Poetry

The Keeper of the Ford

THEIR helplessness was outstretched hands of prayer, Beseeching pity !—or gesture of despair !

Toward twilight's menace, fearful of their fate Asses and slaves and womenfolk went pattering Milch-camels with their colts at foot lurched swaying ; Ile-goats and she-goats, ewes with burdened gait, Night-peering, pausing kine—they moved on hate,

To charm to ruth—or slake it with their slaying— Or fugitive fanwise spread a shield in scattering—

A flung-up torch of doom, the death delaying From one who craven waited On Jabbok's beach and with his heart debated !

What monstrous anger moves upon the air ? What river-god comes rushing from his lair ? Jabbok ? that watched the caravans escape ? The oleander-ambushed taking shape ? Mist of a menace rising from his waves ? Body of a blood-lust welling from his caves ? He claims a life, the Keeper of the Ford ! Darkness has given him power ; and he is lord Scant presage of this dusk did dawn declare, Supplanter ! greeting thee with angel-hosts! Setting thy steps upon a course so fair, To trip thee downward to the realm of ghosts ! Familiar converse with the sons of light Closing in battle with the king of night !

Thy trembling eyes ran flutteringly afar ; Started ; and shook ! fools ! fools ! as fugitives are !

Straining, they saw, where sunset smouldered red On Gilead's crest, those sudden figures dread Which sought thy life ! 'Twas vision ; yet thy gaze Still followed, flaming out from thy amaze, While dark and distance and the world's steep rim Drank lusty serf and warrior moving dim As shadows into shadow ! And thy Doom Couched in the chuckling brook and in the gloom Of whispering agnuscastus, drawing tense With wrath and laughter at thy lack of sense Thou, wast thou mad, to leave thy life alone In such wild gathering angers ? Hadst thou known .

Thou hadst not in the half-light lingered so On Jabbok's shores, that housed thy raging foe !

Now, paramount where'er these waters run, Unquelled, and free of the all-guarding Sun, He holds thee in his frontiers, in a field Where flight shall not avail thee ; nor to yield !

Supplanter, thou art friendless ! see, the waste Has trapped thee whom thy spearmen have outpaced !

What thought, Supplanter, floods thy dizzying brain ? What planet rises on this sea of pain ?

That Earth who gave—Yes ! yes ! thy heart avers That Earth, who gave this grim autoehthon thews, Earth is thy mother too ! nor will refuse Her aid to desperate valour ! thou art hers ! And, though thou sway and faint, though every vein Distend to madness, madness gives thee hope To grip these ravening hands nor grant them scope ! And, body to his body, cling him fast Till dawn compel him to his caves at last !

Thy blood is dead within thee ; in thy mind Life flickers ; thou, a misery surging blind, No other function hast but agony !

The lover's clasp without his ecstasy !

A pressure and a pang ! yet rouse ; and hark ! Thine Adversary finds voice ; the ebbing dark Drains on its tides the valour thou hast held— His strength flows from him, by a man excelled ! While courier-tremors now the dimness shake, He pleads for freedom ere the morning break ! When thou hast foiled him ! He that in his hour, When night had flung thee captive to his power Sought thy destruction, shall he leave thee so ? No! no ! But bless thee, going—or shall not go !

Thou hast prevailed ! thou bast, ere day undimmed The cloud of foe who fought thee rMghty-limbed (That face of demon-wrath—or smiling peace ?), Thy blessing won, and given a God release !

Thou as a Prince hast power ; a crest of fame Is on thee from this night, a victor-name !

Jabbok forgets the dusk of turbulent throes And through his oleanders murmuring goes ; The mist has fled from his enchanted stream, And all the ghostly battle of a dream.

Bright over Penuel dawns thy saviour Sun ! Thou haltest on the field that thou hast won.

EDWARD THONIPSON.