Then I heard again Elijah’s voice. I had been watching close Baal’s prophets, but I now looked straight at him. A fearful gleam was in his eye, a mirth Too stern, methought, for man of woman born; His glance was vexing those robed prophets more Than the sun’s fire; and then be gave it words. ‘Might he not spare one little spark, but one, Your fine god riding there,’ he cried, ‘to light Your sacrifice? He surely has enough; He’s burning you, if not your offering. Poor souls, I pity you!’ They screamed for rage. ‘A little louder,’ smiled he, ‘for perhaps In his warm chariot he has fallen asleep.’ They leaped, they danced, they cut themselves with knives, Till the blood soaked their robes and poured in streams From their lanced foreheads. Then he laughed aloud Great shouts of laughter, till the echoes rang From crag to crag on Carmel. ‘Keep it up, Another dance!’ he shrieked; ‘another song! Leap rather higher; never grudge some drops Of your dear blood, so precious in his sight. Ye know he is a god, my reverend friends; How often have ye told the people so? Your pretty speeches and the miracles Which ye have shown them, these were not, of course, Mere lies accursed. He is a god, you know. Louder, I say; he’s old, perhaps, and deaf; Out with your beards--that’s hopeful--crack your throats In yelling chorus. Good, good--ha, ha, ha!’ He rubbed his hands, waved wildly in the air His sheep-skin mantle, laughed until the tears Streamed down his face, and all his body shook With paroxysms of mirth and scorn. Ah me! That laughter sounded fearfully, and seemed Not human in its fiery ruthlessness. But as he stood on Carmel, charred and gray, A dead land lay below, his native land; And the white corpse-eyes made appeal to him Against its murderers, murderers of the truth, Baal’s lying prophets. Furthermore, I think That this Elijah is not to be judged Like common men. The little rippling lake, Safe hid among the hills, can never know The ocean’s tempests.--So they writhed and tore, In ecstasies of grief and rage. At last They hung their heads in mute despair, and looked Upon the ground. Elijah stood erect, Terrible earnestness and majesty Now sitting on his brow. Twelve stones he took-- Mark, twelve; this challenge in the full name Of Israel as it stooped to David’s hand, And with one mighty throb the multitude Approved Elijah’s purpose;--twelve smooth stones From Carmel’s side, and with them he repaired Jehovah’s altar. Then, at his command, We filled the trench with water, till it ran Around the altar like a surging stream, And washed the stones, and soaked the wood beneath The sacrifice. He knelt upon the ridge, Against the golden, placid sky of eve;