Poems (Hardy)/Gratian by the fountain
GRATIAN BY THE FOUNTAIN
"YEA, I am that Gratian; and I stood by
And saw, as all the cohort, there among
The olive trees, where he, the Man,—they said
He was a Galilean,—came fearless forth.
And I fell prostrate, face to ground—'From awe?'
I know not, yet I know I could not choose,—
They could not choose. My brother was the chief;
He says the Man was else a wizard, or a god,
For he, my brother, fell, the strongest man
In Cesar's guard. A Jew there was that stood
With us, and nearest me, there in the press;—
'T was he that led us to the place. I heard
Him curse and felt his breath across my cheek
And drew away the hand his mantle touched.
Next day, I saw a withered tree with leaves
Heart-shaped that hung like clots of blood; they said
That black-browed man of wrath hung dead upon it
Before the dreadful hour which put the sun out
And covered all the world with darkness chilly
As the grave's mould and terrible as death.
I know not, but I saw its leaves all dead
That were before so tender with the glow of spring.
And saw, as all the cohort, there among
The olive trees, where he, the Man,—they said
He was a Galilean,—came fearless forth.
And I fell prostrate, face to ground—'From awe?'
I know not, yet I know I could not choose,—
They could not choose. My brother was the chief;
He says the Man was else a wizard, or a god,
For he, my brother, fell, the strongest man
In Cesar's guard. A Jew there was that stood
With us, and nearest me, there in the press;—
'T was he that led us to the place. I heard
Him curse and felt his breath across my cheek
And drew away the hand his mantle touched.
Next day, I saw a withered tree with leaves
Heart-shaped that hung like clots of blood; they said
That black-browed man of wrath hung dead upon it
Before the dreadful hour which put the sun out
And covered all the world with darkness chilly
As the grave's mould and terrible as death.
I know not, but I saw its leaves all dead
That were before so tender with the glow of spring.
"'That darkness was?' Ay, so, that darkness was.
(Sit still, thou restless child beside the fount.
Crowd not my feet, young Varus, into shade;
I like the sunshine better now than thou
Canst like the wrestling games at school at play,
Or sight of lithe long tigers in the dens
Along the circus walls.—Run, Lelia dear,
And bring me figs from that low-branching tree
Thou knowest I love,—the yellow, not the blue,—
And hasten ere I tell the tale of wolves
'That dwell among Carrara's hills.)
'That dwell among Carrara's hills.)'Didst see
Him near?' Ay, so; it fell to me that day
To stand and watch; and with the rabble crowd
Of raging Jews I saw that Man who spoke
No single word, but looked—he looked a god
That had no fear of men! And yet as one
Who could have wept for men. They buried him
When he was dead.—Nay, ask me not,—dead, dead,
He was, I say; I saw them take him down.
Shaken with the rocking earth was all around,
There in the dark when he gave up his breath
And died. And I was one who watched at night
Beside his tomb. O, what I saw and heard—
Let me tell this:
Let me tell this:I know not if the gods
We serve in Rome be gods; them have I seen
In no time of my life; when I have called
At sorest need, none seemed to answer; thrice
In battle was I hurt, as 't were to death;
And once by robbers was I set upon
In arms with two who watched a road with me.
Left for dead we were, all three; Varus breathed
Enough to say, 'Live, Gratian; kill with my spear
That Captain of the thieves; 'tis Barrabas; he
That slew my father; 'tis my father's spear.'
He died, but Sextus never spoke; all three
Were soldiers of the guard; they two were dead,
And I lay fever-smitten with my wounds
A month ere I could speak to tell our tale.
Then in that city times of tumult rose,
And when I walked the streets again, a storm
Of trouble swept Judea's world; but Rome
Was mistress; Rome was power by shore and sea.
But everywhere the Jews were many minds,
Mostly evil toward our gods; unagreed
As touching theirs, and swayed among themselves,
Torn by factions, bitter even to death
And prison walls.
And prison walls.The Man whose tale you seek?
Him I knew at Nazareth; he made a chest for me
Of cedar wood,—a boy, there, in the shop
Upon a certain narrow street that crept
Thus, and thus, toward the hills as 't were the way
The shepherds take. Some said the Boy grew up
A trifling man that went about among
The country places idly babbling words
Of strange import to gaping crowds,—strange words
Of what he most averred he was; some said
He cured the sick, ay, raised the dead. I met
One man who showed both arms and hands as whole
As yours,—a common man I once had known
With withered, dead right arm; but he was scorned
By his own people if he said 't was so.
Ah, well, 'tis hard to know the truth, I find,
Even when you see and hear; but none shall wrest
From me these things I know, because I saw
With open eye. What I do know, I know.
And so men say of me,—"Ay, Gratian knows
What Gratian says he knows." Well, then, believe,—
You may believe,—these other marvels that I tell:
(Sit still, thou restless child beside the fount.
Crowd not my feet, young Varus, into shade;
I like the sunshine better now than thou
Canst like the wrestling games at school at play,
Or sight of lithe long tigers in the dens
Along the circus walls.—Run, Lelia dear,
And bring me figs from that low-branching tree
Thou knowest I love,—the yellow, not the blue,—
And hasten ere I tell the tale of wolves
'That dwell among Carrara's hills.)
'That dwell among Carrara's hills.)'Didst see
Him near?' Ay, so; it fell to me that day
To stand and watch; and with the rabble crowd
Of raging Jews I saw that Man who spoke
No single word, but looked—he looked a god
That had no fear of men! And yet as one
Who could have wept for men. They buried him
When he was dead.—Nay, ask me not,—dead, dead,
He was, I say; I saw them take him down.
Shaken with the rocking earth was all around,
There in the dark when he gave up his breath
And died. And I was one who watched at night
Beside his tomb. O, what I saw and heard—
Let me tell this:
Let me tell this:I know not if the gods
We serve in Rome be gods; them have I seen
In no time of my life; when I have called
At sorest need, none seemed to answer; thrice
In battle was I hurt, as 't were to death;
And once by robbers was I set upon
In arms with two who watched a road with me.
Left for dead we were, all three; Varus breathed
Enough to say, 'Live, Gratian; kill with my spear
That Captain of the thieves; 'tis Barrabas; he
That slew my father; 'tis my father's spear.'
He died, but Sextus never spoke; all three
Were soldiers of the guard; they two were dead,
And I lay fever-smitten with my wounds
A month ere I could speak to tell our tale.
Then in that city times of tumult rose,
And when I walked the streets again, a storm
Of trouble swept Judea's world; but Rome
Was mistress; Rome was power by shore and sea.
But everywhere the Jews were many minds,
Mostly evil toward our gods; unagreed
As touching theirs, and swayed among themselves,
Torn by factions, bitter even to death
And prison walls.
And prison walls.The Man whose tale you seek?
Him I knew at Nazareth; he made a chest for me
Of cedar wood,—a boy, there, in the shop
Upon a certain narrow street that crept
Thus, and thus, toward the hills as 't were the way
The shepherds take. Some said the Boy grew up
A trifling man that went about among
The country places idly babbling words
Of strange import to gaping crowds,—strange words
Of what he most averred he was; some said
He cured the sick, ay, raised the dead. I met
One man who showed both arms and hands as whole
As yours,—a common man I once had known
With withered, dead right arm; but he was scorned
By his own people if he said 't was so.
Ah, well, 'tis hard to know the truth, I find,
Even when you see and hear; but none shall wrest
From me these things I know, because I saw
With open eye. What I do know, I know.
And so men say of me,—"Ay, Gratian knows
What Gratian says he knows." Well, then, believe,—
You may believe,—these other marvels that I tell:
"Yes, when he died upon the cross, the sun
Was darkened and the earth trembled; some say
That greater wonders were, for from their graves
The dead came forth and walked the streets and praised
The living God. 'T was dark, the earth did shake;
These things I felt; but those I know not of.
Aulus, my centurion, was afraid; he cried,
'This was, this was, the son of God!' We watched
Together at the tomb; we saw the stone rolled back,
But who came forth, or what, we saw not,—no,—
For we were blinded, thrown to earth by light,—
A blaze of wondrous light,—and terrors shook
Our hearts till we were near to death; for hours
We spoke no word,—were dumb as are the dead.
There was a man, a little hawk-faced man
With piercing eyes, who held a thumb-pinched coin
Beneath the face of Him they killed, and cried,
'To Cæsar, thou hast said! So shall it be,
Thou blasphemer.' And there was one who mocked
With bitter laugh,—O, none showed pity,—none!
But most I thought,—and still that thought will come
At night when I am waked by dream of Him,—
He was a god, and I to Him beholden am;
And glad the feeling is, for surely, then,
If there be gods have I seen one; and life
Must still go on wherever He may be.
Ay, so I will believe, I will believe."
Was darkened and the earth trembled; some say
That greater wonders were, for from their graves
The dead came forth and walked the streets and praised
The living God. 'T was dark, the earth did shake;
These things I felt; but those I know not of.
Aulus, my centurion, was afraid; he cried,
'This was, this was, the son of God!' We watched
Together at the tomb; we saw the stone rolled back,
But who came forth, or what, we saw not,—no,—
For we were blinded, thrown to earth by light,—
A blaze of wondrous light,—and terrors shook
Our hearts till we were near to death; for hours
We spoke no word,—were dumb as are the dead.
There was a man, a little hawk-faced man
With piercing eyes, who held a thumb-pinched coin
Beneath the face of Him they killed, and cried,
'To Cæsar, thou hast said! So shall it be,
Thou blasphemer.' And there was one who mocked
With bitter laugh,—O, none showed pity,—none!
But most I thought,—and still that thought will come
At night when I am waked by dream of Him,—
He was a god, and I to Him beholden am;
And glad the feeling is, for surely, then,
If there be gods have I seen one; and life
Must still go on wherever He may be.
Ay, so I will believe, I will believe."