the cost of war, and pays the army.He knows that Saladin, from time to time,
Goes to this fortress, through by-ways and passe
With few attendants.
Well—
How easy ’twere
To seize his person in these expeditions,
And make an end of all! You shudder, sir—
Two Maronites, who fear the Lord, have offer
To share the danger of the enterprise,
Under a proper leader.
And the patriarch
Had cast his eye on me for this brave office?
He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais
Best second such a deed.
On me? on me?
Have you not heard then, just now heard, the favour
Which I received from Saladin?
Oh, yes!
And yet?
The patriarch thinks—that’s mighty well—
God, and the order’s interest—
Alter nothing,
Command no villainies.
No, that indeed not;
But what is villainy in human eyes
May in the sight of God, the patriarch thinks,
Not be—
I owe my life to Saladin,
And might take his?
That—fie! But Saladin,
The patriarch thinks, is yet the common foe
Of Christendom, and cannot earn a right
To be your friend.
My friend—because I will not
Behave like an ungrateful scoundrel to him.
Yet gratitude, the patriarch thinks, is not
A debt before the eye of God or man,
Unless for our own sakes the benefit
Had been conferred; and, it has been reported,
The patriarch understands that Saladin
Preserved your life merely because your voice,
Your air, or features, raised a recollection
Of his lost brother.
He knows this? and yet—
If it were sure, I should—ah, Saladin!
How! and shall nature then have formed in me
A single feature in thy brother’s likeness,
With nothing in my soul to answer to it?
Or what does correspond shall I suppress
To please a patriarch? So thou dost not cheat us,
Nature—and so not contradict Thyself,
Kind God of all.—Go, brother, go away:
Do not stir up my anger.
I withdraw
More gladly than I came. We cloister-folk
Are forced to vow obedience to superiors.
The monk, methinks, left him in no good mood:
But I must risk my message.
Better still
The proverb says that monks and women are
The devil’s clutches; and I’m tossed to-day
From one to th’ other.
Whom do I behold?—
Thank God! I see you, noble knight, once more.
Where have you lurked this long, long space? You’ve not
Been ill?
No.
Well, then?
Yes.
We’ve all been anxious
Lest something ailed you.
So?
Have you been journeying?
Hit off!
How long returned?
Since yesterday.
Our Recha’s father too is just returned,
And now may Recha hope at last—
For what?
For what she often has requested of you.
Her father pressingly invites your visit.
He now arrives from Babylon, with twenty
High-laden camels, brings the curious drugs,
And precious stones, and stuffs, he has collected
From Syria, Persia, India, even China.
I am no chap.
His nation honours him,
As if he were a prince, and yet to hear him
Called the wise Nathan by them, not the rich,
Has often made me wonder.
To his nation
Are rich and wise perhaps of equal import.
But above all he should be called the good.
You can’t imagine how much goodness dwells
Within him. Since he has been told the service
You rendered to his Recha, there is nothing
That he would grudge you.
Aye?
Do—see him, try him.
A
