282 REDEMPTION.
Then Claudia's dream perplex'd his anxious mind, And fill'd his vacillating soul with dread 'Beware, have naught to do with that just Man.' The inward conflict limn'd the weak man's face, Gleam'd in his eye, and every feature traced. This more inclined him now, then sway'd him that; Mercy here urged him, fear there held him back. As some tall vessel, long the ocean's pride, With tap'ring masts, firm cordage, snowy sails, And streamers gaily flaunting in the breeze, But ballast wanting, or her rudder lost, Unsteady ploughs the sea, toss'd by each wave, Or leeward dips, obnoxious to the blast, Groans in her timbers, in her cordage creaks, Parts her fair shrouds, and founders in the deep; Or, as some feather'd monarch of the sky, With crippled wing, unequal beats the air, Now rises sideling, now foregoes his flight, Moves zigzag on, stops, flounders in the mire, And falls a prey to him, who fast pursues. So Pilate, hapless toss'd on faction's waves, Vain effort makes and flounders in his fall. For, whom he innocent proclaim'd, he scourged, Then gave to death, the tumult to appease ; And thus his own condemning surely seals :
"No evil have I found in this just Man; No cause whereof ye him do now accuse ; Naught worthy death, and innocent of crime. Of this, and of his blood, in innocence I wash my guiltless hands; look you to it."
THE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.
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