BOOK XXII.

DRUSILLA AND NERO.

While Paul in chains is writing to Christian churches letters characterized at once by the sublimest reaches of spiritual vision and by the most painstaking condescension to details of practical precept, Simon the sorcerer, with Felix and Drusilla, plots the apostle's death. Simon proceeds by indirection, having it in mind to bring about the death of Felix also. This he accomplishes, with the collusion and complicity of Drusilla. But first, at Drusilla's instance, he procures for her in company with her husband an audience with Nero, of which Poppæa, the emperor's favorite, is secretly an observer. Poppæa notices the impression made on her sovereign by Drusilla, and she is openly present at a subsequent hearing granted by Nero to the beautiful Jewess, during which the latter accuses Paul, together with other crimes, of instigating the murder by poison of Felix. Nero throughout displays, with much license, his reckless and frivolous character.

DRUSILLA AND NERO.

That Phrygian slave did not companionless His way Colossæ-ward pursue; he went By Tychicus accompanied, who bore Another letter written from the lips Of Paul to the Colossian church at large. This gloried and exulted in sublime Prophetic visions of far future things-- Things future far and other quite than these. Paul's hand was manacled, but not his soul; That, given the freedom of the universe, Ranged as at will on wing omnipotent Through all the heights and depths of space and time, And saw unutterable things, which he Seeking to lade upon expression made The very pillars of expression bend And sway and totter, like to sink, beneath The burden insupportable they bore.

Great soul and free, free in a body bound, So soaring those empyreal altitudes Winged with his native vigor but upborne On a strong-breasted gale of power divine Inspiring and enabling him, who took Undazzled, like an eagle in full gaze Upon the sun, insufferably bright Glimpses of heavenly glory, he yet deigned-- Nay, he ascended but to condescend The mightier by his lofty lowliness, From exaltation such beheld come down!-- Deigned to the level of the mean degree Of men that needed to be counselled thus: "Lie not one to another, seeing ye Have put off the old man that late ye were, Him with his deeds, and the new man put on, The man made new through knowledge to become Once more the image, long so far defaced, Of that God who at first created him. Put ye on, therefore, as elect of God To be His holy and belovéd, all Sweet meltingness of heart, kindness and love, A lowly mind most meek, long-suffering, Forbearing one another, and should ever, But that be far! some man among you have Complaint or quarrel against any, then, As Christ forgave you once, forgive so ye; And over all these vestments of the soul, Completing them and binding them secure, Put ye on love, girdle of perfectness. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.

"Ye wives, to your own husbands subject be, So yielding as befits you in the Lord. Ye husbands, love your wives and nourish not Against them any bitterness of heart. Children, obey your parents in all things, For this well-pleasing is unto the Lord. Fathers, good heed give ye not to provoke Your children unto wrath, lest they lose heart. Servants, your masters in the flesh obey, Not with eye-service as men-pleasers, this, But single-heartedly as fearing God. And whatsoever be the thing ye do, Heartily do it, as if doing all For the Lord Christ in heaven and not for men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive Guerdon of that inheritance reserved For your true bond of service is to Christ. But he that doeth wrong shall for that wrong Due recompense receive; and with the Lord Is no respect of person or degree. Ye masters, to your servants what is just And equal render; for a Master ye, Ye also, have who watcheth from the heaven."

While Paul with tongue or pen such things discoursed, Things heavenly and things earthly intermixed (Yet so as earthly things to raise to heaven, Like the sea lifted skyward by the moon), Simon the sorcerer, with the guilty pair, His master and his mistress, otherwise Was busy, plotting the apostle's death. Plot within plot there was; the sorcerer sought The death of Felix too, for hate of him. To compass this, he fed Drusilla's mind With bitter poison and with poison sweet; The bitter, of innuendo to inflame Her jealous rancor more against her spouse; The sweet, of flattery ever interfused In casual hint dropped, whisper by the way, No recognition sought, still less reply, Rebuke, repudiation, tempted not, But inly working to inebriate Her pride of beauty and her sense of power, Till she should dare whatever need be dared Of danger or of crime to clear her way To empire hoped over the emperor.

At length the double venom took effect Such on Drusilla's fierce aspiring mind, That Simon ventured on these words to her: "Ill sleeper is thine husband, O my liege! I overhear him oft in troubled dream Belching forth broken voices of unrest. He sleeps like Ætna or Vesuvius, Say like Enceladus with Ætna piled-- Thou knowest their fable of that giant old. I hope he never will by evil chance Work his wife harm unmeant in his nightmares! Such weight, such strength, are monstrous in such throes!"

Drusilla was as deep as Simon; she Well enough guessed whither he tended so. She made her face an utter vacancy, And listened all as if she listened not, While Simon, who was satisfied, went on With his approaches neither shunned nor met: "At least, madam, thine own rest needs must be Disturbed: it would be easy to compose Thine husband to a sounder sleep." He paused, And she made answer quite as from the point, But Simon did not miss the relevance: "Simon, my lord is still postponed at court, Has had no hearing of the emperor: Reason enough that he should restless be. Procure he have his audience soon, and then-- Simon, what thinkest thou? Would it not be well That I attend him when he pleads his cause? Thou knowest I have some gift of eloquence, The woman's, and thy master is but man, And somewhat slow of speech--if thick of wit Too, that becomes me not to say to thee. I feel that I might help our common cause By being in presence with the emperor Myself, as loyal sponsor for my spouse." "Excellent," Simon said; "and no doubt I, Permitted to make proffer such as this From queen Drusilla, shall with ease contrive An early audience with his majesty." The conscious twain each other understood, But neither token gave with lip or eye.

Simon bethought him of the beautiful Wanton, Poppæa, with the emperor Precariously omnipotent by her charm. To her, in manner suiting such as he, He wormed at length his way and fawning said: "I have some little skill in certain arts Called by the people magic, and I fain Thus offer thee my services. I thought I might amuse a tedious idle hour For his imperial majesty and so Perhaps, I know not how, but thou shouldst choose, Serve thee, the wonder of the woman world. Nay, this presumes amiss; I crave thy grace, Forgive me, thou who art already queen And empress of the earth, and canst not need Service from any. I am all confused Before thee, like one dazzled by the sun.

"It is my foolish vanity, I feel, Nothing but that; but here am I in Rome, And it would be the triumph of my life-- Just a Judæan magian as I am-- To have seen the emperor, and diverted him With a few rather pretty tricks I know. I on occasion have even awed a mind Open to superstition (as most minds Are sometimes, aye, the wisest among men, Let witness the great Julius) with my art. If ever the fair sovereign of his breast Should in aught wish him more amenable, Thou mayst trust me, and I should not despair To move his mind as thou mightst signify."

Not quite at venture Simon drew his bow Thus, for from common fame he knew how keen That very moment was Poppæa's wish, As yet denied to her imperious suit, To supersede Octavia in her right And be the consort of the emperor. The wily sorcerer warped his sinuous way: "Here I have seemed to sue thee for myself; But, sooth to say, I plead another's cause. Wilt thou not see Drusilla? Jewess, who, Declined from royal fortune and degree, Now seeks a hearing from the emperor For her lord Felix, late in Palestine A ruler, but unhappily since fallen Under some cloud of doubt at Rome. Beseech Thee, give my liege Drusilla speech with thee. She too is fair, if not as thou, yet fair. She fain, I think, would meet the emperor In person, that her tears might touch his heart."

Subtle insinuation was conveyed By Simon saying this, which the quick sense Of the imperial favorite caught; she said: "It does not need thy lady fair should first Wait upon me; without that, she shall have Her wished access and opportunity. When her lord Felix presently is called To hearing, let Drusilla with him come. Her privilege she will find before prepared; So much I freely undertake for her."

Poppæa had her reasons and her scheme; And, as for Simon, he said to himself: "Whichever woman prosper, I am sped."

Drusilla girded up both mind and will To meet her one imperial chance aright. Felix went like a culprit; like a queen Went she, her peerless beauty wielded all With absolute command infallible-- Like a bright weapon edged and tempered true Seen wielded in the perfect swordsman's hand. Slack heed the youthful emperor paid him Still struggling to support his truculence; His gaze fixed undisguisedly on her. Poppæa from behind a screen set nigh Saw and heard all; not unsuspected quite Of the alert Drusilla wise as she In arts of ambush for waylaying words Or looks meant to be private: Nero knew Poppæa was there.

Drusilla triumphing Joyed in her heart to have her rival see How easy usurpation was when one Appeared whose very birthright was to reign: Nero was willing those eavesdropping ears And eyes should witness what would madden them; He took a wanton mischievous delight In teasing that fierce heart to jealousy. This, too much drunken with her glorying, Drusilla did not guess, and overweened In measure of the conquest she had won. The emperor made the hearing short; dismissed Felix dismayed and from his truculence Completely broken--to his servile state Remanded, as in spirit so in mien. Yet did not Nero so his cause conclude: He said frankly to Felix: "Go, my lord, Thy way; I shall not need to see thee more. Let thou this lady at next summons come Without thee; she shall better plead thy cause."

Sentence of death the emperor had pronounced, Not meaning it, upon that wretched man. Felix resumed his truculence, alone Returning with Drusilla; he had felt-- Insensate as he was, could not but feel-- Her separation of herself from him In the imperial presence, and he now Fiercely upbraided her. But she was soft Replying; with indignant tenderness Purged herself clear of all but loving guile Practiced reluctantly in his behoof-- His, sole, her husband, father to her son!-- To serve him with the amorous emperor. Felix could not resist the witching wiles Of fondness and of faithfulness she plied, And he became a plaything in her hands Trusting alike her loyalty and wit.

She presently told Simon: "Full come now The time is that thy master should enjoy Sleep undisturbed with dreams. Compound for me The quieting potion that thou toldst me of. See that thou make it strong enough; thy lord Is not a puny weakling to be soothed With what might still a crying babe; and I-- Nay, thou, thou thyself, Simon, shalt commend His opiate to his lips." The sorcerer shrugged His shoulders and demurred: "O liege, nor thou, Nor I, with our own hands, should to his lips Present the potion. Let a trusted slave Bear it unto his master's bath to-night, And say: 'His queen unto lord Felix sends Health and the promise of more quiet sleep.' The draught is drastic--for a lullaby-- Indeed disturbing in its first effect; But safe sleep it will bring whoever drinks." "Thy sedative will not pain my lord too much?" Drusilla made her tone expressionless In asking; and in like wise Simon said: "Not too much, lady--let me be the judge, Or thee who lovest him equally with me."

Drusilla summoned Syrus, and said to him: "Thou lovest thy master and thy mistress well-- Better, I think, of late than once thou didst." "My master and my mistress both I love So as, I trust, to serve them faithfully," The slave, a little hard bestead, replied. "Aye, I have noted thy true love for us; Be sure, lad, thou shalt nothing lose thereby," Drusilla wheedlingly resumed; whereat Syrus could not refrain himself from saying In so much spurning of the sense implied: "Yea, noble lady, none can ever lose Aught by obeying Christ the Lord in heaven." "What meanest thou, boy?" Drusilla sharply said. "Lord other than lord Felix hast thou then?"

Syrus was sorry he had gone so far; Yet loyalty to Jesus and to Paul Wrought in him, and, supported as it was With instinct of unquenchable revolt From Felix and Drusilla both alike, Buoyed him and kept him firm in that assay. "Yea, madam," he replied, "I have a lord, Christ Jesus, crucified once, but alive Now and ascended far above all height By the right hand of God in heaven set down." 'That is of Paul, that surely is of Paul!' Drusilla reasoned; then, with threatening brow, To Syrus: "Whence these things to thee? The truth-- Thou hast heard Paul, and learned such lies from him?" "I have heard Paul, yea, madam, and have learned From him such truth as makes me true to thee Beyond what ever I had been before." "Aye, aye, no doubt," Drusilla, musing, sneered. A light broke in upon her mind; she said: "That precious runaway, Onesimus, He, I suppose, heard Paul, and got himself Puffed up with these same notions of a lord In heaven, which set him feeling free of us. Tell me, what knowest thou of Onesimus? Did he hear Paul? Where is he now? Tell me, Thou rogue, for verily I believe thou knowest."

Shrewd as he was, Syrus conceived a hope, A sudden simple hope that if the truth, The beautiful mere truth, were told her now, Drusilla, yea, Drusilla even, would feel Its power. So he rehearsed the history, How that Onesimus, induced by Paul, Had gone back to his master at Colossæ; How that his master, for the love of Paul Who had erst won him to the love of Jesus, Had bidden Onesimus return to Rome There in his stead to minister to Paul; How that Onesimus had gladly come, And was that moment gratefully with Paul. Drusilla listened, but she gave no sign; She had in truth been listening absently, Absorbedly considering what fresh proof To purpose against Paul perhaps was here. She said to Syrus: "Aye, a pretty tale To entertain thy mistress' ear withal! Why never can you people tell the truth? You always seem to think you must contrive Some falsehood, though the truth would better serve. Well, well, it is your way. But now, my lad, Be ready, when thy master to his bath Shall presently repair, bring me prompt word. An errand I shall have for thee to him That as thou lovest him thou wilt love to do."

Syrus, as bidden duly coming, heard: "Take this, my lad, let not a drop be spilled, And bearing it to thy master say to him, 'Thy lady sends a sleeping-draught to thee, And with it wishes health and placid sleep.'" Syrus, deep scrupling, 'Fair is this, or foul?' Yet found no way not to fulfill the word. Felix said: "This is strange. What sayest thou, boy? Thy mistress sends me this? Thou liest, thou wretch! This is thine own work; thou wouldst do me dead; Drink it thyself, thou varlet, and go sleep. Thou wilt not? Nay, but yea thou wilt, thou shalt; Now, let me see thee drink it every drop." And with his trembling hand the debauchee Gave Syrus back the chalice.

"Let me call My mistress; thou shalt hear from her own lips Whether she did not send this draught to thee, Charging me not to waste one precious drop. I know I should offend by drinking it. But thou mightst take it somewhat heedfully, Trying it drop by drop at first to prove Its virtue and its fitness to thy case." So Syrus pleaded; and his master said: "That is not spoken like a poisoner. But so thou darest, rascal, cast a doubt On what thy mistress sends in love to me? Thou shalt pay dear for that; for I shall tell Her thou presumedst to advise to me A care, forsooth, how I partook her cheer. Here, give it me, and I will toss it off-- One swallow--there!--and lay me down to sleep."

Drusilla, soon thereafter called again To audience with the emperor, high in hope Went radiant with her beauty; but was vexed To find Poppæa seated by his side As if assessor of his judgment-throne. She sat resplendent in her robes of state, As queenly in her person and her port; Yet of a soft delicious loveliness That took Drusilla captive by its charm. Aspiring as she did to rival her Drusilla thought involuntary thoughts Of admiration mixed with jealousy: 'No wonder that she sits there throned by him, Imperial lovely creature that she is! That bloom of youth and beauty on her cheek! The tempting undulation of repose Suggested underneath the graceful folds Of vesture that flow down the supple limbs And softening into curves of lusciousness The statuesque perfection of her form! But pampered with what pains of luxury! They say five hundred asses follow her Wherever she makes progresses abroad And spend their milk to brim a bath for her, That her sweet flesh and delicate lose not That melting softness and that lucency!' 'The wanton!'--so she virtuously thought.

Poppæa was all graciousness; she bade Drusilla trust her friendship utterly. She had had herself her sorrow; whereat tears Orbed large her lucid eyes and fairer made. She quoted Dido out of Virgil, saying, "'Myself not inexperienced in distress, I learn to succor who are miserable.' My Otho--but that wound is yet too fresh! Why had lord Felix died so suddenly? He had no need to die so--if he took His own life rashly in despair; his cause Was far from lost--in fact, was safe enough--" "His brother Pallas," Nero interposed, "Had seen to that; but there were reasons of state Why his acquittal should not yet transpire." "Indeed I comforted my spouse with hope All that I could," Drusilla wiped a tear Responding, "and it was not suicide, I think now, but a prompted murder base." "Murder is rampant everywhere in Rome," The Rhadamanthine Nero sadly said; "But we think little of it till it stalks Into the sacred circle of our own And strikes down husband, mother, ruthlessly!" Poppæa and the emperor joined hands In tacit token of sweet sympathy.

'Such acting! Can I hope to equal it?' Drusilla, not a little dashed in spirit, Said to herself; 'yet let me not despair.' "Madam, thy husband's death must be avenged," So Nero, with imperial complaisance But in a manner to dismiss the theme. Accepting the dismissal meant, and yet Attaching to her dutiful reply A hint to tempt him on, Drusilla said: "I thank thy majesty for saying that; And the same stroke will many crimes avenge."

Had she achieved her wish? She could not guess. Nero, as if with shift of aim, inquired: "Thou art late arrived in Rome from Palestine; What dost thou chance to know of this man Paul, Prisoner here, like thyself Jew in blood?" "I thank thee too that thou hast asked me that," Drusilla with judicial candor said; "Aye, Paul is of one kindred with myself, I blush to say it; he is a renegade, Offscouring, outcast of his countrymen. I pray thee judge thou not our race from him." "But our sage Seneca, my schoolmaster," Smiled Nero with imperial pleasantry, "Speaks otherwise of Paul. I bade him go Visit the Jew philosopher in chains And sound him of the depth of wisdom his. He brought me back a wonderful report; 'A little transcendental,' so he said, 'Too much of Oriental mysticism, But sane at bottom, and a man of worth.' Tell us about Paul. I should be much pleased To put to blush my old oracular Smug Seneca with proof that he for once At least mistook; a fine old gentleman Is Seneca, but too infallible; In fact, intolerably infallible. I cannot stand infallibility-- Except my own and thine of course, my dear Poppæa! When they come to deify Us, we shall have to be infallible. That is, supposably: I will inquire Of Seneca; he is my arbiter, Know, madam, in these minor points, as is My superfine good friend Petronius In those more serious points of etiquette."

Drusilla masked amazement, listening keen While this young portent of an emperor Let play his humor of hilarity. Eccentric and incalculable curves Of orbit, pure caprices of career, Might seem to be the movement of his speech; But always, from whatever apogee, It failed not its return to bitterness: The playful tiger gnashed his ravin fangs. Still turning toward Drusilla, he went on: "Behooves, lady, thine emperor of the world Should be well schooled in all things; I abound In tutors at my elbows to nudge me; Old Burrus there, I have not mentioned him-- No disrespect intended--what thinkest thou? Schoolmasters and schoolmistresses and all, Is there not risk they overstep the bound? So few know where, just where, the limit is. My own dear mother--to her ashes peace!-- Sacred as was her right, if she had lived Might yet have come to manage overmuch."

Poppæa even, in her victorious calm Of conscious power beside him, winced at this As at slant notice served upon herself; And poor Drusilla hugged a shudder down. But Nero rattled on licentiously: "What was I saying? Aye, 'infallible'"-- And toward Poppæa now his eye he turned-- "We two shall have to be infallible-- I take it so--when they make gods of us. What a bore that, to be infallible! Bore to be anything because one must! Let us take it as a joke and not be bored-- Uproarious joke, my dear, for me and thee To pose as gods, while we hold both our sides Lest we split laughing and upset mankind!

"But for the present here is help arrived, Welcome, while we stay only mortals yet, To make that old prig of a Seneca Come down once from his magisterial throne." Wherewith he to Drusilla spoke once more: "Madam, we listen, tell us about Paul."

Besides that menace slanted in his words, The gamesome emperor hurt Drusilla sore Demonstrating before her thus a firm Accord and understanding knit between Himself and this Poppæa; worse to bear, Poppæa's easy air of affable-- A condescension equal to his own Toward her, Drusilla, air as of a queen Deigning her scepter toward a suppliant! Drusilla would have felt it like a touch Of tonic to her blood, could she have found One least hint that Poppæa in her heart Hated her: but Poppæa far too well Was mistress of her part; she sweetly smiled Exquisite discomposure on her foe.

With sheer exertion of her will, or helped Only with the delight to injure Paul-- Daunted, yet with a front of dauntlessness-- Drusilla entered on her perjury. By the reaction of her eloquence Upon herself reflected from the fixed Admiring heed she won, she plucked up heart Of buoyance to be brilliant more and more As she went on and told the emperor, Him chiefly, and at length not her at all, How Paul was a disturber everywhere; He at Jerusalem had raised a mob And tumult of his outraged countrymen Against himself; they, out of loyalty, Would then and there have rent him limb from limb, But that the chiliarch intervened to save The wretch from violence--not of the law, Though well deserved--and under escort thence Sent him to her lord Felix, governor At Cæsarea, to be held and judged. Felix, who was the heart of lenity, Not bearing to condemn him for his crimes, Postponed his trial, until Festus came Successor to her husband dispossessed Of kingdom for his too much clemency-- Fault, yet a noble fault, and Cæsar-like ('My Otho!' thy word, madam; 'my Felix!' mine)-- Then Festus on the point to sentence him Was thwarted by the culprit's hardihood; Desperate hardihood seeking reprieve At least from doom by refuge in appeal To Cæsar.

"Aye, a Roman citizen Paul has devised some scheme of fraud to be-- Gross profanation of a sacred right Perverted to asylum thus from crime! Paul is a master mind--no need to swear Falsely that he is not; wise Seneca Was not so much to blame for being deceived In him, so upright-seeming, plausible. Their best man, sagest, subtlest of them all, The Jewish councillors picked out to send Hither with Paul to make his sentence sure. Alas, the culprit was too deep for him. One night on shipboard in the voyage hither He sought to bribe the soldier guarding him To make away with this Jew Shimei By tossing him in darkness overboard. That plot did not succeed; but Paul contrived To hoodwink the centurion and make him Believe the scheme to murder was not his, Paul's, against Shimei, but Shimei's against Paul! So Shimei was thrown into chains, while Paul Stalked the deck free, though for form's sake still watched. This lasted, till the very gods in heaven Had pity on poor Shimei and with stroke Of lightning set him free from men by death."

"So, is a stroke of lightning pity then, Sometimes," said Nero, "with the gods in heaven? A piquant way to pity! We, my dear"-- The emperor with a frolic feline look That made Poppæa shiver turned to her-- "When we are gods on earth, may imitate Those our facetious cousins in the skies With many a stroke of lightning launched in pity!"

An almost boyish blithesomeness lit up The handsome face of Nero saying this; Had it not been for frightful lightning strokes Too frequent sent in deadly earnest down From that Olympus of imperial power, All might have seemed but pranksome playfulness. Drusilla--with profound obeisance bowed-- After due deferent pause if it should please His majesty to be facetious farther, Her weaving at her loom of lies resumed: "Thou wouldst in vain, O emperor, inquire Of that centurion Julius for the truth; He himself fell a helpless prey to Paul. Why, on the wretched island where our ship Was stranded, lost, and where all winter we Were cooped up waiting for reluctant spring, Day after day did that oblivious man Attend upon his prisoner and a crew, That prisoner's dupes about him clustering ever, To hear long tales which seemed to cast a spell On whoso heard them and bewitch his sense. I grieve to say a Roman knight was found There, Sergius Paulus, to lend countenance-- A name proconsular so much defiled! Yea, and the Roman governor of the isle, Publius, fell openly into Paul's snare.

"No very serious matter it might seem, So far, but hearken what a sequel came. A worthy member of our court abroad, Who loyally our fortune followed still, And follows--O Sire, in this degenerate age, Happy if ancient loyalty survives!-- Simon, a man of merit and device, Saw when, one morning on an open hill Withdrawn, Paul made a demonstration dire Before all these assembled to behold Whom I have named, what he could do, and would, With practice of his wicked magic arts. He smote a woman of his company Who had offended him dead at a stroke Of incantation that his lips let fall. Simon will tell thee, that thou hear first-hand.

"But to crown all"--and here Drusilla's voice Faltered, and her eyes, eloquent before With fine indignant passion, now with tears Dimmed, pathos tenfold eloquent took on-- "Aye, to crown all, no doubt my Felix fell A victim to his ingrate wickedness. Our slave-boy Syrus bore his lord a drink Pretended as of virtue to bring sleep-- Which my poor Felix long had needed sore!-- It brought sleep, but the sleep it brought was death. Alas, my Felix! And, last infamy, That slave lad had been primed by Paul to lay Her consort's murder at his spouse's door! The frontless varlet had the face to tell His mistress to her very teeth that she Had herself sent that sleeping-draught by him To Felix as he took his evening bath. It was Paul's sorcery made the boy believe, Against his own right senses, what was false. I should have told thee how in lesser sort, That is, in matter of estate--light thing Indeed in contrast of such harm to life-- We had before this suffered from Paul's hands; For he beguiled away a slave of ours-- By name Onesimus, a Phrygian lad-- Through whom perverted first himself from faith This other servant Syrus was seduced. No end to that wretch Paul's devices evil! Let him go free, nay, let him only live, Though in a prison, the emperor has a foe Cannot indeed unfix him from his throne-- Where he sits firm as on Olympus Jove (If thus a faithful Jew may fit her speech)-- But will the quick seeds of sedition sow To fill the empire with their harvest wild. Paul teaches all men of another king Than Cæsar whose sole right it is to reign."

While thus Drusilla at the emperor's ear Artfully wove false witness against Paul, Paul in his chains was beating out his heart In throbbing letters of such strain as this: If any consolation, then, in Christ There be, if any comfort sweet of love, If in the Spirit any fellowship, If any moving of compassion even, Make my joy full, belovéd, that ye be Like-minded each with other, the same love Within you all, one spirit, one accord; Far be contention, and vainglory far, But all in lowly-mindedness esteem Each one his fellow better than himself. Look not each man toward his own things alone, But each man also toward the other's look. This mind be in you which in Jesus was: He, in His right, was of the form of God, Yet thought not his equality with God A thing to be held fast to as His spoil; But freely made himself of no repute, Taking upon Him the bond-servant's form And entering the similitude of men. Nor yet was this enough; He, being found In fashion as a man, humbled Himself Still farther and became obedient, To the degree of dying--not a death Such as befalls the common lot of men, But that most dreadful death upon the cross This is the reason why the righteous God Exalted Him so highly and the name Gave Him that over every name prevails, That in the name of Jesus every knee Should bow, of beings in heaven, of beings on earth, Of beings under earth, and every tongue Confess that Jesus Christ is Lord of all Unto the glory of the Father God.

So, my belovéd, as ye have obeyed Me ever, not as in my presence only But in my absence now much more, work out Your own salvation with much wholesome fear, Awed in the thought that God Himself it is That in you works alike to will and work As seemeth in His holy pleasure good. No murmurings and no questionings allow, That ye may blameless be and void of guile, Children of God, open to no rebuke, Among a crooked people and perverse, Full in the midst of whom ye shine as lights Set in the darkness of a world of sin; Steadfastly holding forth the word of life, That in the day of Christ I may rejoice As having not in vain run this my race, And not in vain accomplished all my toil. But, let it even be mine to be poured out, As on an altar set for sacrifice, A victim for the service of your faith, Know I rejoice and with you all rejoice; And for the selfsame cause rejoice all ye, Yea, and in fellowship with me rejoice.'

From prison this, in face of martyrdom! Whatever fell, Paul's victory was secure. Such love, such faith, such hope, such power in Christ Of joy, such hold on heaven, was to defeat Present or future, harm or threat of harm-- From earth, from hell, aimed--inaccessible, Safe as a star smiling above a storm.

So then Paul wrote, and such himself he was, While those vain wicked wished to work him ill.

Though the twain listened with all courteous heed To what Drusilla told and acted then, Nor Nero nor Poppæa was deceived; But both admired, and this Drusilla felt. Having retrieved thus in some part her loss, She heard demurely while the emperor said: "Thou understandest, madam, this is not A formal sitting of our court august. I oft advise myself beforehand thus-- Though seldom, lady, so agreeably-- What the real merits of an issue are. I have much enjoyed thy story--and thyself-- And I shall hope to see thee yet again. Meantime, I pray thee, send thy Simon to me; I might find use for such a man as he."

Poppæa, to play out her part of queen, Added a gracious word: "And come thyself To see me--by the emperor's leave assumed-- And teach me to be Jewess, such as thou. It must be lovely beyond anything To hate so and abide so beautiful!"

She had mixed a cunning bitter with her sweet; Perhaps her Nero so would be forewarned!