Had grown the princeliest having of our tribe,
And all to reap ingratitude, contempt,
And penury, turned eyes, and giftless hands,
Sheer-starving here on half a drachm a day,
And self-detested in the loathsome trade
That earns the niggard pittance, must be fain
To grovel with the filthy brutes I guard,
And cheat my gnawing belly with the husks
They hardly care to crunch.

 There comes the howling madman from the tombs
That worries me with daily jibe and taunt
And curses: and he's strong, too — that's the worst —
Lean as he is, I saw him grapple once
With Dan of Gadara, the wrestling Jew,
And fling him, stunned and shattered, to the earth,
As I might smash a melon on the rock.
I would my old boar's tusk were in his flank!
Where shall I hide me? — Hah! he turns away.
Thanks to those trampers on the distant road
That catch his eye. He'll scare them! Little dream
Their worships of the lion in their path.
Why, what is this? I have seen him face ere now
A score of Herod's stoutest men-at-arms,
And scatter them in panic; and lo! here
He nears those pilgrims, cringing, like a slave
Before an angry master; or a hound
That eyes the lifted lash, nor dares to bite,
Nor dares to fly. I cannot catch his words, —
The distance blurs them; but his gesture owns
Some power his devil does not dare gainsay,
Some fascination that, despite himself.
Attracts and spells him. He's a proper man
That seems their chief, — a marvellous proper man!
With what a calm majestic confidence
He heads the huddling dozen at his heels!
By heaven, it's strange! — the madman kneels to him —
Clasps suppliant hands, — most wonderful! I catch
No glint of arms, no sign of force to quell
The fiend that dwells in him, yet — manifest
The maniac owns his Master; seems to wait
Command, submissive, rises, bows the head
Of reverence, takes the hindmost place i' the troop.
Meek as an infant, follows like a sheep
The pilgrims on their path, — most wonderful!
Pray heaven he come not back more mad than erst!
Curious! — what sudden gust was that which swept
Athwart me? What strange rushing as of wings
Innumerable plied? There's not a cloud
In all the dome of heaven, no sign of —— Hey!
What ails the swine? I've heard men say a pig
Can see the wind; there's something in this breeze.
Visible to them, I see not. How they start.
And leap, and whine, and squeal! — why, God's my life!
They're off — the old boar the foremost! Sheva! ho!
The lubber does not hear me; fast asleep,
I dare be sworn, beneath the sycamores, —
Quick! to the cliff and head them back! — too late!
There's a black torrent pouring down its side
That never will flow back! an avalanche
Of pork, — boar, sow, and pig and pigling, — bent
To perish! pell-mell, helter-skelter, down
They blunder headlong, shrieking, jostling, each
Borne down by the other, conscious of the plunge
To come, yet mad to take it. Souse! the lake
Is seething, foaming, round a hundred specks
Of struggling, floundering blackness!

He made a gallant fight though, at the last.
For life, my tough old boar. Ha! ha! all sunk!
Drowned — dead as Pharaoh and his charioteers
In the red gulf! The unclean are cleaner now!
Old John ben Ezra drove a sinful trade
In curing hams: Moses! thou art avenged!
A judgment! yea, a judgment! Ha! ha! ha!
Who laughed beside? methought strange voices pealed
Derisive echo. Sheva's fled; there rests
No creature else that breathes — yet I could swear
I heard it. There's a something in the air,
The place, this sudden, silent solitude.
This wholesale monstrous bestial suicide,
That's weird and awful. Did I mock? God wot,
'Twas scarce a chance for mocking! Let me think
A moment, — I am sped! I dare not face
My master with a tale that whoso hears
Will deem me madder than the madman was,
Cured by the pilgrim, — cured, if I may trust
These eyes that saw him emptied of the fiend
That held him thralled.

I heard, that passed me cliff wards, — was it thus
His devil parted? Hah! and towards my swine?
No; 'tis not possible! The Sadducee
That taught my boyhood used to laugh to scorn
The creed of angel, devil, and all forms
Of super-mortal essence: else indeed
'Twould seem What matter? what is done is done.
Bear he who will this news to Gadara
And Rabbi John ben Ezra. I not grudge
Sheva that errand, or the stripes he'll earn
For bearing it. I shall not claim from John
My last week's wage. My path must lie elsewhere