'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot

Turned from the Brig of Dread,

And the dreadful foam of the wild water
Had splashed the body red.

For days and nights he wandered on

Upon an open plain,

And the days went by like blinding mist,
And the nights like rushing rain.

For days and nights he wandered on,
All through the Wood of Woe;

And the nights went by like moaning wind,
And the days like drifting snow.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot

Came with a weary faceAlone, alone, and all alone, Alone in a lonely place!

He wandered east, he wandered west,
And heard no human sound;

For months and years, in grief and tears,
He wandered round and round.

For months and years, in grief and tears,
He walked the silent night;
Then the soul of Judas Iscariot
Perceived a far-off light.

A far-off light across the waste,

As dim as dim might be,

That came and went like a lighthouse gleam

On a black night at sea.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot

Crawled to the distant gleam;

And the rain came down, and the rain was blown

Against him with a scream.

For days and nights he wandered on,
Pushed on by hands behind;

And the days went by like black, black rain,
And the nights like rushing wind.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot,
Strange, and sad, and tall,
Stood all alone at dead of night
Before a lighted hall.

And the wold was white with snow,
And his foot-marks black and damp,
And the ghost of the silver Moon arose,
Holding her yellow lamp.

And the icicles were on the eaves,
And the walls were deep with white,
And the shadows of the guests within
Passed on the window light.

The shadows of the wedding guests
Did strangers come and go,

And the body of Judas Iscariot
Lay stretched along the snow.

The body of Judas Iscariot

Lay stretched along the snow; 'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Ran swiftly to and fro.

To and fro, and up and down,

He ran so swiftly there,

As round and round the frozen Pole
Glideth the lean white bear.

'Twas the Bridegroom sat at the table-head,

And the lights burned bright and clear— "Oh, who is that?" the Bridegroom said, "Whose weary feet I hear?"

'Twas one looked from the lighted hall,

And answered soft and slow,

"It is a wolf runs up and down With a black track in the snow."

The Bridegroom in his robe of white
Sat at the table-head-

"Oh, who is that who moans without?"
The blessed Bridegroom said.

'Twas one looked from the lighted hall,
And answered fierce and low,
"Tis the soul of Judas Iscariot

Gliding to and fro.”

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot

Did hush itself and stand,

And saw the Bridegroom at the door

With a light in his hand.

The Bridegroom stood in the open door,

And he was clad in white,

And far within the Lord's Supper

Was spread so long and bright.

The Bridegroom shaded his eyes and looked,
And his face was bright to see-
"What dost thou here at the Lord's Supper
With thy body's sins?" said he.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot

Stood black, and sad, and bare

"I have wandered many nights and days; There is no light elsewhere."

'Twas the wedding guests cried out within,

And their eyes were fierce and bright"Scourge the soul of Judas Iscariot Away into the night!"

The Bridegroom stood in the open door,
And he waved hands still and slow,
And the third time that he waved his hands
The air was thick with snow.

And of every flake of falling snow,

Before it touched the ground,

There came a dove, and a thousand doves

Made sweet sound.

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot

Floated away full fleet,

And the wings of the doves that bare it off
Were like its winding-sheet.

'Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door,
And beckoned, smiling sweet;

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot
Stole in, and fell at his feet.

"The Holy Supper is spread within,
And the many candles shine,
And I have waited long for thee
Before I poured the wine!”

The supper wine is poured at last,
The lights burn bright and fair,
Iscariot washes the Bridegroom's feet,

And dries them with his hair.

Robert Buchanan [1841-1901]

HE FELL AMONG THIEVES

"YE have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end,

Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:

What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?' "Blood for our blood," they said.

He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive."
"You shall die at dawn," said they.

He flung his empty revolver down the slope,

He climbed alone to the Eastward edge of the trees;
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope
He brooded, clasping his knees.

He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills
The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows;
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,
Or the far Afghan snows.

He saw the April noon on his books aglow,
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide;

He heard his father's voice from the terrace below
Calling him down to ride.

He saw the gray little church across the park,

The mounds that hid the loved and honored dead; The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,

The brasses black and red.

He saw the School Close, sunny and green,

The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between,

His own name over all.

He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof,
The long tables, and the faces merry and keen;
The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof,
The Dons on the daïs serene.

He watched the liner's stem plowing the foam,

He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw; He heard the passengers' voices talking of home,

He saw the flag she flew.