Mount Quarantania, The Divine Tragedy

Christus: A Mystery

                LUCIFER.

                     I.

Not in the lightning’s flash, nor in the thunder,
Not in the tempest, nor the cloudy storm,
        Will I array my form;
But part invisible these boughs asunder,
And move and murmur, as the wind upheaves
        And whispers in the leaves.

Not as a terror and a desolation,
Not in my natural shape, inspiring fear
        And dread, will I appear;
But in soft tones of sweetness and persuasion,
A sound as of the fall of mountain streams,
        Or voices heard in dreams.

He sitteth there in silence, worn and wasted
With famine, and uplifts his hollow eyes
        To the unpitying skies;
For forty days and nights he hath not tasted
Of food or drink, his parted lips are pale,
        Surely his strength must fail.

Wherefore dost thou in penitential fasting,
Waste and consume the beauty of thy youth?
        Ah, if thou be in truth
The Son of the Unnamed, the Everlasting,
Command these stones beneath thy feet to be
        Changed into bread for thee!

CHRISTUS.
’Tis written: Man shall not live by bread alone,
But by each word that from God’s mouth proceedeth!

                      II.
                LUCIFER.

Too weak, alas! too weak is the temptation,
For one whose soul to nobler things aspires,
        Than sensual desires!
Ah, could I, by some sudden aberration,
Lead and delude to suicidal death
        This Christ of Nazareth!

Unto the holy Temple on Moriah,
With its resplendent domes, and manifold
        Bright pinnacles of gold,
Where they await thy coming, O Messiah!
Lo, I have brought thee! Let thy glory here
        Be manifest and clear.

Reveal thyself by royal act and gesture.
Descending with the bright triumphant host
        Of all the highermost
Archangels, and about thee as a vesture
The shining clouds, and all thy splendors show
        Unto the world below!

Cast thyself down, it is the hour appointed;
And God hath given his angels charge and care
        To keep thee and upbear
Upon their hands his only Son, the Anointed,
Lest he should dash his foot against a stone
        And die, and be unknown.

                  CHRISTUS.

’Tis written: Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God!

                     III.

                LUCIFER.

I cannot thus delude him to perdition!
But one temptation still remains untried;
        The trial of his pride,
The thirst of power, the fever of ambition!
Surely by these a humble peasant’s son
        At last may be undone!

Above the yawning chasms and deep abysses,
Across the headlong torrents, I have brought
        Thy footsteps, swift as thought;
And from the highest of these precipices,
The Kingdoms of the world thine eyes behold,
        Like a great map unrolled.

From far-off Lebanon, with cedars crested,
To where the waters of the Asphalt Lake
        On its white pebbles break,
And the vast desert, silent, sand-invested,
These kingdoms all are mine, and thine shall be,
        If thou wilt worship me!

                CHRISTUS.
Get thee behind me, Satan! Thou shalt worship
The Lord thy God; Him only shalt thou serve!

                ANGELS MINISTRANT.
The sun goes down; the evening shadows lengthen,
The fever and the struggle of the day
        Abate and pass away;
Thine Angels Ministrant, we come to strengthen
And comfort thee, and crown thee with the palm,
        The silence and the calm.