From the dull flesh about them, and the hues
Deepened beneath the hard unmoistened scales,
And from their edges grew the rank white hair,
-And Helon was a leper!

Day was breaking

When at the altar of the temple stood

The holy priest of God. The incense lamp

Burned with a struggling light, and a low chaunt

Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof

Like an articulate wail, and there, alone,

Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt.

The echoes of the melancholy strain

Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up,

Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head

Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off

His costly raiment for the leper's garb,

And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip

Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still

Waiting to hear his doom :

Depart! depart, O child

Of Israel, from the temple of thy God!

For He has smote thee with his chastening rod,

And to the desert-wild,

From all thou lov'st away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague His people may be free.

Depart! and come not near

The busy mart, the crowded city, more;
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er ;
And stay thou not to hear

Voices that call thee in the way; and fly
From all who in the wilderness pass by.

Wet not thy burning lip

In streams that to a human dwelling glide;

Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide;

Nor kneel thee down to dip

The water where the pilgrim bends to drink,

By desert well, or river's grassy brink.

And pass thou not between

The weary traveller and the cooling breeze;

And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen;

Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.

And now depart! and when

Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him

Who, from the tribes of men,

Selected thee to feel his chastening rod.
Depart! O leper! and forget not God!

And he went forth-alone! not one of all
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name
Was woven in the fibres of the heart

Breaking within him now, to come and speak
Comfort unto him. Yea-he went his way,
Sick, and heart-broken, and alone-to die!
For God had cursed the leper!

It was noon,

And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool

In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow,
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched
The loathsome water to his fevered lips,
Praying that he might be so blest-to die!
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee,
He drew the covering closer on his lip,
Crying" Unclean! unclean!" and in the folds
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face,
He fell upon the earth till they should pass.
Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name.
"Helon !"-the voice was like the master-tone
Of a rich instrument-most strangely sweet;
And the dull pulses of disease awoke,

And for a moment beat beneath the hot

And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. "Helon! arise!" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him.

Love and awe

Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye
As he beheld the stranger. He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow
The symbol of a princely lineage wore ;
No followers at his back, nor in his hand
Buckler, or sword, or spear-yet in his mien
Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled,
A kingly condescension graced his lips,
The lion would have crouched to, in his lair.
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn ;
His stature modelled with a perfect grace;
His countenance, the impress of a God
Touched with the open innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky

In the serenest noon; his hair unshorn

Fell to his shoulders; and his curling beard

The fulness of perfected manhood bore.

He looked on Helon earnestly awhile,

As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down,

He took a little water in his hand