In speech no farther--though in passionate tears The strong man vented still his else choked heart. Gamaliel, with wise senior sympathy, Sat silent, waiting till that burst were past. Then gravely: "Yea, my son, I know thy zeal, And praise it. Such as thou, in number more, Might somewhat; such as thou, alas, are few." His master's praise Saul took as check and chill, Uttered with that insinuated sense Of sage discountenance to his youthful zeal. He shrank, but braced himself, and gently said: "But, father, not by many or by few Is our God bound to working. Many or few To Him is one. Nay, were there none save me, Were I alone among my brethren, I, Alone among my brethren, yet would dare." Against the vernal aspiration warm Of Saul's young blood and tropic temperament Gamaliel's aged, wise, sententious phlegm, And magisterial manner though benign, Abode unmoved, inert, insensible; Like an ice-Alp that freezes on its cheek A breath of spring soft blowing from the south. With viscid slow demur the old man spoke, And downcast heavily shook his hoary head: "To dare is cheap and common with our race, We are few dastards; did not Judas dare? And Theudas? But their daring came to naught. Wisdom with daring, fortitude to wait, We need, son Saul; the daring that must do, And cannot wait, has wrought us sumless ill." Damped, but remonstrant, Saul still plied his plea: "And yet but now, 'How long,' I heard thee cry, 'How long, Lord God of Sabaoth, how long?'" "Yea," said Gamaliel, "that I daily cry." "Thy counsel and thy praying how agree?" "Men I bid wait; wait not, I pray my God." "Were this not well, O master calmly wise, In trust that God will rouse him at my cry, To rouse myself and strongly side with God? I cannot rest in peace; I hear the woe Denounced for such as safely sit at ease In Zion. Let me do as well as pray." Saul's rising zeal once more the master checked: "Praying is doing, likewise waiting works; But what, son Saul, is in thine heart to do? I cherished better dreams, my son, for thee, Than to behold thee leading to their doom One helpless, hopeless, hapless company more, Insurgent out of season against Rome, Confederate sons of folly and of crime!"