The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 54

SABALLIDIN: Hath she not heard?

RUAHMAH: But one brief message came: A letter saying, "We have fought and conquered,"

No word of his own person. Fares he well?

SABALLIDIN: Alas, most ill! For he is like a man Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,-- His eyes are dimmed so that he scarce can see; His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale As one who walks to meet a certain doom Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,-- But you shall see.

RUAHMAH: Yea, we shall see a man Who dared to face the wrath of evil powers Unknown, and hazard all to save his country.

[Enter BENHADAD with courtiers.]

BENHADAD: Where is my faithful servant Naaman, The captain of my host?

SABALLIDIN: My lord, he comes.

[Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. Then four soldiers bearing captured standards of a.s.shur. NAAMAN follows, very pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself by cords from the standards on each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the temple open slightly, and REZON appears at the top of the steps. NAAMAN lets the cords fall, and gropes his way for a few paces.]

NAAMAN: [Kneeling.]

Where is my King?

Master, the bearer of thy sword returns.

The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke On him who sent it. a.s.shur's Bull hath fled Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine!

Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free!

BENHADAD: [Holding out his arms.]

Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come, And let me fold thy courage to my heart.

REZON: [Lifting his rod.]

Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men!

By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim This man a leper! See, upon his brow, This little mark, the death-white seal of doom!

That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh, Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until The impious heart that dared defy the G.o.ds Dissolves in the slow death which now begins.

Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead: No human hand shall touch him, and no home Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk Only with corpses of the selfsame death Down the long path to a forgotten tomb.

Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all, Leave him to G.o.d,--the leper Naaman!

[All shrink back horrified. REZON retires into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing; TSARPI is among the first to go, followed by her attendants, except RUAHMAH, who crouches, with her face covered, not far from NAAMAN.]

BENHADAD: [Lingering and turning back.]

Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son!

Why did I let thee go? I must obey.

Who can resist the G.o.ds? Yet none shall take Thy glorious t.i.tle, captain of my host!

I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell With guards of honour in a house of mine Always. Damascus never shall forget What thou hast done! O miserable words Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power Given to kings who cannot even defend Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven!

O Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.]

NAAMAN: [Slowly pa.s.sing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.]

Am I alone With thee, inexorable one, whose pride Offended takes this horrible revenge?

I must submit my mortal flesh to thee, Almighty, but I will not call thee G.o.d!

Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find The way to let my wounded soul escape!

[Drawing his sword.]

Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom He sends me? Irretrievably cut off From all dear intercourse of human love, From all the tender touch of human hands, From all brave comradeship with brother-men, With eyes that see no faces through this dark, With ears that hear all voices far away, Why should I cling to misery, and grope My long, long way from pain to pain, alone?

RUAHMAH: [At his feet.]

Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here; And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!

NAAMAN: What voice is that? The silence of my tomb Is broken by a ray of music,--whose?

RUAHMAH: [Rising.]

The one who loves thee best in all the world.

NAAMAN: Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true?

Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart As cold and proud? How n.o.bly thou forgivest!

Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,-- The coward's flight into the dark. Go back Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable While there is one alive on earth who loves us.

RUAHMAH: My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,-- You do mistake me now,--this dream--

NAAMAN: Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe, Though G.o.ds are cruel, a woman can be kind.

Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,-- Only to know that thou art faithful, That thou art near me, though I touch thee not,-- O this will hold me up, though it be given From pity more than love.

RUAHMAH: [Trembling, and speaking slowly.]

Not so, my lord!

My pity is a stream; my pride of thee Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream; My love for thee is like the sovereign moon That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul Flow unto thee and follow after thee; And where thou goest I will go; and where Thou diest I will die,--in the same hour.

[She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.]

NAAMAN: O touch me not! Thou shalt not share my doom.

RUAHMAH: Entreat me not to go. I will obey In all but this; but rob me not of this,-- The only boon that makes life worth the living,-- To walk beside thee day by day, and keep Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food When thou art hungry, music for thy rest, And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour; And so to lead thee ever on, and on, Through darkness, till we find the door of hope.

NAAMAN: What word is that? The leper has no hope.

RUAHMAH: Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet No broader than my little finger-nail.

Thy force is not abated, and thy step Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put A drop of courage from my breast in thine!

There is a hope for thee. The captive maid Of Israel who dwelt within thy house Knew of a G.o.d very compa.s.sionate, Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals The sick, hath pity on the fatherless, And saves the poor and him who has no helper.

His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria; And I have heard that he hath brought the dead To life again. We'll go to him. The King, If I beseech him, will appoint a guard Of thine own soldiers and Saballidin, Thy friend, to convoy us upon our journey.

He'll give us royal letters to the King Of Israel to make our welcome sure; And we will take the open road, beneath The open sky, to-morrow, and go on Together till we find the door of hope.

Come, come with me!

[She grasps his hand.]

NAAMAN: [Drawing back.]

Thou must not touch me!

RUAHMAH: [Unclasping her girdle and putting the end in his hand.]

Take my girdle, then!

NAAMAN: [Kissing the clasp of the girdle.]

I do begin to think there is a G.o.d, Since love on earth can work such miracles:

_CURTAIN._