240 REDEMPTION.
For, if 't be true, as now so often said,
The Son of God must die, why then our pow'r
Is to slay ; and if to slay, to death make
Subject, why not him in penal chains drag?
Or, of his thund'ring arms clean shorn, which us
Pursued dolorous, what shall us forbid,
In turn him to transfix, and bind etern,
With his, in that dim prison, first ordain'd
For us, who too well freedom loved, ages
To serve his vassals, prosternate the throne ?
If nothing, as 'twould seem, then I maintain
Our triumph near, when we shall reign, our right,
And all things under our dominion bring:
Whereof a ray of hope illumes the sky;
For I doubt not, some vantage may be reach'd
Now, o'er the Twelve. One, we have gain'd outright;
And Simon, fain I hope to sift as wheat,
Nor fear, but in him much chaff may be found ;
Some trace at least, of such defection bides.
Twice harsh rebuk'd, he 'fore his fellows stood ;
T' whom 'twas said Get thee behind me Satan ;
High compliment besure to me thus named,
Customed to be the first, and sit supreme,
But, stern reproof; and for worse cause repeat,
When he, to meet his Master on the wave,
Essay'd. Here doubt was clear. Doubt is distrust;
Which if fomented well, when trouble comes,
Denial breeds, or worse ; be it, howe'er,
Our care this weakness to assail with force ;
Perhaps, when least aware, we make him ours,
And with the head fall'n, topple all the limbs.
But deem the task not light ; long contest is,
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