I CHRIST risen, commanded Thomas, saying "Begone! Proclaim my word in India!" but the Saint, Weak in the flesh, would suffer no constraint; Wherefore He called a dark-browed merchant, one Who dealt in slaves: "Abbanes ho! I bring My slave," the Master said, "a bondsman skilled At carpentry, well tutored, meet to build A palace for Gundaphoros thy king." -- Abbanes turned: "Art thou His slave?" he said; "Yea," answered Thomas, yielding; and for gold, As once his Master, Thomas now was sold; Who in the merchant's ship to India sped. And now the barque against the quay they warp, And as Abbanes ate and drank, his slave Sang of the Soul -- a Galilean stave; And lo, a Hebrew virgin brought a harp. "Daughter of Light," he sang, -- the wench's eyes Large with great love of kin and wonderment -- "Daughter of Light, before whose feet are bent Kings, and the great of earth, in lowly wise, Whose robes are woven of flowers from many Springs, -- An odour of bloom comes forth, and carol of birds, Or ever she breathes or uttereth sighs or words, Whose sandals kissed make wise the lips of kings: "Truth sits upon her forehead; thirty and two Are they who sing her praises; at her call Seven groomsmen wait, and gird her as a wall; Likewise before her feet seven virgins strew Cassia, sweet calamus, myrrh and cinnamon; She lifts her hand, and lo, in choral dance Twelve AEons, offspring of the Light, advance, Crowned by the Bride and Bridegroom, one by one. Her neck is as a tower, and either breast Like ivory, and the milk within them Love: Who eat her banquet hunger shall not move, Who drink her wine shall know eternal rest." He sang; and, singing, beasts beside the well Slew one who smote him, as the Saint foretold, Saying "A black dog in his teeth shall hold The hand which smites;" and so the thing befell. Whereat they marvelled. And the king, who heard, Cried out "What slave, Abbanes, hast thou brought?" And he, "O king, a builder wisely taught!" Wherefore Gundaphoros mused, and stroked his beard: "'Daughter of Light!' -- a goodly song, in sooth! Singing thou buildest! Build as thou dost sing, A builder thou and minstrel for the king: For lo, this day my daughter weds a youth; "And thou shalt sing what time the groomsmen quit The bridal chamber and the bashful bride Steals through the arras to her bridegroom's side: 'Daughter of Light' sing thou, and hearing it Wisdom may seal their nuptials, and her Rose Enwreathe their house porch; yea, and thou in time Shalt build their palace that the tree may climb Walls fit to bear its blossom as it grows." These things the Lord put in his heart to say, And Thomas bowed, and sang, and sang anew Of truth and Christ before those wedded two, And wisdom blossomed in their hearts that day. II Thus spake the king Gundaphoros to his slave: "Forasmuch as I am fain betimes to see Mine heirs housed in a palace sumptuously, Build now, and well, or tarrying build thy grave! Soon I go hence; the month is Dius now, In Xanthicus the bases must be laid." Said Didymus, "My lord shall be obeyed: Ere then the palace shall be built, I vow!" "Nay," quoth Gundaphoros, "lo, the frost is nigh! Go to! thou dost but say an idle thing! None build in winter." Thomas saith, "O king! In sun or frost I keep my vow, or die!" Then spake he thus -- and took a measuring reed -- "Thy windows shall behold the dawning Light, Thy lucent portals shame the pomp of night: Southward, to banquet all thy race at need, Vast granaries will I stablish; in the north, Which gazes on the azure hills, I lay Conduits, that men may see pure fountains play, And over all thy land the stream go forth." Whereat Gundaphoros mocked and wagged his head, Beholding all things ordered as he willed, -- "Thus ere the month Xanthicus wouldst thou build, Or meet thy death? Then soothly thou art dead!" So went his journey. And behold the slave Took all the wealth he left to build his dome, And went among the poor from home to home, Crying, "The king is gracious; this he gave To feed the famished, teach the unlettered poor, Uplift the orphan, give the sufferer ease, Make of the winter spring, and heal disease: In his name draw the bolt of every door! Let in the sunshine! Cleanse each squalid den!" So day and night he laboured, so he raised Asylums for the sick, and hourly praised The king whose palace is the hearts of men. Now sped Gundaphoros home, and with him Gad, The bridegroom's regal sire, to whom he cried (For now no more he deemeth Thomas lied) "Come, see a marvel! So we love the lad, Your son, our daughter's spouse, that we have built A home for him whereof the world shall ring, A palace meet to house a deathless king, -- Thanks to a slave who doeth what thou wilt, -- Buildeth in winter, hath a wondrous voice, Goadeth black hounds to slaughter at his nod: In sooth a Mage, or else a son of God; -- Come, haste and see!" And going they rejoice; And seek that place the apostle meted out: But lo, the sod unturned, the meadows sweet With grass and golden flowers and children's feet; Nor any hammer sounds; but people shout Wildly their welcome, and acclaim the king Bless'd as a God in heaven; yet he alone, Seeing no stone-built palace, turns to stone, Rails, threatens, curses, bids his warriors bring The traitor fettered in a thorny gyve, -- Nay, on a shield his carcass! Nay, his head Eyeless upon a trencher! Nay, not dead, For they shall see him flayed and baked alive! But lo, in that same hour, Gad falleth sick; "The slave! Go call the slave," the people cry, "The slave gives life, and certes he must die!" -- "Yea, life to Ghouls, and towers that lack a brick!" Gundaphoros thunders; yet no more forbids, But, seeing him now past mortal power to save, Beckons the bride, the bridegroom, and the slave, Who straightway kneel and kiss his ashen lids, Weeping; until at length the Doubter prays: "Christ, by the spear-wound in thy blessed side! O Master, patient when thy slave denied: Do thou, who raised Thyself, our brother raise!" The king hath stroked his beard and drunk his wine: "Now hath the mummer juggled? Let him bake!" His speech is thick and fierce: "Prepare the stake! Bring knives and faggots: wait the kingly sign, Then flay him!" Once again he strokes his beard, Gazing at Gad, and sees a dead man blush! His lips are parted; lo, they quiver! hush! "O daughter, speak! Was it a moan we heard?" A moan! a laugh! he turns upon his bed; His eyes are open, staring at the light; He laughs again: 'tis earth; but day, or night? "Sell me thy place!" That was all he said. "Gundaphoros, pause!" (he sees the whetted knives) "O pause! O spare him! I have seen a thing Which turns to dross the dowry of a king! We dote, we maunder, all our mortal lives! What of our weary getting showeth good? Our flaunting palaces, our fawning slaves -- They are but mutes and tombstones on our graves; Our wine is bitter with our foemen's blood; We strain at others' joys, and snare distress; Pride runs a bill, and Anguish pays her debt: Up! up! and snatch thy sandals from the net! There is naught good but Love and loveliness. "'Daughter of Light!' sang out a thousand choirs; A maiden led me apparelled like the moon Whose raiment turns our mortal night to noon; Eager, I neared the Fount of Fair Desires. Was it a palace? -- Thou in foolish pride Lookest for walls of loveless adamant: These walls have life; they glow, they thrill, they pant -- Thou feel'st them as a lover feels his bride. Was it a palace? -- There was warmth above; Colours of conches, birds, and on the floor Roses, and fragrance gushing through the door; The walls were music made of human love. "I craved an entrance: 'Nay,' the maiden said, 'There is a Name which opes the palace door; Another crown than thine methinks He bore: Take off thy crown; put ashes on thy head; The builder seek' (she smiled) 'or beg of one Who scorned the house to sell it unto thee; Or toil among the sick, and grasp the key; Or kneel and learn the Name beside thy son.' -- 'I am a king,' I cried, 'no toiling knave! Utter the price, and certes I will buy!' 'Thy kingdom,' said the maid; whereunto I: 'Who is the builder, then?' She said, 'The slave.'" Gad's tale is told. Now gleams the unglutted knife; "Spare him! O spare the slave!" the people cry; They weep, they wail, their clamour cracks the sky; Falling, the blade will cleave a nation's life. But lo, the king's left hand is on his crown, His right hand beckons: "Bring your captive here! Loose him, ye dogs," he thunders: loud they cheer! Before his feet he bids the Saint bow down: "A well-taught slave in sooth, and cheaply priced! Name thou thy Master; I would pay him more." The Name is named which opes the palace door: "Take this!" he said, "I yield my crown to Christ." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL A CERTAIN POET ON THE DEBATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: AT NICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |