LIV

Soon in the combat-crash was tried
The sweep of that edg'd sword,
Whose flash Hell's legions terrified,
Waved by his conquering Lord,
Like him who in th' unequal fray
By rocks defended, held at bay
Foe on advancing foe:

The whirling of that trenchant blade
Beneath his feet dismembered laid

The doughtiest warrior low.

LV

As while beside the rock he fought

9

The Roman chief prevailed,

And each impetuous onslaught

Alike in ruin failed;

So Stephen, guarded by the Rock

His Lord, withstood the conflict shock

However oft attacked;

And now he was about to prove

His worthiness, and all men move

By one surpassing act.

D

PART II.

THE NARRATIVE OF HIS CAREER.

LVI

ALM on his sight the morning rose
That marked the battle day,

He faces his confronting foes

In serried stern array;

Each comes accout'red with the kind

Of weapon suited to his mind,

From Satan's armoury:

Hatred, Revenge, Malice and Rage,

Form fitting weapons to engage

Their saintly enemy.

LVII

From far they flock, a conclave strange

Men well-matured, or old,

The brains of varying scope and range,

The hearts of differing mould;

To those whose claims of high descent Were with attractive person blent;

Whose loftier intelligence

Was founded on sound common sense

Stamping the elder's face;

Judea's sons were wont to give

The powerful prerogative

To judge the weighty case.

LVIII

The chief-priest to the seat sweeps by
To highest power assigned;

His stately presence, thoughtful eye,
Bespeak the master mind:

Chosen from out the council throng;
His intellect, with learning strong,
Could duly sift the right from wrong,
And weigh the balanced claim;

Its larger calibre and mould

Could grasp what others could not hold,

Receive the shot of argument

And hurl the missile strongly sent

Toward th' appointed aim.

LIX

When Stephen's hast'ning footstep rings

Along the massive hall

A fixed and stern attention flings
Its mantle over all.

To one fierce point, the Sanhedrim
Focus their searching eyes on him
Who dared defy their power;

The convex lens frail leaves may burn,

But cannot into ashes turn

The buttress of a tower.

LX

Now rises on the martyr's eye-
The stone-built judgment hall 10
Whose widely built concavity
Sweeps round with circling wall—
A crimson curtain spreads around
To deepen colour, deaden sound,
In lurid angry glare;

A thick-wove carpet stretched below
Teems with the images of woe

The doomed must quickly bear.

LXI

Their glittering eyes were coldly clear
As moonlight on the snow,

These could unmoved behold the tear
Of human anguish flow:

In long habiliments arrayed

They sit, whom mercy never swayed;
To whom law's uttermost was paid
By scourging, cross, or stone;

Justice, unbiassed and severe,

Was the sole word they cared to hear,

Or feeling they would own.

LXII

He stands amid that gathered throng,

His calm undaunted eye,

Meets their stern looks with gaze more strong,

And bears their scrutiny;

He sees around those powers of ill,

Whose hellish hate rejoiced to kill

Thei Saviour and their King;

Yet, by no craven fear oppressed,

He speaks the high thoughts in his breast

And dares what they will bring.