Almighty's dread decree, doth bring 
 My toll of days in helpless, hopeless gloom 
 To death inexorable. 
 
 Dead indeed 
 Unto this world am I — wakened from dreams 
 Of Zion's far-flung glory to a morn 
 Most desolately dark. My country's good, 
 Her welfare and her triumph ultimate 
 Still lie within Jehovah's council hid. 
 'Tis not for me : 'tis never now for me 
 To run beside the chariot-wheel of God — 
 And that's a grief to slay a heart like 
 
 mine, 
 Fed on the manna of the promises 
 He breathed ; but worse is here of agony. 
 Most personal, particular, and close. 
 I loved the man, I say, and still love on, 
 Albeit the God was but a god-like dream. 
 
 7 
 
50 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 And what remains ? The man that dreamed 
 
 so well 
 Lies in your power, a jest for Roman slaves, 
 Who spit upon him by the guard-room fire. 
 Fling purple on his shoulders, thrust a reed 
 Within his patient hand and bid him tell 
 Their cursed names that smote him. His 
 
 great soul 
 Ye cannot mar, but mine ye must pollute 
 Beyond all strength but the Eternal's own 
 To cleanse, if ye shall crucify that man. 
 O Caiaphas, doth yet thy breast-plate hide 
 A heart beneath its twelve-fold splendour 
 
 bright ? 
 Then strive to feel therein what now I 
 
 feel, 
 And pity me in truth by pitying him, 
 ( Who at the Everlasting's whisper dark. 
 And secret will, by us not understood, 
 Was driven to declare himself Messiah. 
 jls that which we call madness also sin ? 
 Then half the world we pity, we should 
 
 damn. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 51 
 
 The mad are God's own mouthpiece ; wouldst 
 
 thou dare 
 Thus to destroy the chosen of the Lord ? 
 What sin dost find in him ? His gentle wits 
 Run over into this, and who is hurt? 
 Granted his word was vain ; yet all his acts 
 Who live, that love their neighbour as 
 
 themselves, 
 Can less than praise and honour ? He but 
 
 taught 
 That God is love ; then let that love of 
 
 loves 
 Cast out the fear for evermore ye preach ; 
 Oh ! let him mercy have, who mercy brought — 
 A gift from Heaven to the merciless. 
 Are ye akin to that unthinking herd 
 Who will cry " Crucify ! " when day is come, 
 Because their promised God is but a man ? 
 Do ye, too, seek to feed your priestly hate 
 On innocence? Nay, take the guilty one 
 Who well hath earned the worst that ye can 
 
 do. 
 'Tis I that should be crucified ; 'tis I 
 
52 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 That planned and plotted to confound your 
 
 craft 
 And cast you down to night ; 'tis I that 
 
 strove, 
 With all my passionate, unsleeping strength, 
 Upon your ruined synagogues to found 
 A Temple where no priests shall minister 
 Or cast their shadows between God and man ! 
 Take me and let him go. What sin is his? 
 What table hath he spread for hungry men 
 Ye could not sup at ? Search the Thora 
 
 through. 
 Ye shall not find a law to slay this man ; 
 And that done, seek again within yourselves, 
 Where sit the heavenly arbiters, and hear 
 What saith the still small voice that, like a 
 
 bell, 
 Strikes in the holy places of man's heart. 
 'Twill bid you pardon him and let him go 
 In peace away. 
 
 Oh ! ye that hold the power, 
 Wield it but gently o'er this innocent head, 
 Whose only thought was rescue of mankind. 
 
THE ISCARIOT 53 
 
 The man is young ; his universal love 
 Hath burnt him up. Enthusiasm deep, 
 With a fierce aura of divine desire, 
 Doth quite consume him, even while he 
 
 strives 
 By its celestial light to find his way, 
 And still existeth, sick almost to death. 
 Then let him pass in peace, where he hath 
 
 fought 
 And loved and striven, flinging forth his days 
 Like rainbows through the gloom of Palestine, 
 Till all are spent. Leave ye the man to God, 
 And suffer me to die for him. 
 
 Your heads 
 Ye shake against me. Ye resign and doom 
 This sad, unspotted fool of highest Heaven 
 To Golgotha ? Then heed a dying tongue 
 That tolls on life's last threshold and shall 
 
 sound 
 Never again for shadow-casting men. 
 May every piece of that foul silver there 
 Sparkling, as Satan's eyes beneath the Tree 
 Of Knowledge in the garden — may each one, 
 
54 THE ISCARIOT 
 
 All wet with Jesus' blood, go breed in hell 
 
 As money never bred on earth. May each 
 
 Beget a million dagger-pointed flames 
 
 To scorch and blister in your deathless flesh ; 
 
 May all the art of fiends devise such grief 
 
 As ruined souls have never known, till ye 
 
 Sink to the lowest vault and torture-house 
 
 Gehenna holds. Your cursed hearts are stone, 
 
 But in the fury of the nether fires 
 
 They'll crack at last, and tear your bosoms 
 
 out, 
 And leave you empty for the undying worm 
 To fret and gnaw through all eternity. 
 'Tis I that must be damned upon this earth 
 While my betrayal lives in memory 
 Misunderstood of ages ; yet an hour 
 Doth lie in time when the Eternal Hand 
 Shall seal forgiveness. Now I go my way, 
 To quit me of this dust men Judas call, 
 And take my lowly, penitential place 
 Before the portal of that secret State, 
 Where ghosts of men abide the will of God. 
 Thither I hasten, that when Jesus comes, 
 
THE ISCARIOT 55 
 
 The foremost of all spirits waiting him, 
 With forehead on the earth, the Iscariot kneels. 
 So shall he, reading in the bloody book 
 Of my sore, wounded soul, lift up his voice 
 And pardon , 
 
 {Jvdas goes out. Caiaphas and the rest j-ise. There is a i^rcal 
 expiration of breath and rustle of garments. Clear cold light has 
 * filled the sky, and the stars are no more seen, /enisalem lies 
 black against the whiteness of the dawn.) 
 
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