CHAPTER II.
THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL.
The scene which he had witnessed had left the mind of Lycidas in anexcited and feverish state. The cooling breeze which whispered amongstthe leaves of the olives, and the solitude of the secluded place wherePollux had left him, were refreshing to the young Greek's spirit. Hethrew himself on the grass beneath one of the trees, leant against itstrunk, and gazed upwards at the stars as, one by one, they appeared,like gems studding the deep azure sky.
"Are these brave spirits now reigning in one of these orbs of beauty?"thought the poet; "or are the stars themselves living souls, spiritsfreed from the chains of matter, shining for ever in the firmamentabove? I must know more of that Hebrew religion, and seek out thosewho can initiate me into its mysteries, if it be lawful for a strangerto learn them."
And then the thoughts of Lycidas turned to his poem, and he tried tothrow into verse some of the ideas suggested to his mind by themartyrdoms which he had witnessed, but he speedily gave up the attemptin despair.
"Poetic ornament would but mar the grand outlines of such a history,"he murmured to himself; "who would carve flowers upon the pyramids, orcrown with daisies an obelisk pointing to the skies!"
Gradually sleep stole over the young Greek, his head drooped upon hisarm, his eyelids closed, and he slumbered long and deeply.
Lycidas was awakened by sounds near him, low and subdued, the cautioustread of many feet, the smothered whisper, and the faint rustle ofgarments. The Athenian opened his eyes, and gazed from his place ofconcealment behind the thick branching stem of the olive on a strangeand striking scene.
The moon, full and round, had just risen, but the foliage of the treesas yet obscured most of her light, as her silver lamp hung near thehorizon, casting long black shadows over the earth. Several forms weremoving about in the faint gleam, apparently engaged in some work whichneeded concealment, for none of them carried a torch. Lycidas, himselfsilent as the grave, watched the movements of those before him with acuriosity which for a time so engrossed his mind as to take away allsense of personal danger, though he soon became aware that theintrusion of a stranger on these mysterious midnight proceedings wouldnot only be unwelcome, but might to himself be perilous.
The group of men assembled in that retired spot were evidently Hebrews,and as the eyes of Lycidas became accustomed to the gloom, and theascending moon had more power to disperse it, he intuitively singledout one from amongst them as the leader and chief of the rest. Notthat his tunic and mantle were of richer materials than those of hiscomrades; plain and dusty with travel were the sandals upon his feet,and he wore the simple white turban which a field-labourer might haveworn. But never had turban been folded around a more majestic brow,and the form wrapped in the mantle had the unconscious dignity whichmarks those born to command. The very tread of his sandalled feetreminded the Athenian of that of the desert lion, and from the darkdeep-set eye glanced the calm soul of a hero.
"Here be the place," said the chief, if such he were, pointing to theearth under the branches of the very tree against the trunk of which,on the further side, the temple of Lycidas was pressed, as he benteagerly forward to watch and to listen.
Not a word was uttered in reply; but the men around, after laying asidetheir upper garments, set to work to dig what appeared to be a widetrench. The leader himself threw off his mantle, took a spade, andlaboured with energy, bringing the whole force of his powerful musclesto bear on his humble toil. All worked in profound silence, nor pausedin their labour except now and then to listen, like men to whom dangerhad taught some caution.
Whilst the men went on with their digging, Lycidas strained his eyes todistinguish the outlines of a group at some paces' distance, whichdoubtless, though separated from them, belonged to the same party asthose so actively employed before him. Two forms appeared to be seatedon the ground in a spot evidently chosen for its seclusion; one of themwas clothed in dark garments, the other was shrouded in a large whitelinen veil. Other figures in white seemed to be stretched upon theground in repose. Lycidas watched this silent group for hours, and allremained motionless as marble, save that ever and anon the dark femalefigure slightly swayed backwards and forwards with a rocking motion,and that several times the veiled head was turned with a quickmovement, as of alarm, when the breeze rustled in the olives a littlemore loudly than usual, or bore sounds from the city to the woman'ssensitive ear.
Meanwhile the work of digging proceeded steadily, and the mound ofearth thrown out grew large, for the arms of those who laboured werestrong and willing, and no man paused either to rest or to speak saveonce. It was almost a relief to Lycidas to hear at last the sound of ahuman voice from one of those phantom-like toilers by night. He whospoke was the fiercest-looking of the band, with something of thewildness of Ishmael's race on features whose high strongly-markedoutlines showed the Hebrew cast of countenance in its most exaggeratedtype.
"There's more thunder in the air," he observed, resting for a minute onhis spade, and addressing himself to him whom Lycidas had mentallynamed "the Hebrew prince," on account of his commanding height andnoble demeanour, and the deference with which his order had beenreceived.
No answer was returned to the remark, and the wild-looking Jew spokeagain,--
"Have you heard that Apelles starts to-morrow for Modin, charged with amission from the tyrant to compel its inhabitants to do sacrifice toone of his accursed idol-gods?"
"Is it so? then ere daybreak I set out for Modin," was the reply.
"It may be that the venerable Mattathias would rather have you absent,"observed the first speaker.
"Abishai, when the storm bursts, a son's place is by the side of hisfather," said the princely Hebrew; and as he spoke he threw up aspadeful of earth from the pit which Lycidas doubted not was meant fora grave.
Again the work proceeded in silence. The moon had risen above thetrees before that silence was once more broken, this time by the leaderof the band,--
"It is deep enough now, and broad enough; go ye and bring the honoureddead."
The command was at once obeyed. All the men present, excepting thechief himself, who remained standing in the grave, went towards thegroup which has been previously mentioned. Interest chained Lycidas tothe spot, though it occurred to his mind that prudence required him toseize this favourable opportunity of quietly making his escape.
The Greek remained, watching in the shadow, as on the rudest of biers,formed by two javelins fastened by cross-bars together, the swathedforms of the dead, one after another, were borne to the edge of thepit. They were followed by the two female mourners that had kept guardover the remains while the grave was being prepared. The first ofthese was a tall, stately woman, with hair which glistened in themoonbeams like silver, braided back from a face of which age had notdestroyed the majestic beauty. Sternly sad stood the Hebrew matron bythe grave of the martyred dead; no tear in her eyes, which were brightwith something of prophetic fire. So might a Deborah have stood, hadSisera won the victory, and she had had to raise the death-wall overIsrael's slain, instead of the song of triumph to hail the conquerors'return.
The other female form, which was smaller, and exquisitely graceful inits movements, remained slightly retired, and still closely veiled.Lycidas remarked that the eyes of the leader watched that veiled form,as it approached, with a softened and somewhat anxious expression.This was, however, but for some moments, and the Hebrew then gave hisundivided attention to the pious work on which he was engaged.
Still standing in the grave, the chief received the bodies, one by one,from the men who had borne them to the place of interment. He tookeach corpse in his powerful arms, and unaided laid it down in its lastresting-place, as gently as if he were laying down on a soft couch asleeper whom he feared to awaken. Lycidas caught a glimpse of the paleplacid face of one of the shrouded forms, but needed not that glimpseto feel certain that those whose remains were thus secretly interred bykinsmen or friends at the peril of the
ir lives, were the same as thosewhose martyrdom he had so indignantly witnessed. The Athenian knewenough of the Syrian tyrant to estimate how daring and how difficultmust have been the feat of rescuing so many of the bodies of hisvictims from the dishonour of being left to the dog or the vulture.The devotion of the living, as well as the martyrdom of the dead, gavean interest to that midnight burial which no earthly pomp could havelent. The spirit of the young Athenian glowed with generous sympathy;and of high descent and proud antecedents as he was, Lycidas would havedeemed it an honour to have helped to dig that wide grave for the eightslaughtered Jews.
The burial was conducted in solemn silence, save as regarded the Hebrewmatron, and her deep thrilling accents were meeter requiem for themartyrs than the loudest lamentations of hired mourners would havebeen. As the chief received each lifeless form into his arms, thematron uttered a short sentence over it, in which words of the ancientHebrew spoken by her fathers blended with the Chaldee, then thelanguage commonly used by the Jews. Her thoughts, as she gave themutterance, clothed themselves in unpremeditated poetry; the Atheniancould neither understand all her words, nor her allusions to the past,but the majesty of gesture the music of sound, made him listen as hemight have done to the inspired priestess of some oracle's shrine.
"We may not wail aloud for thee, my son, nor rend our garments, nor puton sackcloth, nor pour dust upon our heads. He who hath bereaved theeof life, would bereave thee even of our tears; but thou art resting onAbraham's bosom, where the tyrant can reach thee no more.
"Thou art taken away from the evil. Thou seest no longer Jerusalemtrodden by the heathen, nor the abomination of desolation set up in thesanctuary of the Lord.
"Even as Isaac was laid on the altar, so didst thou yield thy body todeath, and thy sacrifice is accepted.
"As the dead wood of Aaron's rod, cut off from the tree on which it hadgrown, yet blossomed and bare fruit; cut off as thou art in thy prime,thy memory shall blossom for ever.
"The three holy children trod unharmed the fiery furnace seven timeheated. He who was with them was surely with thee; and the Angel ofDeath hath bidden thee come forth, naught harmed by the fire, save thebonds of flesh which thy free spirit hath left behind.
"To touch a dead body is counted pollution; to touch thine is ratherconsecration; for it is a holy thing which thou hast freely offered toGod."
With peculiar tenderness the matron breathed her requiem over theseventh body as it was laid by the rest.
"Youngest and best-beloved of thy mother; thou flower of the spring,thou shalt slumber in peace on her bosom. Ye were lovely and pleasantin your lives, in your deaths ye are not divided."
It was with calm chastened sorrow that the last farewell had beenspoken as the bodies of the martyred brethren had been placed in theirquiet grave; but there was a bitterness of grief in the wail of theHebrew woman over their mother, which made every word seem to Lycidaslike a drop of blood wrung from the heart of the speaker.
"Blessed, oh, thrice blessed art thou, Solomona, my sister, richest ofmothers in Israel! Thou hast borne seven, and amongst them not one hasbeen false to his God. Thy diadem lacks no gem--thy circle of love isunbroken. Blessed she who, dying by her martyred sons, could say toher Lord: _Lo, I and the children whom Thou hast given me;_" and as thematron ended her lament, she tore her silver hair, rent her garments,and bowed her head with a gesture of uncontrollable grief.
All the bodies having been now reverentially placed in the grave, thechief rose from it, and joined his companions. Abishai then thusaddressed him:--
"Hadassah hath made her lament. Son of Phineas, descendant of Aaronthe high-priest of God, have you no word to speak over the grave ofthose who died for the faith?"
The chief lifted up his right hand towards heaven, and slowly repeatedthat sublime verse from Isaiah, which to those who lived in that remoteperiod must have seemed as full of mystery as of consolation,--_"Thydead shall live! My dead body shall they arise! Awake and sing, yethat dwell in dust: for thy dew the dew of herbs, and the earth, shallcast out the dead._"[1]
The sound of that glorious promise of Scripture seemed to rouseHadassah from her agonizing grief; she lifted up her bowed head, calmand serene as before. Turning to the veiled woman near her, she said,"We may not burn perfumes over these our honoured dead, but you, Zarah,my child, have brought living flowers for the burial, and theirfragrance shall rise as incense. Cast them into the grave ere we closeit."
Obedient to the command of her aged relative, the maiden whom Hadassahhad addressed glided forward to the brink of the grave, and threw downinto it a fragrant shower of blossoms. The movement threw back herveil, and there flashed upon Lycidas a vision of loveliness moreexquisite than the poet had ever beheld even in his dreams, as the fullstream of moonlight fell on the countenance of the fairest of all thedaughters of Zion. Her long dark lashes drooped, moist with tears, asshe performed her simple act of reverence towards her dead kinsmen;then Zarah raised her eyes with a mournful sweet expression, which wassuddenly exchanged for a look of alarm--she started, and a faint cryescaped from her lips. The maiden had caught sight of the strangercrouching in the deep shadow, her eyes had met his--concealment wasover--Lycidas was discovered!
[1] Isaiah xxvi. 19. It will be observed that interpolated italics areomitted.