I said, “If one should wet his lips with wine, And slip the broadest plantain-leaf we find, Or else the lappet of a linen robe, {15} Into the water-vessel, lay it right, And cool his forehead just above the eyes, The while a brother, kneeling either side, Should chafe each hand and try to make it warm,-- He is not so far gone but he might speak.” {20} This did not happen in the outer cave, Nor in the secret chamber of the rock, Where, sixty days since the decree was out, We had him, bedded on a camel-skin, And waited for his dying all the while; {25} But in the midmost grotto: since noon’s light Reached there a little, and we would not lose The last of what might happen on his face. -- 23. the decree: of persecution of the Christians, perhaps that under Domitian. The poet probably did not think of any particular persecution. -- I at the head, and Xanthus at the feet, With Valens and the Boy, had lifted him, {30} And brought him from the chamber in the depths, And laid him in the light where we might see: For certain smiles began about his mouth, And his lids moved, presageful of the end. Beyond, and half way up the mouth o’ the cave, {35} The Bactrian convert, having his desire, Kept watch, and made pretence to graze a goat That gave us milk, on rags of various herb, Plantain and quitch, the rocks’ shade keeps alive: So that if any thief or soldier passed {40} (Because the persecution was aware), Yielding the goat up promptly with his life, Such man might pass on, joyful at a prize, Nor care to pry into the cool o’ the cave. Outside was all noon and the burning blue. {45} -- 36. the Bactrian convert: in vv. 649, 650, he is spoken of as “but a wild childish man, and could not write nor speak, but only loved.” Bactria was a kingdom in Central Asia; the modern name is Balkh {a district in northern Afghanistan as of 1995}. having his desire: as a new convert, the simple man was eager to serve, even unto death. 41. aware: on the lookout; exercising a strict espionage. -- “Here is wine”, answered Xanthus,--dropped a drop; I stooped and placed the lap of cloth aright, Then chafed his right hand, and the Boy his left: But Valens had bethought him, and produced And broke a ball of nard, and made perfume. {50} Only, he did--not so much wake, as--turn And smile a little, as a sleeper does If any dear one call him, touch his face-- And smiles and loves, but will not be disturbed. Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept: {55} It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome, Was burned, and could not write the chronicle.