This melancholy man compassionate, Who might in musing to himself seem lost, Yet saw and heard with vigilant quick sense Whatever passed about him where he stood, Or where he sat--for most he moveless sat, Moveless and silent, on the swarming deck. One man indeed he spake with, yet with him His speech, grave ever, he spared, and sheathed in tones Soothingly soft and low like blandishment. That one man was a Roman; Roman less To seeming than cosmopolite--his air An air of long-accustomed conversance With whatsoever might be seen and learned Through much Ulyssean wandering to and fro And up and down among his fellow-men, And watching of their works and words and ways. This Roman citizen of the world, mailed proof In habit of a full-experienced mind Against commotion from surprise, was now Visibly moved to wonder seeing Paul. His wonder checked with reverence and with love Indignant to behold the captive state Of one deserving rather wreath than bond, He stepped toward Paul and with such homage paid As liege to lord might pay saluted him. "Grace unto thee, my brother," answered Paul, "From the Lord Jesus Christ, thy Lord and mine!" They twain fell on each other's neck and kissed With tears. Such salutation and embrace-- No more; but this with variant mood was marked By three that saw it. The centurion Blent in his look pleasure with his surprise; But Felix and Drusilla frowned askance (They also knowing the Roman, as at court Courtiers know one another--without love); Those frowned askance, and mixed their mutual eyes In sinister exchange of look malign Portending sequel if the chance should serve; And in Neronian Rome the happy chance Of mischief, but be patient, scarce could fail! That gentle Indian with his pregnant eye Saw all and mused it--then, and after, long-- The cheerful, joyful, reverent greeting given A Jewish prisoner by a Roman lord And by the Jewish prisoner so returned In unaccustomed words ill understood But solemn like the language of a spell; This, with the Roman captain's look benign Approving what surprised him yet; nor less, The menace of the mutual scowls that met Darkening each other on the alien brows Of Felix and Drusilla at the sight-- Most like two clouds that, black already, blown Together, shadow into a deeper dark!