C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Sodoma’s ‘Christ Scourged’

I SAW in Siena pictures,

Wandering wearily;

I sought not the names of the masters

Nor the works men care to see;

But once in a low-ceiled passage

I came on a place of gloom,

Lit here and there with halos

Like saints within the room.

The pure, serene, mild colors

The early artists used

Had made my heart grow softer,

And still on peace I mused.

Sudden I saw the Sufferer,

And my frame was clenched with pain;

Perchance no throe so noble

Visits my soul again.

Mine were the stripes of the scourging;

On my thorn-pierced brow blood ran;

In my breast the deep compassion

Breaking the heart for man.

I drooped with heavy eyelids,

Till evil should have its will;

On my lips was silence gathered;

My waiting soul stood still.

I gazed, nor knew I was gazing;

I trembled, and woke to know

Him whom they worship in heaven

Still walking on earth below.

Once have I borne his sorrows

Beneath the flail of fate!

Once, in the woe of his passion,

I felt the soul grow great!

I turned from my dead Leader!

I passed the silent door;

The gray-walled street received me:

On peace I mused no more.