The Two Rabbins

The Rabbi Nathan two-score years and ten     Walked blameless through the evil world, and then,     Just as the almond blossomed in his hair,     Met a temptation all too strong to bear,     And miserably sinned. So, adding not     Falsehood to guilt, he left his seat, and taught     No more among the elders, but went out     From the great congregation girt about     With sackcloth, and with ashes on his head,     Making his gray locks grayer. Long he prayed,     Smiting his breast; then, as the Book he laid     Open before him for the Bath-Col's choice,     Pausing to hear that Daughter of a Voice,     Behold the royal preacher's words: "A friend     Loveth at all times, yea, unto the end;     And for the evil day thy brother lives."     Marvelling, he said: "It is the Lord who gives     Counsel in need. At Ecbatana dwells     Rabbi Ben Isaac, who all men excels     In righteousness and wisdom, as the trees     Of Lebanon the small weeds that the bees     Bow with their weight. I will arise, and lay     My sins before him."     And he went his way     Barefooted, fasting long, with many prayers;     But even as one who, followed unawares,     Suddenly in the darkness feels a hand     Thrill with its touch his own, and his cheek fanned     By odors subtly sweet, and whispers near     Of words he loathes, yet cannot choose but hear,     So, while the Rabbi journeyed, chanting low     The wail of David's penitential woe,     Before him still the old temptation came,     And mocked him with the motion and the shame     Of such desires that, shuddering, he abhorred     Himself; and, crying mightily to the Lord     To free his soul and cast the demon out,     Smote with his staff the blankness round about.     At length, in the low light of a spent day,     The towers of Ecbatana far away     Rose on the desert's rim; and Nathan, faint     And footsore, pausing where for some dead saint     The faith of Islam reared a domed tomb,     Saw some one kneeling in the shadow, whom     He greeted kindly: "May the Holy One     Answer thy prayers, O stranger!" Whereupon     The shape stood up with a loud cry, and then,     Clasped in each other's arms, the two gray men     Wept, praising Him whose gracious providence     Made their paths one. But straightway, as the sense     Of his transgression smote him, Nathan tore     Himself away: "O friend beloved, no more     Worthy am I to touch thee, for I came,     Foul from my sins, to tell thee all my shame.     Haply thy prayers, since naught availeth mine,     May purge my soul, and make it white like thine.     Pity me, O Ben Isaac, I have sinned!"     Awestruck Ben Isaac stood. The desert wind     Blew his long mantle backward, laying bare     The mournful secret of his shirt of hair.     "I too, O friend, if not in act," he said,     "In thought have verily sinned. Hast thou not read,     'Better the eye should see than that desire     Should wander?' Burning with a hidden fire     That tears and prayers quench not, I come to thee     For pity and for help, as thou to me.     Pray for me, O my friend!" But Nathan cried,     "Pray thou for me, Ben Isaac!"     Side by side     In the low sunshine by the turban stone     They knelt; each made his brother's woe his own,     Forgetting, in the agony and stress     Of pitying love, his claim of selfishness;     Peace, for his friend besought, his own became;     His prayers were answered in another's name;     And, when at last they rose up to embrace,     Each saw God's pardon in his brother's face!     Long after, when his headstone gathered moss,     Traced on the targum-marge of Onkelos     In Rabbi Nathan's hand these words were read:     "/Hope not the cure of sin till Self is dead;     Forget it in love's service, and the debt     Thou, canst not pay the angels shall forget;     Heaven's gate is shut to him who comes alone;     Save thou a soul, and it shall save thy own!