A lighted lantern on a table.
SIMON.
Swift are the blessed Immortals to the mortal That perseveres! So doth it stand recorded In the divine Chaldaean Oracles Of Zoroaster, once Ezekiel's slave, Who in his native East betook himself To lonely meditation, and the writing On the dried skins of oxen the Twelve Books Of the Avesta and the Oracles! Therefore I persevere; and I have brought thee From the great city of Tyre, where men deride The things they comprehend not, to this plain Of Esdraelon, in the Hebrew tongue Called Armageddon, and this town of Endor, Where men believe; where all the air is full Of marvellous traditions, and the Enchantress That summoned up the ghost of Samuel Is still remembered.

Thou hast seen the land; Is it not fair to look on?
HELEN.
It is fair, Yet not so fair as Tyre.
SIMON.
Is not Mount Tabor As beautiful as Carmel by the Sea?
HELEN.
It is too silent and too solitary; I miss the tumult of the street; the sounds Of traffic, and the going to and fro Of people in gay attire, with cloaks of purple, And gold and silver jewelry! SIMON.
Inventions Of Abriman, the spirit of the dark, The Evil Spirit! HELEN.
I regret the gossip Of friends and neighbors at the open door On summer nights.
SIMON.
An idle waste of time.
HELEN.
The singing and the dancing, the delight Of music and of motion.

Woe is me, To give up all these pleasures, and to lead The life we lead! SIMON.
Thou canst not raise thyself Up to the level of my higher thought, And though possessing thee, I still remain Apart from thee, and with thee, am alone In my high dreams.
HELEN.
Happier was I in Tyre.
Oh, I remember how the gallant ships Came sailing in, with ivory, gold, and silver, And apes and peacocks; and the singing sailors, And the gay captains with their silken dresses, Smelling of aloes, myrrh, and cinnamon! SIMON.
But the dishonor, Helen! Let the ships Of Tarshish howl for that! HELEN.
And what dishonor?
Remember Rahab, and how she became The ancestress of the great Psalmist David; And wherefore should not I, Helen of Tyre, Attain like honor?
SIMON.
Thou art Helen of Tyre, And hast been Helen of Troy, and hast been Rahab, The Queen of Sheha, and Semiramis, And Sara of seven husbands, and Jezebel, And other women of the like allurements; And now thou art Minerva, the first Aeon, The Mother of Angels! HELEN.
And the concubine Of Simon the Magician! Is it honor For one who has been all these noble dames, To tramp about the dirty villages And cities of Samaria with a juggler?
A charmer of serpents?
SIMON.
He who knows himself Knows all things in himself.

I have charmed thee, Thou beautiful asp: yet am I no magician, I am the Power of God, and the Beauty of God! I am the Paraclete, the Comforter! HELEN.
Illusions! Thou deceiver, self-deceived! Thou dost usurp the titles of another; Thou art not what thou sayest.
SIMON.
Am I not?
Then feel my power.
HELEN.
Would I had ne'er left Tyre! He looks at her, and she sinks into a deep sleep.
SIMON.
Go, see it in thy dreams, fair unbeliever! And leave me unto mine, if they be dreams, That take such shapes before me, that I see them; These effable and ineffable impressions Of the mysterious world, that come to me From the elements of Fire and Earth and Water, And the all-nourishing Ether! It is written, Look not on Nature, for her name is fatal! Yet there are Principles, that make apparent The images of unapparent things, And the impression of vague characters And visions most divine appear in ether.
So speak the Oracles; then wherefore fatal?
I take this orange-bough, with its five leaves, Each equidistant on the upright stem; And I project them on a plane below, In the circumference of a circle drawn About a centre where the stem is planted, And each still equidistant from the other, As if a thread of gossamer were drawn Down from each leaf, and fastened with a pin.
Now if from these five points a line be traced To each alternate point, we shall obtain The Pentagram, or Solomon's Pentangle, A charm against all witchcraft, and a sign, Which on the banner of Antiochus Drove back the fierce barbarians of the North, Demons esteemed, and gave the Syrian King The sacred name of Soter, or of Savior.
Thus Nature works mysteriously with man; And from the Eternal One, as from a centre, All things proceed, in fire, air, earth, and water, And all are subject to one law, which, broken Even in a single point, is broken in all; Demons rush in, and chaos comes again.
By this will I compel the stubborn spirits, That guard the treasures, hid in caverns deep On Gerizim, by Uzzi the High-Priest, The ark and holy vessels, to reveal Their secret unto me, and to restore These precious things to the Samaritans.
A mist is rising from the plain below me, And as I look, the vapors shape themselves Into strange figures, as if unawares My lips had breathed the Tetragrammaton, And from their graves, o'er all the battlefields Of Armageddon, the long-buried captains Had started, with their thousands, and ten thousands, And rushed together to renew their wars, Powerless, and weaponless, and without a sound! Wake, Helen, from thy sleep! The air grows cold; Let us go down.
HELEN, awaking.
Oh, would I were at home! SIMON.
Thou sayest that I usurp another's titles.
In youth I saw the Wise Men of the East, Magalath and Pangalath and Saracen, Who followed the bright star, but home returned For fear of Herod by another way.
O shining worlds above me! in what deep Recesses of your realms of mystery Lies hidden now that star?
and where are they That brought the gifts of frankincense and myrrh?
HELEN.
The Nazarene still liveth.
SIMON.
We have heard His name in many towns, but have not seen Him.
He flits before us; tarries not; is gone When we approach, like something unsubstantial, Made of the air, and fading into air.
He is at Nazareth, He is at Nain, Or at the Lovely Village on the Lake, Or sailing on its waters.
HELEN.
So say those Who do not wish to find Him.
SIMON.
Can this be The King of Israel, whom the Wise Men worshipped?
Or does He fear to meet me?
It would seem so.
We should soon learn which of us twain usurps The titles of the other, as thou sayest.
They go down.
THE THIRD PASSOVER I THE ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM THE SYRO-PHOENICIAN WOMAN and her DAUGHTER on the house-top at Jerusalem.
THE DAUGHTER, singing.
Blind Bartimeus at the gates Of Jericho in darkness waits; He hears the crowd;--he hears a breath Say, It is Christ of Nazareth! And calls, in tones of agony, [Greek text]! The thronging multitudes increase: Blind Bartimeus, hold thy peace! But still, above the noisy crowd, The beggar's cry is shrill and loud; Until they say, he calleth thee! [Greek text]! Then saith the Christ, as silent stands The crowd, What wilt thou at my hands?
And he replies, Oh, give me light! Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight! And Jesus answers, [Greek text]! Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see, In darkness and in misery, Recall those mighty voices three, [Greek text]! [Greek text]! [Greek text]! THE MOTHER.
Thy faith hath saved thee! Ah, how true that is! For I had faith; and when the Master came Into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, fleeing From those who sought to slay him, I went forth And cried unto Him, saying: Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David! for my daughter Is grievously tormented with a devil.
But he passed on, and answered not a word.
And his disciples said, beseeching Him: Send her away! She crieth after us! And then the Master answered them and said: I am not sent but unto the lost sheep Of the House of Israel! Then I worshipped Him, Saying: Lord help me! And He answered me, It is not meet to take the children's bread And cast it unto dogs! Truth, Lord, I said; And yet the dogs may eat the crumbs which fall From off their master's table; and he turned, And answered me; and said to me: O woman, Great is thy faith; then be it unto thee Even as thou wilt.

And from that very hour Thou wast made whole, my darling! my delight! THE DAUGHTER.
There came upon my dark and troubled mind A calm, as when the tumult of the City Suddenly ceases, and I lie and hear The silver trumpets of the Temple blowing Their welcome to the Sabbath.