The Tower of Magdala

Companionless, unsatisfied, forlorn,I sit here in this lonely tower, and lookUpon the lake below me, and the hillsThat swoon with heat, and see as in a visionAll my past life unroll itself before me.The princes and the merchants come to me,Merchants of Tyre and Princes of Damascus.And pass, and disappear, and are no more;But leave behind their merchandise and jewels,Their perfumes, and their gold, and their disgust.I loathe them, and the very memory of themIs unto me as thought of food to oneCloyed with the luscious figs of Dalmanutha!What if hereafter, in the long hereafterOf endless joy or pain, or joy in pain,It were my punishment to be with themGrown hideous and decrepit in their sins,And hear them say: Thou that hast brought us here,Be unto us as thou hast been of old!I look upon this raiment that I wear,These silks, and these embroideries, and they seemOnly as cerements wrapped about my limbs!I look upon these rings thick set with pearls,And emerald and amethyst and jasper,And they are burning coals upon my flesh!This serpent on my wrist becomes alive!Away, thou viper! and away, ye garlands,Whose odors bring the swift remembrance backOf the unhallowed revels in these chambers!But yesterday,--and yet it seems to meSomething remote, like a pathetic songSung long ago by minstrels in the street,--But yesterday, as from this tower I gazed,Over the olive and the walnut treesUpon the lake and the white ships, and wonderedWhither and whence they steered, and who was in them,A fisher's boat drew near the landing-placeUnder the oleanders, and the peopleCame up from it, and passed beneath the tower,Close under me. In front of them, as leader,Walked one of royal aspect, clothed in white,Who lifted up his eyes, and looked at me,And all at once the air seemed filled and livingWith a mysterious power, that streamed from him,And overflowed me with an atmosphereOf light and love. As one entranced I stood,And when I woke again, lo! he was gone;So that I said: Perhaps it is a dream.But from that very hour the seven demonsThat had their habitation in this bodyWhich men call beautiful, departed from me!

This morning, when the first gleam of the dawnMade Lebanon a glory in the air,And all below was darkness, I beheldAn angel, or a spirit glorified,With wind-tossed garments walking on the lake.The face I could not see, but I distinguishedThe attitude and gesture, and I knew'T was he that healed me. And the gusty windBrought to mine ears a voice, which seemed to say:Be of good cheer! 'T is I! Be not afraid!And from the darkness, scarcely heard, the answer:If it be thou, bid me come unto theeUpon the water! And the voice said: Come!And then I heard a cry of fear: Lord, save me!As of a drowning man. And then the voice:Why didst thou doubt, O thou of little faith!At this all vanished, and the wind was hushed,And the great sun came up above the hills,And the swift-flying vapors hid themselvesIn caverns among the rocks! Oh, I must find himAnd follow him, and be with him forever!

Thou box of alabaster, in whose wallsThe souls of flowers lie pent, the precious balmAnd spikenard of Arabian farms, the spiritsOf aromatic herbs, ethereal naturesNursed by the sun and dew, not all unworthyTo bathe his consecrated feet, whose stepMakes every threshold holy that he crosses;Let us go forth upon our pilgrimage,Thou and I only! Let us search for himUntil we find him, and pour out our soulsBefore his feet, till all that's left of usShall be the broken caskets that once held us!