S!««!SNS<5SSS*«S«S 
 

NICODEMUS 
 
 BY 
 
 O R A C R SHAW 1 ) U K K 
 
 Illustrated by FREDERICK C. GORDON 
 
 Boston 
 •flrtiia I3ubli8l)ing Compang 
 
 COPLEY SQUARE 
 1895 
 
 V. 
 
 10 1896' W^^ 
 
rS?'^ 
 
 X^"^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 CoprmciiTicD, 1895, 
 
 UY 
 
 Chai'I'. Smaw Duff. 
 All i-iKlits reserved. 
 
v/j rtvKD now was come that last great day of the 
 feast ; 
 The golden glory of a rising sun 
 Decked roof and dome, and edged with lus- 
 trous line 
 
 The gently swaying palms. Some slanting rays 
 The hillside caught, to weave in spectrum looms 
 Bright broidered vestments for the pale myrtle 
 And fragrant citron flower. The modest moon, 
 Intent on flight, had left some shreds of mist 
 With which she had draped her silver horn ; this 
 Bolder orb, with small regard for others' 
 Gaze, swept first the valley clear, then poured 
 His wealth of blazing light down Kedron's plain. 
 

II. 
 
 HE long white road made liere and there a 
 turn 
 To shun a jutting slope, or join itself 
 To share awhile the river's graceful curve, 
 Then stretched its dusty way toward Bethany. 
 Some early comers gathered to the feast, 
 Kinsfolk and friends, and came with reverent minds 
 And faithful hearts to pay again their sacred vows. 
 The men discussed at length the olive yield 
 And what perchance might prove success or no 
 In some new venture to enrich the vine ; 
 While mothers backward turned, content to fit 
 Their lingering steps to pace of little feet. 
 
IIT. 
 
 ITHIN" the city's walls unusnal stir 
 Begins, to meet the day's unusual need. 
 Long lines of furbished booths a jiirring mass 
 Of color make, while awnings UKjve like 
 wings 
 
 Of huge bright birds that ne'er alight. Some pens 
 Hold tethered lambs that patient wait beside 
 Their dams their unknown fate to meet. Distinct 
 From harsher cries, one hears the soft round sound 
 Of cooing doves whose gentle lives will end 
 In fitting death — as ransom for our sins. 
 
f# 
 
IV. 
 ^Lf^ MOTLEY crowd that fills the streets and 
 squares 
 
 -^'ST^j-'i.G'^Kg-^ Awaits the Levites' call. The strong bring f)\it 
 i^^3^j Their maimed and halt, and haste to claim 
 for them 
 
 An upper place upon the Temple steps, 
 And there, with artful skill, to well dispose 
 Their loathsome charms ; while in and out the crowd. 
 The busy venders hawk unsavory wares 
 Or meet with ready wit some idle jest; 
 Some graver men exchange more earnest thought, 
 And (^[uestion if the Nazarene will speak 
 To-day ; or tell with awe some wondrous sign 
 The man has done to fit his wondrous words. 
 
V. 
 OR months he has roamed the Galilean towns 
 And tanght the peo})le there, and healed their 
 
 sick, 
 And even hack to life called some that died ! — 
 At least so runs the tale. He earns his bread 
 In sweat of daily toil, and still, they say, 
 He claims to be the Christ ! — of course 'tis false, 
 For when Messiah comes, He'll come as King. 
 And yet 'tis strange what gives the man his power 
 
vr. 
 
 jNE night from sleepless bed I rose, aiul went 
 
 To where he lodged, and bade the porter say 
 
 One Nicodemus — ruler — came, and speech 
 
 Would have with him. There was no moon. 
 
 but hosts 
 
 Of stars, and soft, pale glow from shaded lamps 
 Made silver light. The air was still, with just 
 Enough of life to waft at times a faint 
 Sweet oleander scent, and gently float 
 Some loosened petals down. I heard no sound, 
 But sudden knew another presence near, 
 
Ami turned to where he stood : one hand held back 
 
 The curtain's fold ; the other clasped a roll. 
 
 No king could gently bear a prouder mien ; 
 
 And when I gracious rose to offer meet 
 
 Respect to one whose words had won for him 
 
 Regard, I strangely felt like loyal slave, 
 
 And almost ...'•' Master ! " trembled on my lips 
 
 A deep, brave look shone in his eyes, as if 
 
 He saw the whole of mankind's needs, yet dared 
 
 To bid him hope, and when he spoke, his words 
 
 And voice seem fitted parts of some great psalm. 
 
 ■'■'-''^^•sr'Miijrt,,,.,,,.^,,^^- 
 
 
vir. 
 
 'T midnight, once I saw the sea ; each wave 
 Uplifted on its crest a silver moon 
 Which made the hollows deeper seem ; far off 
 In rhythmic measure, 'long the shore, I heard 
 The billows die away. His eyes, His voice- 
 That midnight sea of licpiid moons, with deep, 
 Low music in its lapsing waves, since then 
 A single picture in my memory make. 
 
1^ 
 
VITL 
 HE throng soon crowded through the Temple 
 gates. 
 I foHowed too, and thought, perchance I'll see 
 Those eyes antl hear that voice again. Thick 
 clouds 
 
 Of incense rise and wrap their vaprous folds 
 Around the frieze and through the vaulted dome, 
 While blasts of silver horns make (piiver all 
 The heated air: long lines of priests attend 
 In turn the altar's sacred fire, or pour 
 Libations on the steaming pile. The men 
 Unceasing wave their myrtle boughs, and hold 
 Aloft "the fruit of goodly trees," while priests 
 And Levites antiphone the psalm ; then all 
 The people join the Hallel's words, and end 
 The chant in one tremendous burst of praise. 
 
IX. 
 
 WAS then lie spoke. I heard that voice 
 
 again. 
 iW/^i The Temple hushed its sounds to listen too. 
 ^^?^ Like forest trees whose leaves expectant 
 
 hang 
 And wait the coming breeze, the people stood 
 To catch his words. Our father's God, long past 
 By Moses spake, and down through all these years 
 The Law has been reproof and guide — reproof 
 For deeds undone, and guide for deeds to come. 
 But this man knew the thirst that parched men's lives, 
 A thirst the Law could not assuage. His words, 
 Tho' strange, seemed true, and somewhere in my heart 
 I felt a stir of newer life — and still 
 Perhaps not new, so much as very old. 
 
X. 
 
 OME closer pressed, as if h's burning words 
 Found ready welcome in their waiting hearts. 
 The old that sluml)ered there awoke to meet 
 Its risen self, alive in newer form, 
 Like moths who feel their new-unfolded wines 
 
 Outspread upon the buo^yant air, and think 
 
 A new creation marks the summer day. 
 
 'Tis true the wings that skyward mount are new 
 
 The power is old that bids the wings to fly. 
 
\ 
 
 C^^'^ 
 
XI. 
 
 OT many words lie spoke, nor lingered long, 
 For soon among the crowd some murmuring 
 Voices broke the spell, and pushing toward 
 
 him 
 
 Came the guard to drag him thence ; but by 
 Them all he calmly walked, and out the gate, 
 And no man stayed his way. But as he turned 
 I looked again into his eyes, and in 
 Their depths my soul met his — and then I knew 
 In very truth — He was the Son of God. 
 
c^ 
 
 \ 
 
XTI. 
 
 For him. 
 
 E have a law tliat none be judged to death 
 
 Before himself has pled his cause. That day 
 I begged the counsel call the Nazarene ; 
 The claim he made should win at least respect. 
 Alas ! my words had little use, at least 
 For me they seemed the tirst faint breath 
 With which the spirit's born. He said 'twas like 
 The wind, it came and Avent, and no man knew 
 From whence or Avhere. I left the council hall 
 With deep, exultant hope that what he said 
 Was true — and heeded not their taunting cry : 
 "■ Go search and see, 
 No prophet comes from Galilee." 
 

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