The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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X.

PILATE'S WIFE.

Why

came in dreams the low-born man Between thee and thy rest?

In vain thy whispered message ran,

Though justice was its quest!

Did

some young ignorant angel dare-- Not knowing what must be,

Or blind with agony of care--

To fly for help to thee?

I know not. Rather I believe,

Thou, nobler than thy spouse,

His

rumoured grandeur didst receive, And sit with pondering brows,

Until thy maidens' gathered tale

With possible marvel teems:

Thou sleepest, and the prisoner pale

Returneth in thy dreams.

Well mightst thou suffer things not few

For his sake all the night!

In pale eclipse he suffers, who

Is of the world the light.

Precious it were to know thy dream

Of such a one as he!

Perhaps of him we, waking, deem

As poor a verity.

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