Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO DREYFUS: FROM THE CRUCIFIX, by HARRIET ELEANOR HAMILTON (BAILLE) KING


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO DREYFUS: FROM THE CRUCIFIX, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My brother! Oh, refuse me not the name
Last Line: And, unresisting, fall upon my heart.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton-king, Harriet Eleanor
Subject(s): Dreyfus, Alfred (1859-1935)


MY brother! Oh, refuse me not the name,
Our race at least, thou knowest, is the same;
My mother was a Jewess, even as thine,
And I was born and died in Palestine.
Even now we gaze into each other's eyes
Across the crowded court—no barrier lies
Between us—thou and I, and none besides,
Hold converse; and thy tortured soul abides
Safe in the hands that will not let thee fall;
I, too, stood once within the Judgment Hall.
Thine eyes of martyrdom, still, still they fix
Their steadfast gaze upon the Crucifix.
What do they see? Are not these answering eyes
Heavy with weeping for thine agonies?
Behold the passion of thy bleeding heart
Tears in my side the dripping wound apart;
In every limb and line dost thou not know
The reflex of thyself and all thy woe?
And looking down, day after day, I see
Myself once more the Crucified in thee.
Turn not away from me—hast thou not worn
With me through all these years my crown of thorn?
I am thy beggar for a look—but thou,
O kinsman, body and soul, must scorn me now!
Yet all the hosts of heaven know thee for mine;
And in the sight of all men, for my sign
Beams from thy brow in proud magnificence
The glory of thy martyr innocence.

Thou hast stood firm in innocence, and trod
The straight way, trusting in our fathers' God;
Thou true to Him, He has been true to thee,
Or how hadst thou endured thine agony?
Yea, cast alive to devils, thou hast known
The Lord was stronger to preserve His own.
His angels camped on the infernal isle,
And kept at bay the demons of the dark,
And bore thee in their hands that hideous while,
Into the daylight for the whole world's mark;
While the false witnesses, self-sentenced, fell,
By their own hands cast headlong into hell:
Yea, and our father David's Psalms stand true,
"Into the pit they digged they have fallen through."
God and His angels are for thee—but thou,
Knowest thou nothing more? Remember how
When those three children of our royal seed
Were cast into the sevenfold-heated flame,
The king himself beheld them walking freed
Amidst the furnace, and a fourth with them,
Whose form was like the Son of God? My own,
Oh, my beloved, I know—hast thou not known?
Through awful years that seemed without an end,
With never the voice or hand of any friend?
But I was there too, Dreyfus, I was there!
Through the vile torture of the public square
I walked beside thee—it was my voice rent
The ear with thine, crying, "I am innocent!"
And in the stifling darkness of thy cell
My arms were round thee, till the hot tears fell
And saved thy burning brain; when night came on
I kissed thy wounded feet, my piteous one,
And bathed them with my tears; oh, didst thou think
Thou wast alone thy bitter cup to drink?
But when thou comest into Paradise,
Where Abraham and our forefathers dwell,
And all our holy ones of Israel,
Thou wilt look up at me and recognise
This face of mine—How long, alas! how long
Must I endure this open shame and wrong?

I know, I know thou canst not love me yet,
Because of Judas' kiss upon me set,
By those who cry "Lord, Lord," and in my name
Have heaped these years of infamy and shame.
But in that day I say to them, "Depart!
I never knew you"—thou wilt understand,
Thou who on earth my standard-bearer art,
O my Compatriot of the Holy Land!
And, unresisting, fall upon my heart.





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