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Edgar Lee Masters - Ballad Of Jesus Of NazarethEdgar Lee Masters - Ballad Of Jesus Of Nazareth
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I. It matters not what place he drew At first life`s mortal breath, Some say it was in Bethlehem, And some in Nazareth. But shame and sorrow were his lot And shameful was his death. The angels sang, and o`er the barn Wherein the infant lay, They hung a star, for they foresaw The sad world`s better day, But well God knew what thyme and rue Were planted by his way. The children of the Pharisees In hymn and orison Worshipped the prophets, whom their sires To cruel death had done, And said, "had we been there their death We had not looked upon." While the star shone the angels saw The tombs these children built For those the world had driven out, And smitten to the hilt, God knew these wretched sons would bear The self-same bloody guilt. Always had he who strives for men But done some other thing, If he had not led a hermit life, Or had not had his fling, We would have followed him, they say, And made him lord and King. For John was clothed in camel`s hair And lived among the brutes; But Jesus fared where the feast was spread To the sound of shawms and lutes, Where gathered knaves and publicans And hapless prostitutes. Like children in the market place Who sullen sat and heard, With John they would not mourn, nor yet Rejoice at Jesus` word; Had Jesus mourned, or John rejoiced, He had been King and lord. II. From Bethlehem until the day He came up to the feast We hear no word, we only know In wisdom he increased, We know the marvelous boy did awe The Pharisee and priest. For wearied men wake to admire A genius in the bud; Before the passion of the world Flows through him like a flood; Ere he becomes a scourge to those Who drink of mankind`s blood. Perhaps in him they saw an arm To keep the people still; And fool the meek and slay the weak And give the King his will; And put a wall for armŽd men `Round every pleasant hill. And this is why in after years The Galilean wept; The cup of youth was sweet with truth But a green worm in it crept; And that was dullness clothed in power, And hate which never slept. Through twenty years he drove the plane, And shaped with ax and saw; And dreamed upon the Hebrew writ Unto a day of awe, When he felt the world fit to his grasp As by a mighty law. He looked upon the sunny sky, And `round the flowering earth; He heard the poor man`s groan of woe, And the prince`s song of mirth; Then Jesus vowed the life of man Should have another birth. And this is why the Son of Man Wept when he knew the loss, The toil and sacrifice to cleanse A little earthly dross; And that a god to save twelve men Must die upon the cross. III. `Twas on a pleasant day in June Beneath an azure sky That `round him stood the multitude And saw within his eye The light that from nor sun nor star Ever was known to fly. And some came out to scoff and laugh, And some to lay a snare; The rhetorician gaped to see: The learnŽd carpenter. The money changer, judge and priest, And statesman all were there. Some thought the Galilean mad; Some asked, is he sincere? Some said he played the demagogue To gain the people`s ear, And raise a foe against the law That lawful men should fear. But all the while did C¾sar`s might Grow big with blood and lust; And no one brooked his tyrant arm, For the statesman said the crust That paupers gnaw is by the law, And that the law is just. From hunger`s hovel, from the streets; From horror`s blackened niche Earth`s mourners came and hands were stretched To touch him from the ditch. Then rose a Scribe and said he turned The poor against the rich. And those who hated C¾sar`s rule, Albeit sowed the lie That Jesus stirred sedition up That he might profit by A revolution, which should clothe Himself in monarchy. Through twice a thousand years the world Has missed the words he taught; To forms and creeds and empty show Christ never gave a thought, But wrongs that men do unto men They were the wrongs he fought. He did not eat with washen hands, Nor keep the Sabbath day; He did not to the Synagogue Repair to sing and pray. Nor for to-morrow take a thought, To mar life`s pleasant way. He saw that all of human woe Takes root in hate and greed; He saw until men love their kind The human heart must bleed. And that nor hymn nor sacrifice Meets any human need. And this is why he scourged the rich And lashed the Pharisee, And stripped from every pious face The mask hypocrisy; And so laced Mary Magdalene, Caught in adultery. And this is why with grievous fire He smote the lawyer`s lore. And every wile of cunning guile Which made the burden more Upon the backs of wretched men, Who heavy burdens bore. Therefore when that the hour was come For him to die, they blent Of many things a lying charge, But at last the argument They killed him with was that he stirred The people`s discontent. From thence the world has gone its way Of this truth, deaf and blind, And every man who struck the law Has felt the halter bind, Until his words were choked in death Uttered for human kind. Now did the dreams of Galilee Awake as from a sleep, Fly up from earth, and Life unmasked Life`s promise did not keep, And Jesus saw the face of Life, And all who see it weep. God`s spirit fled the damnŽd earth And left the earth forlorn. No more did Jesus walk the fields, And pluck the ripened corn; Nor muse beside the silent sea, Upon a summer`s morn. Before the heart of Christ was pierced With agony divine, He sat him down in a merry mood With loving friends to dine. And once in Cana he did turn The water into wine. Now put from shore, swept far to sea His shallop caught the tide, Arched o`er him was eternity `Twixt starless wastes and wide. God`s spirit seemed withdrawn that once Walked hourly at his side. IV. Gladly the common people heard And called upon his name. But yet he knew what they would do, Christ Jesus knew their frame, And that he should be left alone Upon a day of shame. Sharper than thorns upon the brow, Or nails spiked through the hand Is when the people fly for fear And cannot understand; And let their saviors die the death As creatures contraband. For wrongs that flourish by a lie Are hard enough to bear; But wrongs that take their root in truth Shade every brow with care; And this is why Gethsemane Was shadowed with despair. In dark and drear Gethsemane Hell`s devils laughed and raved, When Jesus torn by fear and doubt Reprieve from sorrow craved; For who would lose his life, unless Another`s life he saved? V. In youth when all the world appeared As fresh as any flower, Satan besought the Son of Man, New-clothed in godly power, And took him to behold the world Upon a lofty tower. To every man of god-like might Comes Satan once to give The crown, the crosier and the sword And bid him laugh and live, While Hope hides in the wilderness, A hunted fugitive. But neither gold nor kingly crown Tempted the Son of Man He hoped as many souls have hoped, Ever since time began, That love itself can overcome, Hate`s foul leviathan Some fix their faith to heaven`s grace, And some to saintly bones; Some think that water doth contain A virtue which atones; And some believe that men are saved By penitential groans. But of all faith that ever fired A spirit with its glow That is supreme which thinks that truth No power can overthrow; And he believes who takes and cleaves To the thorny way of woe! For life is sweet, and sweet it is With jeweled sandals shod To trip where happy blossoms shoot Up from the fragrant sod; And what sustains the souls that pass Alway beneath the rod? The book of worldly lore he closed And bound it with a hasp; And in the hour of danger came No king with friendly clasp. It was the hand of love against The anger of the asp. Since Jesus died the lust of kings Has linked the cross and crown; And slaughtered millions whom to save From heaven he came down; And all to tame the mind of man To his divine renown. But whether he were man or god This thing at least is true; He hated with a lordly hate The Gentile and the Jew, Who robbed the poor and wronged the weak, And kept the widow`s due. And those all clothed in raiment soft, Who in kings` houses dwell; And those who compass sea and land Their proselytes to swell; And when they make one he is made Two-fold the child of hell. And those who tithe of anise give, But sharpen beak and claw; And those who plait the web of hate The heart of man to flaw; And hungry lawyers who pile up The burdens of the law. I wonder not they slew the Christ And put upon his brow The cruel crown of thorns, I know The world would do it now; And none shall live who on himself Shall take the self-same vow. And none shall live who tries to balk The heavy hand of greed; And he who hopes for human help Against his hour of need Will find the souls he tried to save Ready to make him bleed. For he who flays the hypocrite, And scourges with a thong The money changer, soon will find The money changer strong; And even the people will incline To think his mission wrong. And pious souls will say he is At best a castaway; Some will remember he blasphemed And broke the Sabbath day. And the coward friend will fool his heart And then he will betray. At last the Scribe and Pharisee No longer could abide The tumult which his words stirred up In every country side; And so they made a sign, which meant He must be crucified. For him no sword was raised, no king Came forward for his sake; And every son of mammon laughed To see death overtake The fool who fastened to the truth And made his life the stake. VI. Upon a day when Jesus` soul Like an angel`s voice did quire, The heart of all the people burned With a white and holy fire; And they did sweep to make him king Over the world`s empire. His kingdom was not of this world, But this they would not own; And he to save themselves did go To a mountain place alone, And there did pray that holy Truth Might find somewhere a throne. When Henry was by Francis sought To make him emperor, They walked upon a cloth of gold, As sovereign lords of war. And trumpets blew and banners flew About the royal car. When Caesar back to Rome returned With all the world subdued, The soldiers and the priests did shout, And cried the multitude; For he had slain his country`s foes, And drenched their land with blood. But all the triumph of the Christ That ever came to pass Was when he rode amidst a mob Upon a borrowed ass; And this is all the worldly pomp A genius ever has. His cloth of gold were branches cut And strewn upon the ground; And every money-changer laughed, And the judges looked and frowned; But no one saw a flag unfurled, Or heard a bugle sound. To-day whene`er a coxcomb king Visits a foreign shore, The simple people deck themselves And all the cannon roar. But it would not do such grace to show To a soul of lordly lore. VII. Of all sad suppers ever spread For broken hearts to eat, That was the saddest where the Christ Did serve the bread and meat; And, ere he served them, washed with care Each worn disciple`s feet. And who would hold in memory That supper, let him call His loved friends about his board And serve them one and all; And with a loving spirit crown The simple festival. For this I hold to be the truth, And Jesus said the same; That men who meet as brothers, they Are gathered in his name; And only for its evil deeds A soul he will disclaim. Through climes of sun and climes of snow Full many a wretched knight, The holy grail, without avail Did make his life`s delight, And lo! the thing it symbolized Was ever in their sight. The cup whereof Christ Jesus drank Was wholly without grace; And whether made of stone or wood Was lost or broke apace. And no one thought to keep a cup While looking in his face. They kept no cup, their only thought Was for the morrow morn. And as he passed the wine and bread With pallid hands and worn, Peter did swear he would not leave His stricken lord forlorn. John, the beloved, on his breast, Wept while the hour did pass. Judas did groan when Jesus struck Behind his soul`s arras. All trembled for the bitter hate, And power of Caiaphas. But for that simple, farewell feast In Holland, France and Spain, Ten million men as true as John Were racked and burnt and slain, As if they held remembrance of The farewell feast of Cain. Had Jesus known what fratricide Over his words would fall I think he would have gone straightway Up to the judgment hall, And never broken bread or drunk The cup his friends withal. Though a good tree brings forth good fruit, What good bears naught but good? What sum of saintly life contains No grain of devil`s food? What purest truth when past its youth Is not its own falsehood? And every rod wherewith the wise Have cleft each barrier sea, That men might walk across and reach The land of liberty, In hands of kings were snakes whose stings Were worse than slavery. VIII. The rulers thought it best to wait Till Jesus were alone; They had forgot the coward crowd Never protects its own, But leaves its leaders to the whim Of wrong upon a throne. Had malcontents for Pilate sought To do a treasonous thing, Ten thousand loyal fishermen Had made the traitors swing; For they are taught they cannot live Unless they have a king. But soldiers came with swords and staves To sieze one helpless man. And only Peter had a sword To smite the craven clan And only Peter stood his ground, And all the people ran. I wish, since Jesus by the world Is held to be divine, That he had lived to give to men A perfect anodyne, And raise to human liberty A world compelling shrine. A shrine `round which should lie to-day The world`s discarded crowns, And swords and guns and gilded gawds And monkish beads and gowns; But, as it is, upon these things, They say, he never frowns. And only by an argument Can any being show That Jesus would chop out and burn These monstrous roots of woe. And so these roots are living yet, And still the roots do grow. Unto this day in divers lands Pilate is singled out For curses that he did not save Christ from the rabble`s shout; But they forget he was a judge, And had a judge`s doubt. The sickly fear of the rulers` sneer Clutches the judge`s heart. And to hide behind a hoary lie Is the judge`s highest art; And the judgment hall has a door that leads To the room of the money mart. The laws wherewith men murder men Are dark with skeptic slime; They are not stars that point the way To truth in every clime. Wherefore was Jesus crucified, For what was not a crime. When Pilate questioned what is truth He did not mean to jest; He meant to show when life`s at stake How difficult the quest Through hollow rules and empty forms To truth`s ingenuous test. And Pilate might have pardoned him Had not the lawyers said, The Galilean strove to put A crown upon his head. And how could Jesus be a king, Who blood had never shed? The trial of Jesus long ago Was cursed in solemn rhyme; For the judgment hall was but farcical And the trial a pantomime. Save that it led to a felon`s death For what was not a crime. The common people on that day Had enough black-bread to eat. And what to them was another`s woe Before the judgment seat? They were content that day to keep From pit-falls their own feet. Had Herod stood, whate`er the charge, Before the people`s bar The sophists would have cut it down With reason`s scimitar, And called the peasants to enforce The judgment near and far. And had they failed to save their king From every foul mischance The banded Anarchs of the world Had held them in durance, As afterward the crownŽd heads Did punish recreant France. IX. So it fell out amid the rout Of captain, lord and priest, They bound his hands with felon bands And they flogged him like a beast. And Pilate washed his hands, and then For them a thief released. And only women solaced him, And one mad courtesan, "Save thou thyself," the elders cried, "Who came to rescue man." Where were the common people then? The common people ran. Between two thieves upon a hill The terror to proclaim They racked his body on a cross Till his thirst was like a flame; And they mocked his woe and they wagged their heads, And they spat upon his name. God thought a picture like to this, Fire-limned against the sky, Once seen, would never fade away From the world`s careless eye; And that the lesson that it taught No soul could wander by. God thought the shadow of this cross, Athwart the mad world`s ken, Would stay with shame the hands that kill The men who die for men, And that no soul for love of truth Need ever die again. Many a man the valley of death With fearless step hath trod; The prophet is a phoenix soul, And the wretch is a sullen clod. But Jesus in his death became Liker unto a god Liker unto a god he grew Who walked through heaven and hell; He died as he forgave the mob That `round the cross did yell. They knew not what they did, and this Jesus, the god, knew well. For hate is spawned of ignorance And ignorance of hate. And all the fangŽd shapes that creep From their incestuous state Enter the gardens of the world, And cursŽd keep their fate. Near Gadara did Jesus drive By an occult power and sign The unclean devils from a loon Into a herd of swine. But the swinish devils entered the Scribes, And slew a soul divine. Christ healed the blind, but could not ope The eyes of ignorance, Nor turn to wands of peace and love Hate`s bloody sword and lance; But the swinish fiends who took his life Received a pardoning glance. And Jesus raised the dead to life, And he cured the lame and halt But he could not heal a hateful soul, And keep it free from fault; Nor bring the savour back again To the world`s trampled salt. X. After his death the rulers slept, And the judges were at ease; For they had killed a rebel soul And strewed his devotees; But the imp of time is a thing perverse, And laughs at men`s decrees. For it is vain to kill a man, His life to stigmatize; Herein the wisdom of the world Is folly to the wise; For those the world doth kill, the world Will surely canonize. To look upon a lovŽd face By the Gorgon Death made stone, Will make the heart leap up with fear And the soul with sorrow groan; Alas! who knows what thing he knew Ere the light of life was flown? Who knows what tears did start to well, But were frozen at their source? Who knows his ashen grief who felt That iron hand of force? Or what black thing he saw before He grew a lifeless corse? And, much of hope, but more of woe Falls with the chastening rod, As the living think of an orphan soul That the spectral ways may trod, And how that orphan soul must cry In its new world after God. So the fisherman did sigh at night, For a dream-face haunted them. By day they hid as branded men Within Jerusalem. And the common people, safe at home, Did breathe a requiem. But where he lay, one fearless soul, Mad Magdalene, from whom Christ cast the seven devils out, Came in the morning`s gloom, And thence arose the burning faith That Christ rose from the tomb But all do know the mind of man Mixes the false and true, And deifies each Son of God That ever hatred slew; And weaves him magic tales to tell Of what the man could do. The legends grow, as grow they must The wonder to equip. And ere they write the legends out, They pass from lip to lip, Till a simple life becomes a theme For studied scholarship. But this I know that after Christ Did die on Calvary, He never more did preach to men, Nor scourge the Pharisee; Else it was vain to still his voice And nail him to a tree. Nor scribe nor priest were ever more By him disquieted. And little did it mean to them That he rose from the dead. For greed can sleep when it has killed The thing that it did dread. And never a king or satrap knew That Christ the tomb had rent; He might have lived a second life, With every lord`s consent, If never more he sought to stir The people`s discontent. He might have risen from the dead And gone to Galilee; And there paced out a hundred years In a sorrowed revery, If he but never preached again The creed humanity. XI. To distant lands did Jesus` words, Like sparks that burst in flame, Fly forth to light the ways of dole, And blind the eyes of shame, Till subtle kings, to staunch their wounds, Did conjure with his name. When kings did pilfer Jesus` might, His words of love were turned To swords and goads and heavy loads, And rods and brands that burned; And never had the world before So piteously mourned. Of peasant Mary they did make A statue all of gold; And placed a crown upon her head With jewels manifold. And Jesus` words were strained and drawn This horror to uphold. They robed a rebel royally, And placed within his hand A scepter, that himself should be One of their murderous band. And it is tragical that men Can never understand. For Herod crowned the carpenter With woven thorns of hate. And put a reed within his hand A king to imitate. Now kings have made a rebel soul The patron of the state. And kingcraft never hatched a lie, This falsehood to surpass. For Jesus` only hour of pomp Was what a genius has; He rode amidst a howling mob Upon a borrowed ass. Though his cloth of gold were branches cut And strewed upon the ground; And though the money-changers laughed, While the judges looked and frowned; To-day for him the flag is flown, And all the bugles sound. To-day where`er the treacherous sword Takes lord-ship in the world, The bloody rag they call the flag, In his name is unfurled. And round the standard of the cross Is greed, the python, curled. For wrongs that have the show of truth Are hard enough to bear, But wrongs that flourish by a lie, Shade wisdom`s brow with care. And still in dark Gethsemane There lurks the fiend Despair. And still in drear Gethsemane, Hell`s devils laugh and rave, Because the Prince of Peace hath failed The wayward world to save. For every word he spoke is made A shackle to enslave. Man`s wingd hopes are white at dawn, But the hand of malice smuts. O, angel voices drowned and lost Amid the growl of guts! O spirit hands that strain to draw A dead world from the ruts! God made a stage of Palestine, And the drama played was Life; And the Eye of Heaven sat and watched The true and false at strife; While a masque o` the World did play the pimp, And take a whore to wife. I wonder not they slew the Christ, And put upon his brow A mocking crown of thorns, I know The world would do it now; And none shall live who on himself Shall take the self-same vow. And none shall live who tries to balk The heavy hand of greed. And who betakes him to the task, That heart will surely bleed. But a little truth, somehow is saved Out of each dead man`s creed. Out of the life of him who scourged The Scribe and Pharisee, A willing world can take to heart The creed humanity; And all the wonder tales of Christ Are naught to you and me. And it matters not what place he drew, At first life`s mortal breath, Nor how it was his spirit rose And triumphed over death, But good it is to hear and do The word that Jesus saith. Until the perfect truth shall lie Treasured and set apart; One whole, harmonious truth to set A seal upon each heart; And none may ever from that truth In any wise depart.
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