Jesus Christ—­John had bought and sold,
        Jesus Christ—­John had eaten and drunk;
To him, the Flesh meant silver and gold. 
        (Salva reverentia.)
Now it was,” Saviour, bountiful lamb,
        “I have roasted thee Turks, though men roast me! 50
“See thy servant, the plight wherein I am! 
        “Art thou a saviour?  Save thou me!”

Chorus.

       ’Tis John the mocker cries, “Save thou me!”

VII

Who maketh God’s menace an idle word? 
        —­Saith, it no more means what it proclaims,
Than a damsel’s threat to her wanton bird? 
        For she too prattles of ugly names. 
—­Saith, he knoweth but one thing—­what he knows? 
        That God is good and the rest is breath;
Why else is the same styled Sharon’s rose? 60
        Once a rose, ever a rose, he saith.

Chorus.

        O, John shall yet find a rose, he saith!

VIII

Alack, there be roses and roses, John! 
        Some, honied of taste like your leman’s tongue: 
Some, bitter; for why? (roast gaily on!)
        Their tree struck root in devil’s-dung. 
When Paul once reasoned of righteousness
        And of temperance and of judgment to come,
Good Felix trembled, he could no less: 
        John, snickering, crook’d his wicked thumb. 70

Chorus.

        What cometh to John of the wicked thumb?

IX

Ha ha, John plucketh now at his rose
        To rid himself of a sorrow at heart! 
Lo,—­petal on petal, fierce rays unclose;
        Anther on anther, sharp spikes outstart;
And with blood for dew, the bosom boils;
        And a gust of sulphur is all its smell;
And lo, he is horribly in the toils
        Of a coal-black giant flower of hell!

Chorus.

        What maketh heaven, That maketh hell. 80

X

So, as John called now, through the fire amain,
        On the Name, he had cursed with, all his life—­
To the Person, he bought and sold again—­
        For the Face, with his daily buffets rife—­
Feature by feature It took its place: 
        And his voice, like a mad dog’s choking bark,
At the steady whole of the Judge’s face—­
        Died.  Forth John’s soul flared into the dark.

SUBJOINETH the abbot DEODAET.

        God help all poor souls lost in the dark!