And cool his forehead just above the eyes,

The while a brother, kneeling either side,
Should chafe each hand and try to make it warm,
He is not so far gone but he might speak."

This did not happen in the outer cave,

Nor in the secret chamber of the rock,
Where, sixty days since the decree was out,
We had him, bedded on a camel-skin,
And waited for his dying all the while ;
But in the midmost grotto: since noon's light
Reached there a little, and we would not lose
The last of what might happen on his face.

I at the head, and Xanthus at the feet,
With Valens and the Boy, had lifted him,
And brought him from the chamber in the depths,
And laid him in the light where we might see:
For certain smiles began about his mouth,

And his lids moved, presageful of the end.

Beyond, and half way up the mouth o' the cave,
The Bactrian convert, having his desire,
Kept watch, and made pretence to graze a goat
That gave us milk, on rags of various herb,

Plantain and quitch, the rocks' shade keeps alive:

So that if any thief or soldier passed,

(Because the persecution was aware)

Yielding the goat up promptly with his life,
Such man might pass on, joyful at a prize,

Nor care to pry into the cool o' the cave.
Outside was all noon and the burning blue.

"Here is wine," answered Xanthus, dropped a drop;

I stooped and placed the lap of cloth aright,

Then chafed his right hand, and the Boy his left:
But Valens had bethought him, and produced.

And broke a ball of nard, and made perfume.
Only, he did not so much wake, as

And smile a little, as a sleeper does

If any dear one call him, touch his face

turn

And smiles and loves, but will not be disturbed.

Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept :
It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome,
Was burned, and could not write the chronicle.

Then the Boy sprang up from his knees, and ran,
Stung by the splendor of a sudden thought,
And fetched the seventh plate of graven lead

Out of the secret chamber, found a place,
Pressing with finger on the deeper dints,
And spoke, as 't were his mouth proclaiming first,
"I am the Resurrection and the Life."

Whereat he opened his eyes wide at once,
And sat up of himself, and looked at us;
And thenceforth nobody pronounced a word:
Only, outside, the Bactrian cried his cry
Like the lone desert-bird that wears the ruff,
As signal we were safe, from time to time.

First he said, "If a friend declared to me,
This my son Valens, this my other son,
Were James and Peter, nay, declared as well
This lad was very John, I could believe!
-Could, for a moment, doubtlessly believe:
So is myself withdrawn into my depths,
The soul retreated from the perished brain
Whence it was wont to feel and use the world
Through these dull members, done with long ago.
Yet I myself remain ;. I feel myself:

And there is nothing lost. Let be, awhile!"

[This is the doctrine he was wont to teach,

How divers persons witness in each man,

Three souls which make up one soul: first, to wit,
A soul of each and all the bodily parts,

Seated therein, which works, and is what Does,

And has the use of earth, and ends the man
Downward: but, tending upward for advice,
Grows into, and again is grown into

By the next soul, which, seated in the brain,
Useth the first with its collected use,

And feeleth, thinketh, willeth, is what Knows:

Which, duly tending upward in its turn,
Grows into, and again is grown into

By the last soul, that uses both the first,
Subsisting whether they assist or no,
And, constituting man's self, is what Is-
And leans upon the former, makes it play,
As that played off the first: and, tending up,
Holds, is upheld by, God, and ends the man
Upward in that dread point of intercourse,

Nor needs a place, for it returns to Him.

What Does, what Knows, what Is; three souls, one man.

I give the glossa of Theotypas.]

And then, "A stick, once fire from end to end;

Now, ashes save the tip that holds a spark!

Yet, blow the spark, it runs back, spreads itself
A little where the fire was: thus I urge

The soul that served me, till it task once more
What ashes of my brain have kept their shape,
And these make effort on the last o' the flesh,

Trying to taste again the truth of things

(He smiled) "their very superficial truth;
As that ye are my sons, that it is long

Since James and Peter had release by death,
And I am only he, your brother John,

Who saw and heard, and could remember all.
Remember all! It is not much to say.

What if the truth broke on me from above
As once and ofttimes? Such might hap again:
Doubtlessly He might stand in presence here,

With head wool-white, eyes flame, and feet like brass,
The sword and the seven stars, as I have seen

I who now shudder only and surmise

'How did your brother bear that sight and live?'

"If I live yet, it is for good, more love

Through me to men: be naught but ashes here

That keep awhile my semblance, who was John -
Still, when they scatter, there is left on earth
No one alive who knew (consider this!)