I look forth from these mountains, and behold
The omnipotent and omnipresent night,
Mysterious as the future and the fate
That hangs o’er all men’s lives!  I see beneath me
The desert stretching to the Dead Sea shore,
And westward, faint and far away, the glimmer
Of torches on Mount Olivet, announcing
The rising of the Moon of Passover. 
Like a great cross it seems, on which suspended,
With head bowed down in agony, I see
A human figure!  Hide, O merciful heaven,
The awful apparition from my sight!

And thou, Machaerus, lifting high and black
Thy dreadful walls against the rising moon,
Haunted by demons and by apparitions,
Lilith, and Jezerhara, and Bedargon,
How grim thou showest in the uncertain light,
A palace and a prison, where King Herod
Feasts with Herodias, while the Baptist John
Fasts, and consumes his unavailing life! 
And in thy court-yard grows the untithed rue,
Huge as the olives of Gethsemane,
And ancient as the terebinth of Hebron,
Coeval with the world.  Would that its leaves
Medicinal could purge thee of the demons
That now possess thee, and the cunning fox
That burrows in thy walls, contriving mischief!

Music is heard from within.

Angels of God!  Sandalphon, thou that weavest
The prayers of men into immortal garlands,
And thou, Metatron, who dost gather up
Their songs, and bear them to the gates of heaven,
Now gather up together in your hands
The prayers that fill this prison, and the songs
That echo from the ceiling of this palace,
And lay them side by side before God’s feet!

He enters the castle.

II

HEROD’S BANQUET-HALL

MANAHEM. 
Thou hast sent for me, O King, and I am here.

HEROD. 
Who art thou?

MANAHEM. 
             Manahem, the Essenian.

HEROD. 
I recognize thy features, but what mean
These torn and faded garments?  On thy road
Have demons crowded thee, and rubbed against thee,
And given thee weary knees?  A cup of wine!

MANAHEM. 
The Essenians drink no wine.

HEROD. 
                What wilt thou, then?

MANAHEM. 
Nothing.

HEROD. 
       Not even a cup of water?

MANAHEM. 
                          Nothing. 
Why hast thou sent for me?

HEROD. 
                 Dost thou remember
One day when I, a schoolboy in the streets
Of the great city, met thee on my way
To school, and thou didst say to me:  Hereafter
Thou shalt be king?

MANAHEM. 
                  Yea, I remember it.

HEROD. 
Thinking thou didst not know me, I replied: 
I am of humble birth; whereat thou, smiling,
Didst smite me with thy hand, and saidst again: 
Thou shalt be king; and let the friendly blows
That Manahem hath given thee on this day
Remind thee of the fickleness of fortune.