My head with oil didst thou Anoint not; but this woman hath anointed My feet with ointment.

Hence I say to thee, Her sins, which have been many, are forgiven, For she loved much.
THE GUESTS.
Oh, who, then, is this man That pardoneth also sins without atonement?
CHRISTUS.
Woman, thy faith hath saved thee! Go in peace! THE SECOND PASSOVER.
I BEFORE THE GATES OF MACHAERUS MANAHEM.
Welcome, O wilderness, and welcome, night And solitude, and ye swift-flying stars That drift with golden sands the barren heavens, Welcome once more! The Angels of the Wind Hasten across the desert to receive me; And sweeter than men's voices are to me The voices of these solitudes; the sound Of unseen rivulets, and the far-off cry Of bitterns in the reeds of water-pools.
And lo! above me, like the Prophet's arrow Shot from the eastern window, high in air The clamorous cranes go singing through the night.
O ye mysterious pilgrims of the air, Would I had wings that I might follow you! I look forth from these mountains, and behold The omnipotent and omnipresent night, Mysterious as the future and the fate That hangs o'er all men's lives! I see beneath me The desert stretching to the Dead Sea shore, And westward, faint and far away, the glimmer Of torches on Mount Olivet, announcing The rising of the Moon of Passover.
Like a great cross it seems, on which suspended, With head bowed down in agony, I see A human figure! Hide, O merciful heaven, The awful apparition from my sight! And thou, Machaerus, lifting high and black Thy dreadful walls against the rising moon, Haunted by demons and by apparitions, Lilith, and Jezerhara, and Bedargon, How grim thou showest in the uncertain light, A palace and a prison, where King Herod Feasts with Herodias, while the Baptist John Fasts, and consumes his unavailing life! And in thy court-yard grows the untithed rue, Huge as the olives of Gethsemane, And ancient as the terebinth of Hebron, Coeval with the world.

Would that its leaves Medicinal could purge thee of the demons That now possess thee, and the cunning fox That burrows in thy walls, contriving mischief! Music is heard from within.
Angels of God! Sandalphon, thou that weavest The prayers of men into immortal garlands, And thou, Metatron, who dost gather up Their songs, and bear them to the gates of heaven, Now gather up together in your hands The prayers that fill this prison, and the songs That echo from the ceiling of this palace, And lay them side by side before God's feet! He enters the castle.
II HEROD'S BANQUET-HALL MANAHEM.
Thou hast sent for me, O King, and I am here.
HEROD.
Who art thou?
MANAHEM.
Manahem, the Essenian.
HEROD.
I recognize thy features, but what mean These torn and faded garments?
On thy road Have demons crowded thee, and rubbed against thee, And given thee weary knees?
A cup of wine! MANAHEM.
The Essenians drink no wine.
HEROD.
What wilt thou, then?
MANAHEM.
Nothing.
HEROD.
Not even a cup of water?
MANAHEM.
Nothing.
Why hast thou sent for me?
HEROD.
Dost thou remember One day when I, a schoolboy in the streets Of the great city, met thee on my way To school, and thou didst say to me: Hereafter Thou shalt be king?
MANAHEM.
Yea, I remember it.
HEROD.
Thinking thou didst not know me, I replied: I am of humble birth; whereat thou, smiling, Didst smite me with thy hand, and saidst again: Thou shalt be king; and let the friendly blows That Manahem hath given thee on this day Remind thee of the fickleness of fortune.
MANAHEM.
What more?
HEROD.
No more.
MANAHEM.
Yea, for I said to thee: It shall be well with thee if thou love justice And clemency towards thy fellow-men.
Hast thou done this, O King?
HEROD.
Go, ask my people.
MANAHEM.
And then, foreseeing all thy life, I added: But these thou wilt forget; and at the end Of life the Lord will punish thee.
HEROD.
The end! When will that come?
For this I sent to thee.
How long shall I still reign?
Thou dost not answer! Speak! shall I reign ten years?
MANAHEM.
Thou shalt reign twenty, Nay, thirty years.

I cannot name the end.
HEROD.
Thirty?
I thank thee, good Essenian! This is my birthday, and a happier one Was never mine.

We hold a banquet here.
See, yonder are Herodias and her daughter.
MANAHEM, aside.
'T is said that devils sometimes take the shape Of ministering angels, clothed with air.
That they may be inhabitants of earth, And lead man to destruction.