The Shepherdess

By one whose heart kept watch was heard the fameOf a bright world that, like a ship of war,Was launched in heaven beside the last that cameO’er the sky’s outer bar:Her land Chaldea, she that blessed nameGave to the coming star.

Child of a lord, they called on her to reignO’er that old story-land whose shepherds deemThe stars a flock that studs a holy plain;And she had learned in dreamThat her loved land, through her, that star should gainAnd with its blessings teem.

But heartless deeds were of her father toldWho the fair daughters, in the mountains born,Had captured and to days of slavery soldWhere bends the Golden Horn:A shepherd chief, who robbed his neighbour’s fold,And took the lamb unshorn.

She bears her crook o’er living plains, her wayThrough tents in which the thoughtful shepherds dwellWho watch the heavens where the bright grazers strayAnd think they hear the bellWhose holy tinklings, as they softly play,The fates of men foretell.

So doth she haste to meet her shepherd-seers,And see the promised star that shall eclipseThe one which filled her father’s land with tears,And learn from their own lipsThe happy portents that to man it bearsFrom the new heaven it skips.

While Tigris and Euphrates still o’erleapTheir shallow bounds her camel slowly goes,When nigh her tent, on vengeful errand, creepHer father’s olden foes,And seize her, helpless, in her noon-day sleepWhile all her tribes repose.

In a barred chamber, and in chains, a slave,She weeps with eyes upon the Golden Horn,And thinks of far-off waters as they laveBlest homes in Capricorn,Where happy beings find the Heaven that gaveTo her the star new-born.

Strangers have come and through her prison-gateThey count her price and would her love allure;But her eyes restless watch and wide dilate;Their look can none endure,So wild in sorrow and so mild in hate,In majesty so pure.

One comes towards whom the look of prayer she bendsThat seems to utter ‘Thou, my star, arise!’And while that heaven-adoring thought ascendsNew sorrows fill her eyes,That tell how Love is dead and beauty endsWhen human pity dies!

All that he has, the mystic life he bears,What is their worth, her soul in slavery?He pays the ransom, breaks the chain she wears,As though some god were he:Voiceless, she offers up to him the tearsHer anguish has set free.

Handmaids and armed protectors are at hand,All that to queenly power and pomp pertains,And, passing waters from the stranger-land,Her star-roofed home she gains,Where her sleek camels, crimson-girded, standTo bear her o’er the plains.

In her slow path the faithful seers arriveAnd with prophetic tidings bid her cheer:That night, they tell, the older worlds shall strive,As the new star comes near,And into depths of unknown darkness diveAnd find no other sphere.

But little heed gives she to their appeals:The coming star, alas! not yet is found;Deep-sighing in her silence, she revealsA heart in slavery bound:Her bonds are there, and there it is she feelsThe chain about her wound.

’Mid joyous shouts she sees her open gates,But enters not, up-gazing in the thoughtThat never sleeps or in her breast abates,Where is the star she sought!But now a greater seer her advent waits;He hath the tidings brought.

‘The hour is come, the star is now in sight;Portents of blessed change the heavens bestrew:The shepherds upward gaze, the air is bright,The sky is gold and blue,The ancient stars are on their downward flightAnd others come anew.

‘And in the shower of burning worlds, self-hurledFrom heaven to heaven, a lord is on his wayAround whose hosts the golden dust is whirled,While, in divine array,Green floats his shepherd-banner, wide-unfurled,With flocks thereon at play.’

The hour has come in clouds that hurry o’erHer palace towers, and scatter while the raysOf new-made light upon the valleys pour;While flocks awake and graze,And shepherds sing and the new star adore:But she, beholding, prays.

The seer of seers stands forth, he takes her hands;He cries, ‘Thy star is come! Be it to theeA rich reward and to these teeming lands;The lord, who made thee free,Now in his earthly place before thee stands,Thy guiding-star to be.’

She looks at heaven; afar the cloud-vane drifts;Her face is pale, he comes, the lord is found:She kneels, once more his slave; the stranger liftsThe virgin from the ground,And offers up for sacred wedding giftsThe chains her heart had bound.