Act IV: Scene III. — Jason, Alone

JASON.Through the Gate Beautiful I see them comeWith branches and green boughs and leaves of palm,And pass into the inner courts. Alas!I should be with them, should be one of them,But in an evil hour, an hour of weakness,That cometh unto all, I fell awayFrom the old faith, and did not clutch the new,Only an outward semblance of belief;For the new faith I cannot make mine own,Not being born to it. It hath no rootWithin me. I am neither Jew nor Greek,But stand between them both, a renegadeTo each in turn; having no longer faithIn gods or men. Then what mysterious charm,What fascination is it chains my feet,And keeps me gazing like a curious childInto the holy places, where the priestsHave raised their altar?--Striking stones together,They take fire out of them, and light the lampsIn the great candlestick. They spread the veils,And set the loaves of showbread on the table.The incense burns; the well-remembered odorComes wafted unto me, and takes me backTo other days. I see myself among themAs I was then; and the old superstitionCreeps over me again!--A childish fancy!--And hark! they sing with citherns and with cymbals,And all the people fall upon their faces,Praying and worshipping!--I will awayInto the East, to meet AntiochusUpon his homeward journey, crowned with triumph.Alas! to-day I would give everythingTo see a friend's face, or to hear a voiceThat had the slightest tone of comfort in it!