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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by Douglas E. Levy. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + + As a convenience to the reader I have included in this volume the + biographical sketch of Emma Lazarus which originally appeared only + in Vol. I. of these works. Further, the sketch contains references + to passages contained in this volume. --D.L. + + + + + +THE POEMS of EMMA LAZARUS + +in Two Volumes + +VOL. II. + +Jewish Poems: Translation + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF EMMA LAZARUS. + + +THE NEW YEAR. +THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK. +IN EXILE. +IN MEMORIAM--REV. J. J. LYONS. +THE VALLEY OF THE BACA. +THE BANNER OF THE JEW. +THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK. +THE NEW EZEKIEL. +THE CHOICE. +THE WORLD'S JUSTICE. +THE SUPREME SACRIFICE. +THE FEAST OF LIGHT GIFTS. +BAR KOCHBA. +1492. +THE BIRTH OF MAN. +RASCHI IN PRAGUE. +THE DEATH OF RASCHI. +AN EPISTLE. + +BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON: LITTLE POEMS IN PROSE. + I. The Exodus. + II. Treasures. + III. The Sower. + IV. The Test. + V. Currents. + VI. The Prophet. + VII. Chrysalis. + +TO CARMEN SYLVA. +THE DANCE TO DEATH. + +TRANSLATIONS. + + FROM SOLOMON BEN JUDAH GABIROL. + Night-Piece. + Night-Thoughts. + Meditations. + Hymn. + To a Detractor. + Fragment. + Stanzas. + Wine and Grief. + Defiance. + A Degenerate Age. + + FROM ABUL HASSAN JUDAH BEN HA-LEVI. + + A Letter to his Friend Isaac. + Admonition. + Love-Song. + Separation. + Longing for Jerusalem. + On the Voyage to Jerusalem. + To the West Wind. + + FROM MOSES BEN ESRA. + + Extracts from the Book of Tarshish, or "Necklace of Pearls." + In the Night. + Love Song of Alcharisi. + +NACHUM. + + Spring Songs. + +A TRANSLATION AND TWO IMITATIONS. + + I. Donna Clara. + II. Don Pedrillo. + III. Fra Pedro. + +TRANSLATIONS FROM PETRARCH. + + In Vita, LXVII. + In Vita, LXXVI. + In Vita, CV. + In Vita, CIX. + In Morte, II. On the Death of Cardinal Colonna and Laura. + In Morte, XLIII. + In Vita. Canzone XI. + Fragment. Canzone XII. + Fragment. Trionfo d'Amore. + Fragment. Trionfo della Morte. + +TRANSLATIONS FROM ALFRED DE MUSSET. + + The May Night. + The October Night. + +NOTES TO "EPISTLE" OF JOSHUA IBN VIVES OF ALLORQUI. + + + Most of the poems in this volume were originally printed in + "The American Hebrew." + + + + + Publisher's note: Thanks are due to the Editors of "The Century," + Lippincott's Magazine, and "The Critic," for their courtesy in + allowing the poems published by them to be reprinted in these pages. + + + + + + + EMMA LAZARUS. (Written for "The Century Magazine") + + + Born July 22, 1849; Died November 19, 1887. + + + +One hesitates to lift the veil and throw the light upon a life so +hidden and a personality so withdrawn as that of Emma Lazarus; but +while her memory is fresh, and the echo of her songs still lingers +in these pages, we feel it a duty to call up her presence once more, +and to note the traits that made it remarkable and worthy to shine +out clearly before the world. Of dramatic episode or climax in her +life there is none; outwardly all was placid and serene, like an +untroubled stream whose depths alone hold the strong, quick tide. +The story of her life is the story of a mind, of a spirit, ever +seeking, ever striving, and pressing onward and upward to new truth +and light. Her works are the mirror of this progress. In reviewing +them, the first point that strikes us is the precocity, or rather +the spontaneity, of her poetic gift. She was a born singer; poetry +was her natural language, and to write was less effort than to speak, +for she was a shy, sensitive child, with strange reserves and +reticences, not easily putting herself "en rapport" with those around +her. Books were her world from her earliest years; in them she +literally lost and found herself. She was eleven years old when the +War of Succession broke out, which inspired her first lyric outbursts. +Her poems and translations written between the ages of fourteen and +seventeen were collected, and constituted her first published volume. +Crude and immature as these productions naturally were, and utterly +condemned by the writer's later judgment, they are, nevertheless, +highly interesting and characteristic, giving, as they do, the +keynote of much that afterwards unfolded itself in her life. One +cannot fail to be rather painfully impressed by the profound +melancholy pervading the book. The opening poem is "In Memoriam,"-- +on the death of a school friend and companion; and the two following +poems also have death for theme. "On a Lock of my Mother's Hair" gives +us reflections on growing old. These are the four poems written at +the age of fourteen. There is not a wholly glad and joyous strain in +the volume, and we might smile at the recurrence of broken vows, +broken hearts, and broken lives in the experience of this maiden just +entered upon her teens, were it not that the innocent child herself +is in such deadly earnest. The two long narrative poems, "Bertha" and +"Elfrida," are tragic in the extreme. Both are dashed off apparently +at white heat: "Elfrida," over fifteen hundred lines of blank verse, +in two weeks; "Bertha," in three and a half. We have said that Emma +Lazarus was a born singer, but she did not sing, like a bird, for +joy of being alive; and of being young, alas! there is no hint in +these youthful effusions, except inasmuch as this unrelieved gloom, +this ignorance of "values," so to speak, is a sign of youth, common +especially among gifted persons of acute and premature sensibilities, +whose imagination, not yet focused by reality, overreached the mark. +With Emma Lazarus, however, this sombre streak has a deeper root; +something of birth and temperament is in it--the stamp and heritage +of a race born to suffer. But dominant and fundamental though it was, +Hebraism was only latent thus far. It was classic and romantic art +that first attracted and inspired her. She pictures Aphrodite the +beautiful, arising from the waves, and the beautiful Apollo and his +loves,--Daphne, pursued by the god, changing into the laurel, and the +enamored Clytie into the faithful sunflower. Beauty, for its own +sake, supreme and unconditional, charmed her primarily and to the end. +Her restless spirit found repose in the pagan idea,--the absolute +unity and identity of man with nature, as symbolized in the Greek +myths, where every natural force becomes a person, and where, in turn, +persons pass with equal readiness and freedom back into nature again. + +In this connection a name would suggest itself even if it did not +appear,--Heine, the Greek, Heine the Jew, Heine the Romanticist, as +Emma Lazarus herself has styled him; and already in this early volume +of hers we have trace of the kinship and affinity that afterwards so +plainly declared itself. Foremost among the translations are a +number of his songs, rendered with a finesse and a literalness that +are rarely combined. Four years later, at the age of twenty-one, +she published her second volume, "Admetus and Other Poems," which +at once took rank as literature both in America and England, and +challenged comparison with the work of established writers. Of +classic themes we have "Admetus" and "Orpheus," and of romantic the +legend of Tannhauser and of the saintly Lohengrin. All are treated +with an artistic finish that shows perfect mastery of her craft, +without detracting from the freshness and flow of her inspiration. +While sounding no absolutely new note in the world, she yet makes +us aware of a talent of unusual distinction, and a highly endowed +nature,--a sort of tact of sentiment and expression, an instinct +of the true and beautiful, and that quick intuition which is like +second-sight in its sensitiveness to apprehend and respond to external +stimulus. But it is not the purely imaginative poems in this volume +that most deeply interest us. We come upon experience of life in +these pages; not in the ordinary sense, however, of outward activity +and movement, but in the hidden undercurrent of being. "The epochs +of our life are not in the visible facts, but in the silent thoughts +by the wayside as we walk." This is the motto, drawn from Emerson, +which she chooses for her poem of "Epochs," which marks a pivotal +moment in her life. Difficult to analyze, difficult above all to +convey, if we would not encroach upon the domain of private and +personal experience, is the drift of this poem, or rather cycle of +poems, that ring throughout with a deeper accent and a more direct +appeal than has yet made itself felt. It is the drama of the human +soul,--"the mystic winged and flickering butterfly," "flitting +between earth and sky," in its passage from birth to death. + +A golden morning of June! "Sweet empty sky without a stain." +Sunlight and mist and "ripple of rain-fed rills." "A murmur and a +singing manifold." + + + "What simple things be these the soul to raise + To bounding joy, and make young pulses beat + With nameless pleasure, finding life so sweet!" + + +Such is youth, a June day, fair and fresh and tender with dreams and +longing and vague desire. The morn lingers and passes, but the noon +has not reached its height before the clouds begin to rise, the +sunshine dies, the air grows thick and heavy, the lightnings flash, +the thunder breaks among the hills, rolls and gathers and grows, +until + + + Behold, yon bolt struck home, + And over ruined fields the storm hath come." + + +Now we have the phases of the soul,--the shock and surprise of grief +in the face of the world made desolate. Loneliness and despair for +a space, and then, like stars in the night, the new births of the +spirit, the wonderful outcoming from sorrow: the mild light of patience +at first; hope and faith kindled afresh in the very jaws of evil; +the new meaning and worth of life beyond sorrow, beyond joy; and +finally duty, the holiest word of all, that leads at last to victory +and peace. The poem rounds and completes itself with the close of +"the long, rich day," and the release of + + + "The mystic winged and flickering butterfly, + A human soul, that drifts at liberty, + Ah! who can tell to what strange paradise, + To what undreamed-of fields and lofty skies!" + + +We have dwelt at some length upon this poem, which seems to us, in a +certain sense, subjective and biographical; but upon closer analysis +there is still another conclusion to arrive at. In "Epochs" we have, +doubtless, the impress of a calamity brought very near to the writer, +and profoundly working upon her sensibilities; not however by direct, +but reflex action, as it were, and through sympathetic emotion--the +emotion of the deeply-stirred spectator, of the artist, the poet who +lives in the lives of others, and makes their joys and their sorrows +his own. + +Before dismissing this volume we may point out another clue as to the +shaping of mind and character. The poem of "Admetus" is dedicated +"to my friend Ralph Waldo Emerson." Emma Lazarus was between +seventeen and eighteen years of age when the writings of Emerson +fell into her hands, and it would be difficult to over-estimate the +impression produced upon her. As she afterwards wrote: "To how many +thousand youthful hearts has not his word been the beacon--nay, +more, the guiding star--that led them safely through periods of +mental storm and struggle!" Of no one is this more true than herself. +Left, to a certain extent, without compass or guide, without any +positive or effective religious training, this was the first great +moral revelation of her life. We can easily realize the chaos and +ferment of an over-stimulated brain, steeped in romantic literature, +and given over to the wayward leadings of the imagination. Who can +tell what is true, what is false, in a world where fantasy is as real +as fact? Emerson's word fell like truth itself, "a shaft of light +shot from the zenith," a golden rule of thought and action. His +books were bread and wine to her, and she absorbed them into her +very being. She felt herself invincibly drawn to the master, "that +fount of wisdom and goodness," and it was her great privilege during +these years to be brought into personal relations with him. From +the first he showed her a marked interest and sympathy, which became +for her one of the most valued possessions of her life. He criticised +her work with the fine appreciation and discrimination that made +him quick to discern the quality of her talent as well as of her +personality, and he was no doubt attracted by her almost transparent +sincerity and singleness of soul, as well as by the simplicity and +modesty that would have been unusual even in a person not gifted. +He constituted himself, in a way, her literary mentor, advised her +as to the books she should read and the attitude of mind she should +cultivate. For some years he corresponded with her very faithfully; +his letters are full of noble and characteristic utterances, and +give evidence of a warm regard that in itself was a stimulus and a +high incentive. But encouragement even from so illustrious a source +failed to elate the young poetess, or even to give her a due sense +of the importance and value of her work, or the dignity of her +vocation. We have already alluded to her modesty in her unwillingness +to assert herself or claim any prerogative,--something even morbid +and exaggerated, which we know not how to define, whether as over- +sensitiveness or indifference. Once finished, the heat and glow of +composition spent, her writings apparently ceased to interest her. +She often resented any allusion to them on the part of intimate +friends, and the public verdict as to their excellence could not +reassure or satisfy her. The explanation is not far, perhaps, to +seek. Was it not the "Ewig-Weibliche" that allows no prestige but +its own? Emma Lazarus was a true woman, too distinctly feminine to +wish to be exceptional, or to stand alone and apart, even by virtue +of superiority. + +A word now as to her life and surroundings. She was one of a family +of seven, and her parents were both living. Her winters were passed +in New York, and her summers by the sea. In both places her life was +essentially quiet and retired. The success of her book had been +mainly in the world of letters. In no wise tricked out to catch the +public eye, her writings had not yet made her a conspicuous figure, +but were destined slowly to take their proper place and give her the +rank that she afterwards held. + +For some years now almost everything that she wrote was published +in "Lippincott's Magazine," then edited by John Foster Kirk, and we +shall still find in her poems the method and movement of her life. +Nature is still the fount and mirror, reflecting, and again reflected, +in the soul. We have picture after picture, almost to satiety, +until we grow conscious of a lack of substance and body and of vital +play to the thought, as though the brain were spending itself in +dreamings and reverie, the heart feeding upon itself, and the life +choked by its own fullness without due outlet. Happily, however, +the heavy cloud of sadness has lifted, and we feel the subsidence +of waves after a storm. She sings "Matins:"-- + + + "Does not the morn break thus, + Swift, bright, victorious, + With new skies cleared for us + Over the soul storm-tost? + Her night was long and deep, + Strange visions vexed her sleep, + Strange sorrows bade her weep, + Her faith in dawn was lost. + + + "No halt, no rest for her, + The immortal wanderer + From sphere to higher sphere + Toward the pure source of day. + The new light shames her fears, + Her faithlessness and tears, + As the new sun appears + To light her god-like way." + + +Nature is the perpetual resource and consolation. "'T is good to be +alive!" she says, and why? Simply, + + + "To see the light + That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh + With perfect pleasure) the mild breeze stir + Among the garden roses, red and white, + With whiffs of fragrancy." + + +She gives us the breath of the pines and of the cool, salt seas, +"illimitably sparkling." Her ears drink the ripple of the tide, +and she stops + + + "To gaze as one who is not satisfied + With gazing at the large, bright, breathing sea." + + +"Phantasies" (after Robert Schumann) is the most complete and perfect +poem of this period. Like "Epochs," it is a cycle of poems, and the +verse has caught the very trick of music,--alluring, baffling, and +evasive. This time we have the landscape of the night, the glamour +of moon and stars,--pictures half real and half unreal, mystic +imaginings, fancies, dreams, and the enchantment of "faerie," and +throughout the unanswered cry, the eternal "Wherefore" of destiny. +Dawn ends the song with a fine clear note, the return of day, night's +misty phantoms rolled away, and the world itself, again green, +sparkling and breathing freshness. + +In 1874 she published "Alide," a romance in prose drawn from Goethe's +autobiography. It may be of interest to quote the letter she +received from Tourgeneff on this occasion:-- + + + "Although, generally speaking, I do not think it advisable + to take celebrated men, especially poets and artists, as a + subject for a novel, still I am truly glad to say that I + have read your book with the liveliest interest. It is + very sincere and very poetical at the same time; the life + and spirit of Germany have no secrets for you, and your + characters are drawn with a pencil as delicate as it is + strong. I feel very proud of the approbation you give to + my works, and of the influence you kindly attribute to them + on your own talent; an author who write as you do is not + a pupil in art any more; he is not far from being himself + a master." + + +Charming and graceful words, of which the young writer was justly +proud. + +About this time occurred the death of her mother, the first break in +the home and family circle. In August of 1876 she made a visit to +Concord, at the Emersons', memorable enough for her to keep a journal +and note down every incident and detail. Very touching to read now, +in its almost childlike simplicity, is this record of "persons that +pass and shadows that remain." Mr. Emerson himself meets her at the +station, and drives with her in his little one-horse wagon to his +home, the gray square house, with dark green blinds, set amidst noble +trees. A glimpse of the family,--"the stately, white-haired Mrs. +Emerson, and the beautiful, faithful Ellen, whose figure seems always +to stand by the side of her august father." Then the picture of +Concord itself, lovely and smiling, with its quiet meadows, quiet +slopes, and quietest of rivers. She meets the little set of Concord +people: Mr. Alcott, for whom she does not share Mr. Emerson's +enthusiasm; and William Ellery Channing, whose figure stands out like +a gnarled and twisted scrub-oak,--a pathetic, impossible creature, +whose cranks and oddities were submitted to on account of an innate +nobility of character. "Generally crabbed and reticent with +strangers, he took a liking to me," says Emma Lazarus. "The bond +of our sympathy was my admiration for Thoreau, whose memory he +actually worships, having been his constant companion in his best +days, and his daily attendant in the last years of illness and heroic +suffering. I do not know whether I was most touched by the thought +of the unique, lofty character that had inspired this depth and +fervor of friendship, or by the pathetic constancy and pure affection +of the poor, desolate old man before me, who tried to conceal his +tenderness and sense of irremediable loss by a show of gruffness and +philosophy. He never speaks of Thoreau's death," she says, "but +always 'Thoreau's loss,' or 'when I lost Mr. Thoreau,' or 'when Mr. +Thoreau went away from Concord;' nor would he confess that he missed +him, for there was not a day, an hour, a moment, when he did not +feel that his friend was still with him and had never left him. And +yet a day or two after," she goes on to say, "when I sat with him in +the sunlit wood, looking at the gorgeous blue and silver summer sky, +he turned to me and said: 'Just half of the world died for me when I +lost Mr. Thoreau. None of it looks the same as when I looked at it +with him.'. . . He took me through the woods and pointed out to me +every spot visited and described by his friend. Where the hut stood +is a little pile of stones, and a sign, 'Site of Thoreau's Hut,' and +a few steps beyond is the pond with thickly-wooded shore,--everything +exquisitely peaceful and beautiful in the afternoon light, and not +a sound to be heard except the crickets or the 'z-ing' of the locusts +which Thoreau has described. Farther on he pointed out to me, in +the distant landscape, a low roof, the only one visible, which was +the roof of Thoreau's birthplace. He had been over there many times, +he said, since he lost Mr. Thoreau, but had never gone in,--he was +afraid it might look lonely! But he had often sat on a rock in +front of the house and looked at it." On parting from his young +friend, Mr. Channing gave her a package, which proved to be a copy +of his own book on Thoreau, and the pocket compass which Thoreau +carried to the Maine woods and on all his excursions. Before leaving +the Emersons she received the proof-sheets of her drama of "The +Spagnoletto," which was being printed for private circulation. She +showed them to Mr. Emerson, who had expressed a wish to see them, +and, after reading them, he gave them back to her with the comment +that they were "good." She playfully asked him if he would not give +her a bigger word to take home to the family. He laughed, and said +he did not know of any; but he went on to tell her that he had +taken it up, not expecting to read it through, and had not been able +to put it down. Every word and line told of richness in the poetry, +he said, and as far as he could judge the play had great dramatic +opportunities. Early in the autumn "The Spagnoletto" appeared,--a +tragedy in five acts, the scene laid in Italy, 1655. + +Without a doubt, every one in these days will take up with misgiving, +and like Mr. Emerson "not expecting to read it through," a five-act +tragedy of the seventeenth century, so far removed apparently from +the age and present actualities,--so opposed to the "Modernite," +which has come to be the last word of art. Moreover, great names at +once appear; great shades arise to rebuke the presumptuous new-comer +in this highest realm of expression. "The Spagnoletto" has grave +defects that would probably preclude its ever being represented on +the stage. The denoument especially is unfortunate, and sins against +our moral and aesthetic instinct. The wretched, tiger-like father +stabs himself in the presence of his crushed and erring daughter, so +that she may forever be haunted by the horror and the retribution of +his death. We are left suspended, as it were, over an abyss, our +moral judgment thwarted, our humanity outraged. But "The Spagnoletto" +is, nevertheless, a remarkable production, and pitched in another +key from anything the writer has yet given us. Heretofore we have +only had quiet, reflective, passive emotion: now we have a storm +and sweep of passion for which we were quite unprepared. Ribera's +character is charged like a thunder-cloud with dramatic elements. +Maria Rosa is the child of her father, fired at a flash, "deaf, dumb, +and blind" at the touch of passion. + + + "Does love steal gently o'er our soul?" + +she asks; + + + "What if he come, + A cloud, a fire, a whirlwind?" + +and then the cry: + + + "O my God! + This awful joy in mine own heart is love." + +Again: + + + "While you are here the one thing real to me + In all the universe is love." + + +Exquisitely tender and refined are the love scenes--at the ball and +in the garden--between the dashing prince-lover in search of his +pleasure and the devoted girl with her heart in her eyes, on her +lips, in her hand. Behind them, always like a tragic fate, the +somber figure of the Spagnoletto, and over all the glow and color +and soul of Italy. + +In 1881 appeared the translation of Heine's poems and ballads, which +was generally accepted as the best version of that untranslatable +poet. Very curious is the link between that bitter, mocking, cynic +spirit and the refined, gentle spirit of Emma Lazarus. Charmed by +the magic of his verse, the iridescent play of his fancy, and the +sudden cry of the heart piercing through it all, she is as yet unaware +or only vaguely conscious of the of the real bond between them: the +sympathy in the blood, the deep, tragic, Judaic passion of eighteen +hundred years that was smouldering in her own heart, soon to break +out and change the whole current of thought and feeling. + +Already, in 1879, the storm was gathering. In a distant province +of Russia at first, then on the banks of the Volga, and finally in +Moscow itself, the old cry was raised, the hideous mediaeval charge +revived, and the standard of persecution unfurled against the Jews. +Province after province took it up. In Bulgaria, Servia, and, above +all, Roumania, where, we were told, the sword of the Czar had been +drawn to protect the oppressed, Christian atrocities took the place +of Moslem atrocities, and history turned a page backward into the dark +annals of violence and crime. And not alone in despotic Russia, but +in Germany, the seat of modern philosophic thought and culture, the +rage of Anti-Semitism broke out and spread with fatal ease and potency. +In Berlin itself tumults and riots were threatened. We in America +could scarcely comprehend the situation or credit the reports, and +for a while we shut our eyes and ears to the facts; but we were soon +rudely awakened from our insensibility, and forced to face the truth. +It was in England that the voice was first raised in behalf of +justice and humanity. In January, 1881, there appeared in the +"London Times" a series of articles, carefully compiled on the +testimony of eye-witnesses, and confirmed by official documents, +records, etc., giving an account of events that had been taking place +in southern and western Russia during a period of nine months, +between April and December of 1880. We do not need to recall the +sickening details. The headings will suffice: outrage, murder, arson, +and pillage, and the result,--100,000 Jewish families made homeless +and destitute, and nearly $100,000,000 worth of property destroyed. +Nor need we recall the generous outburst of sympathy and indignation +from America. "It is not that it is the oppression of Jews by +Russia," said Mr. Evarts in the meeting at Chickering Hall Wednesday +evening, February 4; "it is that it is the oppression of men and +women, and we are men and women." So spoke civilized Christendom, +and for Judaism,-- who can describe that thrill of brotherhood, +quickened anew, the immortal pledge of the race, made one again +through sorrow? For Emma Lazarus it was a trumpet call that awoke +slumbering and unguessed echoes. All this time she had been seeking +heroic ideals in alien stock, soulless and far removed; in pagan +mythology and mystic, mediaeval Christianity, ignoring her very +birthright,--the majestic vista of the past, down which, "high above +flood and fire," had been conveyed the precious scroll of the Moral +Law. Hitherto Judaism had been a dead letter to her. Of Portuguese +descent, her family had always been members of the oldest and most +orthodox congregation of New York, where strict adherence to custom +and ceremonial was the watchword of faith; but it was only during +her childhood and earliest years that she attended the synagogue, +and conformed to the prescribed rites and usages which she had now +long since abandoned as obsolete and having no bearing on modern +life. Nor had she any great enthusiasm for her own people. As late +as April, 1882, she published in "The Century Magazine" an article +written probably some months before, entitled "Was the Earl of +Beaconsfield a Representative Jew?" in which she is disposed to +accept as the type of the modern Jew the brilliant, successful, but +not over-scrupulous chevalier d'industrie. In view of subsequent, +or rather contemporaneous events, the closing paragraph of the article +in question is worthy of being cited:-- + + + "Thus far their religion [the Jewish], whose mere preservation + under such adverse conditions seems little short of a miracle, + has been deprived of the natural means of development and + progress, and has remained a stationary force. The next + hundred years will, in our opinion be the test of their + vitality as a people; the phase of toleration upon which + they are only now entering will prove whether or not they + are capable of growth." + + +By a curious, almost fateful juxtaposition, in the same number of +the magazine appeared Madame Ragozin's defense of Russian barbarity, +and in the following (May) number Emma Lazarus's impassioned appeal +and reply, "Russian Christianity versus Modern Judaism." From +this time dated the crusade that she undertook in behalf of her race, +and the consequent expansion of all her faculties, the growth of +spiritual power which always ensues when a great cause is espoused +and a strong conviction enters the soul. Her verse rang out as it +had never rung before,--a clarion note, calling a people to heroic +action and unity, to the consciousness and fulfillment of a grand +destiny. When has Judaism been so stirred as by "The Crowing of +the Red Cock" and + + + THE BANNER OF THE JEW. + + Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day + The glorious Maccabean rage, + The sire heroic, hoary-gray, + His five-fold lion-lineage; + The Wise, the Elect, the Help-of-God, + The Burst-of-Spring, the Avenging Rod. + + + From Mizpeh's mountain ridge they saw + Jerusalem's empty streets; her shrine + Laid waste where Greeks profaned the Law + With idol and with pagan sign. + Mourners in tattered black were there + With ashes sprinkled on their hair. + + + Then from the stony peak there rang + A blast to ope the graves; down poured + The Maccabean clan, who sang + Their battle anthem to the Lord. + Five heroes lead, and following, see + Ten thousand rush to victory! + + + Oh for Jerusalem's trumpet now, + To blow a blast of shattering power, + To wake the sleeper high and low, + And rouse them to the urgent hour! + No hand for vengeance, but to save, + A million naked swords should wave. + + + Oh, deem not dead that martial fire, + Say not the mystic flame is spent! + With Moses' law and David's lyre, + Your ancient strength remains unbent. + Let but an Ezra rise anew, + To lift the BANNER OF THE JEW! + + + A rag, a mock at first,--erelong + When men have bled and women wept, + To guard its precious folds from wrong, + Even they who shrunk, even they who slept, + Shall leap to bless it and to save. + Strike! for the brave revere the brave! + + +The dead forms burst their bonds and lived again. She sings "Rosh +Hashanah" (the Jewish New Year) and "Hanuckah (the Feast of Lights):-- + + + "Kindle the taper like the steadfast star + Ablaze on Evening's forehead o'er the earth, + And add each night a lustre till afar + An eight-fold splendor shine above thy hearth. + Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre, + Blow the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn; + Chant psalms of victory till the heart take fire, + The Maccabean spirit leap new-born." + + + And "The New Ezekiel:"-- + + + "What! can these dead bones live, whose sap is dried + By twenty scorching centuries of wrong? + Is this the House of Israel whose pride + Is as a tale that's told, an ancient song? + Are these ignoble relics all that live + Of psalmist, priest, and prophet? Can the breath + Of very heaven bid these bones revive, + Open the graves, and clothe the ribs of death? + Yea, Prophesy, the Lord hath said again: + Say to the wind, come forth and breathe afresh, + Even that they may live, upon these slain, + And bone to bone shall leap, and flesh to flesh. + The spirit is not dead, proclaim the word. + Where lay dead bones a host of armed men stand! + I ope your graves, my people, saith the Lord, + And I shall place you living in your land." + + +Her whole being renewed and refreshed itself at its very source. She +threw herself into the study of her race, its language, literature, +and history. + +Breaking the outward crust, she pierced to the heart of the faith +and "the miracle" of its survival. What was it other than the ever- +present, ever-vivifying spirit itself, which cannot die,--the +religious and ethical zeal which fires the whole history of the +people, and of which she herself felt the living glow within her own +soul? She had come upon the secret and the genius of Judaism,--that +absolute interpenetration and transfusion of spirit with body and +substance which, taken literally, often reduces itself to a question +of food and drink, a dietary regulation, and again, in proper +splendor, +incarnates itself and shines out before humanity in the prophets, +teachers, and saviors of mankind. + +Those were busy, fruitful years for Emma Lazarus, who worked, not +with the pen alone, but in the field of practical and beneficent +activity. For there was an immense task to accomplish. The tide of +immigration had set in, and ship after ship came laden with hunted +human beings flying from their fellow-men, while all the time, like +a tocsin, rang the terrible story of cruelty and persecution,--horrors +that the pen refuses to dwell upon. By the hundreds and thousands +they flocked upon our shores,--helpless, innocent victims of injustice +and oppression, panic-stricken in the midst of strange and utterly +new surroundings. + +Emma Lazarus came into personal contact with these people, and +visited them in their refuge on Ward Island. While under the +influence of all the emotions aroused by this great crisis in the +history of her race, she wrote the "Dance of Death," a drama of +persecution of the twelfth century, founded upon the authentic +records,--unquestionably her finest work in grasp and scope, and, +above all, in moral elevation and purport. The scene is laid in +Nordhausen, a free city in Thuringia, where the Jews, living, as the +deemed, in absolute security and peace, were caught up in the wave of +persecution that swept over Europe at that time. Accused of poisoning +the wells and causing the pestilence, or black death, as it was called, +they were condemned to be burned. + +We do not here intend to enter upon a critical or literary analysis +of the play, or to point out dramatic merits or defects, but we +should like to make its readers feel with us the holy ardor and +impulse of the writer and the spiritual import of the work. The +action is without surprise, the doom fixed from the first; but so +glowing is the canvas with local and historic color, so vital and +intense the movement, so resistless, the "internal evidence," if we +may call it thus, penetrating its very substance and form, that we are +swept along as by a wave of human sympathy and grief. In contrast +with "The Spagnoletto," how large is the theme and how all-embracing +the catastrophe! In place of the personal we have the drama of +the universal. Love is only a flash now,--a dream caught sight of +and at once renounced at a higher claim. + + + "Have you no smile to welcome love with, Liebhaid? + Why should you tremble? + Prince, I am afraid! + Afraid of my own heart, my unfathomed joy, + A blasphemy against my father's grief, + My people's agony! + + + "What good shall come, forswearing kith and God, + To follow the allurements of the heart?" + + +asks the distracted maiden, torn between her love for he princely +wooer and her devotion to the people among whom her lot has been cast. + + + "O God! + How shall I pray for strength to love him less + Than mine own soul! + No more of that, + I am all Israel's now. Till this cloud pass, + I have no thought, no passion, no desire, + Save for my people." + + +Individuals perish, but great ideas survive,--fortitude and courage, +and that exalted loyalty and devotion to principle which alone are +worth living and dying for. + +The Jews pass by in procession--men, women, and children--on their +way to the flames, to the sound of music, and in festal array, +carrying +the gold and silver vessels, the roll of the law, the perpetual lamp +and the seven branched silver candle-stick of the synagogue. The +crowd hoot and jeer at them. + + + "The misers! they will take their gems and gold + Down to the grave!" + + + "Let us rejoice" + + +sing the Jewish youths in chorus; and the maidens:-- + + + "Our feet stand within thy gates, O Zion! + Within thy portals, O Jerusalem!" + + +The flames rise and dart among them; their garments wave, their jewels +flash, as they dance and sing in the crimson blaze. The music ceases, +a sound of crashing boards is heard and a great cry,--"Hallelujah!" +What a glory and consecration of the martyrdom! Where shall we find a +more triumphant vindication and supreme victory of spirit over matter? + + + "I see, I see, + How Israel's ever-crescent glory makes + These flames that would eclipse it dark as blots + Of candle-light against the blazing sun. + We die a thousand deaths,--drown, bleed, and burn. + Our ashes are dispersed unto the winds. + Yet the wild winds cherish the sacred seed, + The fire refuseth to consume. + + . . . . . . . . . + + Even as we die in honor, from our death + Shall bloom a myriad heroic lives, + Brave through our bright example, virtuous + Lest our great memory fall in disrepute." + + +The "Dance to Death" was published, along with other poems and +translations from the Hebrew poets of mediaeval Spain, in a small +column entitled "Songs of a Semite." The tragedy was dedicated, "In +profound veneration and respect to the memory of George Eliot, the +illustrious writer who did most among the artists of our day towards +elevating and ennobling the spirit of Jewish nationality." + +For this was the idea that had caught the imagination of Emma Lazarus, +--a restored and independent nationality and repatriation in Palestine. +In her article in "The Century" of February, 1883, on the "Jewish +Problem," she says:-- + + + "I am fully persuaded that all suggested solutions other + than this are but temporary palliatives. . . . The idea + formulated by George Eliot has already sunk into the minds + of many Jewish enthusiasts, and it germinates with miraculous + rapidity. 'The idea that I am possessed with,' says Deronda, + 'is that of restoring a political existence to my people; + making them a nation again, giving them a national centre, + such as the English have, though they, too, are scattered + over the face of the globe. That task which presents itself + to me as a duty. . . . I am resolved to devote my life to + it. AT THE LEAST, I MAY AWAKEN A MOVEMENT IN OTHER MINDS + SUCH HAS BEEN AWAKENED IN MY OWN.' Could the noble + prophetess who wrote the above words have lived but till to- + day to see the ever-increasing necessity of adopting her + inspired counsel, . . .she would have been herself astonished + at the flame enkindled by her seed of fire, and the practical + shape which the movement projected by her poetic vision is + beginning to assume." + + +In November of 1882 appeared her first "Epistle to the Hebrews,"-- +one of a series of articles written for the "American Hebrew," +published weekly through several months. Addressing herself now +to a Jewish audience, she sets forth without reserve her views and +hopes for Judaism, now passionately holding up the mirror for the +shortcomings and peculiarities of her race. She says:-- + + + "Every student of the Hebrew language is aware that we have + in the conjugation of our verbs a mode known as the 'intensive + voice,' which, by means of an almost imperceptible modification + of vowel-points, intensifies the meaning of the primitive root. + A similar significance seems to attach to the Jews themselves + in connection with the people among whom they dwell. They are + the 'intensive form' of any nationality whose language and + customs they adopt. . . . Influenced by the same causes, they + represent the same results; but the deeper lights and shadows + of the Oriental temperament throw their failings, as well as + their virtues, into more prominent relief." + + +In drawing the epistles to a close, February 24, 1883, she thus +summarizes the special objects she has had in view:-- + + + "My chief aim has been to contribute my mite towards arousing + that spirit of Jewish enthusiasm which might manifest itself: + First, in a return to varied pursuits and broad system of + physical and intellectual education adopted by our ancestors; + Second, in a more fraternal and practical movement towards + alleviating the sufferings of oppressed Jews in countries less + favored than our own; Third, in a closer and wider study of + Hebrew literature and history and finally, in a truer recognition + of the large principals of religion, liberty, and law upon + which Judaism is founded, and which should draw into harmonious + unity Jews of every shade of opinion." + + +Her interest in Jewish affairs was at its height when she planned a +visit abroad, which had been a long-cherished dream, and May 15, 1883, +she sailed for England, accompanied by a younger sister. We have +difficulty in recognizing the tragic priestess we have been portraying +in the enthusiastic child of travel who seems new-born into a new +world. From the very outset she is in a maze of wonder and delight. +At sea she writes:-- + + + "Our last day on board ship was a vision of beauty from + morning till night,--the sea like a mirror and the sky + dazzling with light. In the afternoon we passed a ship + in full sail, near enough to exchange salutes and cheers. + After tossing about for six days without seeing a human + being, except those on our vessel, even this was a sensation. + Then an hour or two before sunset came the great sensation + of--land! At first, nothing but a shadow on the far horizon, + like the ghost of a ship; two or three widely scattered rocks + which were the promontories of Ireland, and sooner than we + expected we were steaming along low-lying purple hills." + + +The journey to Chester gives her "the first glimpse of mellow +England,"--a surprise which is yet no surprise, so well known and +familiar does it appear. Then Chester, with its quaint, picturesque +streets, "like the scene of a Walter Scott novel, the cathedral +planted in greenness, and the clear, gray river where a boatful of +scarlet dragoons goes gliding by." Everything is a picture for her +special benefit. She "drinks in, at every sense, the sights, sounds, +and smells, and the unimaginable beauty of it all." Then the +bewilderment of London, and a whirl of people, sights, and +impressions. +She was received with great distinction by the Jews, and many of the +leading men among them warmly advocated her views. But it was not +alone from her own people that she met with exceptional consideration. +She had the privilege of seeing many of the most eminent personages +of the day, all of whom honored her with special and personal regard. +There was, no doubt, something that strongly attracted people to her +at this time,--the force of her intellect at once made itself felt, +while at the same time the unaltered simplicity and modesty of her +character, and her readiness and freshness of enthusiasm, kept her +still almost like a child. + +She makes a flying visit to Paris, where she happens to be on the 14th +of July, the anniversary of the storming of the Bastile, and of the +beginning of the republic; she drives to Versailles, "that gorgeous +shell of royalty, where the crowd who celebrate the birth of the +republic wander freely through the halls and avenues, and into the +most sacred rooms of the king. . . . There are ruins on every side in +Paris," she says; "ruins of the Commune, or the Siege, or the +Revolution; it is terrible--it seems as if the city were seared with +fire and blood." + +Such was Paris to her then, and she hastens back to her beloved London, +starting from there on the tour through England that has been mapped +out for her. "A Day in Surrey with William Morris," published in +"The Century Magazine," describes her visit to Merton Abbey, the +old Norman monastery, converted into a model factory by the poet- +humanitarian, who himself received her as his guest, conducted her +all over the picturesque building and garden, and explained to her +his views of art and his aims for the people. + +She drives through Kent, "where the fields, valleys, and slopes are +garlanded with hops and ablaze with scarlet poppies." Then Canterbury, +Windsor, and Oxford, Stratford, Warwick, the valley of the Wye, Wells, +Exeter, and Salisbury,--cathedral after cathedral. Back to London, +and then north through York, Durham, and Edinburgh, and on the 15th +of September she sails for home. We have merely named the names, +for it is impossible to convey an idea of the delight and importance +of this trip, "a crescendo of enjoyment," as she herself calls it. +Long after, in strange, dark hours of suffering, these pictures of +travel arose before her, vivid and tragic even in their hold and +spell upon her. + +The winter of 1883-84 was not especially productive. She wrote a +few reminiscences of her journey and occasional poems on the Jewish +themes, which appeared in the "American Hebrew;" but for the most +part gave herself up to quiet retrospect and enjoyment with her +friends of the life she had had a glimpse of, and the experience she +had stored,--a restful, happy period. In August of the same year +she was stricken with a severe and dangerous malady, from which she +slowly recovered, only to go through a terrible ordeal and affliction. +Her father's health, which had long been failing, now broke down +completely, and the whole winter was one long strain of acute anxiety, +which culminated in his death, in March, 1885. The blow was a +crushing one for Emma. Truly, the silver cord was loosed, and the +golden bowl broken. Life lost its meaning and charm. Her father's +sympathy and pride in her work had been her chief incentive and +ambition, and had spurred her on when her own confidence and spirit +failed. Never afterwards did she find complete and spontaneous +expression. She decided to go abroad as the best means of regaining +composure and strength and sailed once more in May for England, +where she was welcomed now by the friends she had made, almost as +to another home. She spent the summer very quietly at Richmond, an +ideally beautiful spot in Yorkshire, where she soon felt the +beneficial influence of her peaceful surroundings. "The very air +seems to rest one here," she writes; and inspired by the romantic +loveliness of the place, she even composed the first few chapters +of a novel, begun with a good deal of dash and vigor, but soon +abandoned, for she was still struggling with depression and gloom. + +"I have neither ability, energy, nor purpose," she writes. "It is +impossible to do anything, so I am forced to set it aside for the +present; whether to take it up again or not in the future remains +to be seen." + +In the autumn she goes on the Continent, visiting the Hague, which +"completely fascinates" her, and where she feels "stronger and more +cheerful" than she has "for many a day." Then Paris, which this time +amazes her "with its splendor and magnificence. All the ghosts of +the Revolution are somehow laid," she writes, and she spends six +weeks here enjoying to the full the gorgeous autumn weather, the +sights, the picture galleries, the bookshops, the whole brilliant +panorama of the life; and early in December she starts for Italy. + +And now once more we come upon that keen zest of enjoyment, that +pure desire and delight of the eyes, which are the prerogative of +the poet,--Emma Lazarus was a poet. The beauty of the world,--what +a rapture and intoxication it is, and how it bursts upon her in the +very land of beauty, "where Dante and Petrarch trod!" A magic glow +colours it all; no mere blues and greens anymore, but a splendor of +purple and scarlet and emerald; "each tower, castle, and village +shining like a jewel; the olive, the fig, and at your feet the roses, +growing in mid-December." A day in Pisa seems like a week, so crowded +is it with sensations and unforgettable pictures. Then a month in +Florence, which is still more entrancing with its inexhaustible +treasures of beauty and art; and finally Rome, the climax of it all,-- + + + "wiping out all other places and impressions, and opening + a whole new world of sensations. I am wild with the + excitement of this tremendous place. I have been here a + week, and have seen the Vatican and the Capitoline Museums, + and the Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter's, besides the ruins + on the streets and on the hills, and the graves of Shelley + and Keats. + + "It is all heart-breaking. I don't only mean those beautiful + graves, overgrown with acanthus and violets, but the mutilated + arches and columns and dumb appealing fragments looming up in + the glowing sunshine under the Roman blue sky." + + +True to her old attractions, it is pagan Rome that appeals to her +most strongly,-- + + + "and the far-away past, that seems so sad and strange and + near. I am even out of humor with pictures; a bit of broken + stone or a fragment of a bas-relief, or a Corinthian column + standing out against this lapis-lazuli sky, or a tremendous + arch, are the only things I can look at for the moment,-- + except the Sistine Chapel, which is as gigantic as the rest, + and forces itself upon you with equal might." + + +Already, in February, spring is in the air; "the almond-trees are in +bloom, violets cover the grass, and oh! the divine, the celestial, +the unheard-of beauty of it all!" It is almost a pang for her, "with +its strange mixture of longing and regret and delight," and in the +midst of it she says, "I have to exert all my strength not to lose +myself in morbidness and depression." + +Early in March she leaves Rome, consoled with the thought of returning +the following winter. In June she was in England again, and spent +the summer at Malvern. Disease was no doubt already beginning to +prey upon her, for she was oppressed at times by a languor and +heaviness amounting almost to lethargy. When she returned to London, +however, in September, she felt quite well again, and started for +another tour in Holland, which she enjoyed as much as before. She +then settled in Paris, to await the time when she could return to +Italy. But she was attacked at once with grave and alarming symptoms, +that betokened a fatal end to her malady. Entirely ignorant, however, +of the danger that threatened her, she kept up courage and hope, +made plans for the journey, and looked forward to setting out at +any moment. But the weeks passed and the months also; slowly and +gradually the hope faded. The journey to Italy must be given up; +she was not in condition to be brought home, and she reluctantly +resigned herself to remain where she was and "convalesce," as she +confidently believed, in the spring. Once again came the analogy, +which she herself pointed out now, to Heine on his mattress-grave +in Paris. She, too, the last time she went out, dragged herself to +the Louvre, to the feet of the Venus, "the goddess without arms, who +could not help." Only her indomitable will and intense desire to +live seemed to keep her alive. She sunk to a very low ebb, but, as +she herself expressed it, she "seemed to have always one little +window looking out into life," and in the spring she rallied +sufficiently to take a few drives and to sit on the balcony of her +apartment. She came back to life with a feverish sort of thirst and +avidity. "No such cure for pessimism," she says, "as a severe +illness; the simplest pleasures are enough,--to breathe the air and +see the sun." + +Many plans were made for leaving Paris, but it was finally decided +to risk the ocean voyage and bring her home, and accordingly she +sailed July 23rd, arriving in New York on the last day of that month. + +She did not rally after this; and now began her long agony, full +of every kind of suffering, mental and physical. Only her intellect +seemed kindled anew, and none but those who saw her during the last +supreme ordeal can realize that wonderful flash and fire of the +spirit before its extinction. Never did she appear so brilliant. +Wasted to a shadow, and between acute attacks of pain, she talked +about art, poetry, the scenes of travel, of which her brain was so +full, and the phases of her own condition, with an eloquence for +which even those who knew her best were quite unprepared. Every +faculty seemed sharpened and every sense quickened as the "strong +deliveress" approached, and the ardent soul was released from the +frame that could no longer contain it. + +We cannot restrain a feeling of suddenness and incompleteness and +a natural pang of wonder and regret for a life so richly and so +vitally endowed thus cut off in its prime. But for us it is not +fitting to question or repine, but rather to rejoice in the rare +possession that we hold. What is any life, even the most rounded +and complete, but a fragment and a hint? What Emma Lazarus might +have accomplished, had she been spared, it is idle and even +ungrateful to speculate. What she did accomplish has real and +peculiar significance. It is the privilege of a favored few that +every fact and circumstance of their individuality shall add lustre +and value to what they achieve. To be born a Jewess was a distinction +for Emma Lazarus, and she in turn conferred distinction upon her +race. To be born a woman also lends a grace and a subtle magnetism +to her influence. Nowhere is there contradiction or incongruity. +Her works bear the imprint of her character, and her character of +her works; the same directness and honesty, the same limpid purity +of tone, and the same atmosphere of things refined and beautiful. +The vulgar, the false, and the ignoble,--she scarcely comprehended +them, while on every side she was open and ready to take in and +respond to whatever can adorn and enrich life. Literature was no +mere "profession" for her, which shut out other possibilities; it +was only a free, wide horizon and background for culture. She was +passionately devoted to music, which inspired some of her best poems; +and during the last years of her life, in hours of intense physical +suffering, she found relief and consolation in listening to the +strains of Bach and Beethoven. When she went abroad, painting was +revealed to her, and she threw herself with the same ardor and +enthusiasm into the study of the great masters; her last work (left +unfinished) was a critical analysis of the genius and personality +of Rembrandt. + +And now, at the end, we ask, Has the grave really closed over all +these gifts? Has that eager, passionate striving ceased, and "is +the rest silence?" + +Who knows? But would we break, if we could, that repose, that +silence and mystery and peace everlasting? + + + + + + + THE NEW YEAR. + + ROSH-HASHANAH, 5643. + + +Not while the snow-shroud round dead earth is rolled, + And naked branches point to frozen skies,-- +When orchards burn their lamps of fiery gold, + The grape glows like a jewel, and the corn +A sea of beauty and abundance lies, + Then the new year is born. + + +Look where the mother of the months uplifts + In the green clearness of the unsunned West, +Her ivory horn of plenty, dropping gifts, + Cool, harvest-feeding dews, fine-winnowed light; +Tired labor with fruition, joy and rest + Profusely to requite. + + +Blow, Israel, the sacred cornet! Call + Back to thy courts whatever faint heart throb +With thine ancestral blood, thy need craves all. + The red, dark year is dead, the year just born +Leads on from anguish wrought by priest and mob, + To what undreamed-of morn? + + +For never yet, since on the holy height, + The Temple's marble walls of white and green +Carved like the sea-waves, fell, and the world's light + Went out in darkness,--never was the year +Greater with portent and with promise seen, + Than this eve now and here. + + +Even as the Prophet promised, so your tent + Hath been enlarged unto earth's farthest rim. +To snow-capped Sierras from vast steppes ye went, + Through fire and blood and tempest-tossing wave, +For freedom to proclaim and worship Him, + Mighty to slay and save. + + +High above flood and fire ye held the scroll, + Out of the depths ye published still the Word. +No bodily pang had power to swerve your soul: + Ye, in a cynic age of crumbling faiths, +Lived to bear witness to the living Lord, + Or died a thousand deaths. + + +In two divided streams the exiles part, + One rolling homeward to its ancient source, +One rushing sunward with fresh will, new heart. + By each the truth is spread, the law unfurled, +Each separate soul contains the nation's force, + And both embrace the world. + + +Kindle the silver candle's seven rays, + Offer the first fruits of the clustered bowers, +The garnered spoil of bees. With prayer and praise + Rejoice that once more tried, once more we prove +How strength of supreme suffering still is ours + For Truth and Law and Love. + + + + + + + THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK. + + +Across the Eastern sky has glowed + The flicker of a blood-red dawn, +Once more the clarion cock has crowed, + Once more the sword of Christ is drawn. +A million burning rooftrees light +The world-wide path of Israel's flight. + + +Where is the Hebrew's fatherland? + The folk of Christ is sore bestead; +The Son of Man is bruised and banned, + Nor finds whereon to lay his head. +His cup is gall, his meat is tears, +His passion lasts a thousand years. + + +Each crime that wakes in man the beast, + Is visited upon his kind. +The lust of mobs, the greed of priest, + The tyranny of kings, combined +To root his seed from earth again, +His record is one cry of pain. + + +When the long roll of Christian guilt + Against his sires and kin is known, +The flood of tears, the life-blood spilt + The agony of ages shown, +What oceans can the stain remove, +From Christian law and Christian love? + + +Nay, close the book; not now, not here, + The hideous tale of sin narrate, +Reechoing in the martyr's ear, + Even he might nurse revengeful hate, +Even he might turn in wrath sublime, +With blood for blood and crime for crime. + + +Coward? Not he, who faces death, + Who singly against worlds has fought, +For what? A name he may not breathe, + For liberty of prayer and thought. +The angry sword he will not whet, +His nobler task is--to forget. + + + + + + + IN EXILE. + + + "Since that day till now our life is one unbroken paradise. We + live a true brotherly life. Every evening after supper we take + a seat under the mighty oak and sing our songs."--Extract from + a letter of a Russian refugee in Texas. + + +Twilight is here, soft breezes bow the grass, + Day's sounds of various toil break slowly off, +The yoke-freed oxen low, the patient ass + Dips his dry nostril in the cool, deep trough. +Up from the prairie the tanned herdsmen pass + With frothy pails, guiding with voices rough +Their udder-lightened kine. Fresh smells of earth, +The rich, black furrows of the glebe send forth. + + +After the Southern day of heavy toil, + How good to lie, with limbs relaxed, brows bare +To evening's fan, and watch the smoke-wreaths coil + Up from one's pipe-stem through the rayless air. +So deem these unused tillers of the soil, + Who stretched beneath the shadowing oak tree, stare +Peacefully on the star-unfolding skies, +And name their life unbroken paradise. + + +The hounded stag that has escaped the pack, + And pants at ease within a thick-leaved dell; +The unimprisoned bird that finds the track + Through sun-bathed space, to where his fellows dwell; +The martyr, granted respite from the rack, + The death-doomed victim pardoned from his cell,-- +Such only know the joy these exiles gain,-- +Life's sharpest rapture is surcease of pain. + + +Strange faces theirs, wherethrough the Orient sun + Gleams from the eyes and glows athwart the skin. +Grave lines of studious thought and purpose run + From curl-crowned forehead to dark-bearded chin. +And over all the seal is stamped thereon + Of anguish branded by a world of sin, +In fire and blood through ages on their name, +Their seal of glory and the Gentiles' shame. + + +Freedom to love the law that Moses brought, + To sing the songs of David, and to think +The thoughts Gabirol to Spinoza taught, + Freedom to dig the common earth, to drink +The universal air--for this they sought + Refuge o'er wave and continent, to link +Egypt with Texas in their mystic chain, +And truth's perpetual lamp forbid to wane. + + +Hark! through the quiet evening air, their song + Floats forth with wild sweet rhythm and glad refrain. +They sing the conquest of the spirit strong, + The soul that wrests the victory from pain; +The noble joys of manhood that belong + To comrades and to brothers. In their strain +Rustle of palms and Eastern streams one hears, +And the broad prairie melts in mist of tears. + + + + + + + IN MEMORIAM--REV. J. J. LYONS. + + ROSH-HASHANAH, 5638. + + +The golden harvest-tide is here, the corn +Bows its proud tops beneath the reaper's hand. +Ripe orchards' plenteous yields enrich the land; +Bring the first fruits and offer them this morn, +With the stored sweetness of all summer hours, +The amber honey sucked from myriad flowers, +And sacrifice your best first fruits to-day, +With fainting hearts and hands forespent with toil, +Offer the mellow harvest's splendid spoil, +To Him who gives and Him who takes away. + + +Bring timbrels, bring the harp of sweet accord, +And in a pleasant psalm your voice attune, +And blow the cornet greeting the new moon. +Sing, holy, holy, holy, is the Lord, +Who killeth and who quickeneth again, +Who woundeth and who healeth mortal pain, +Whose hand afflicts us, and who sends us peace. +Hail thou slim arc of promise in the West, +Thou pledge of certain plenty, peace, and rest. +With the spent year, may the year's sorrows cease. + + +For there is mourning now in Israel, +The crown, the garland of the branching tree +Is plucked and withered. Ripe of years was he. +The priest, the good old man who wrought so well +Upon his chosen globe. For he was one +Who at his seed-plot toiled through rain and sun. +Morn found him not as one who slumbereth, +Noon saw him faithful, and the restful night +Stole o'er him at his labors to requite +The just man's service with the just man's death. + + +What shall be said when such as he do pass? +Go to the hill-side, neath the cypress-trees, +Fall midst that peopled silence on your knees, +And weep that man must wither as the grass. +But mourn him not, whose blameless life complete +Rounded its perfect orb, whose sleep is sweet, +Whom we must follow, but may not recall. +Salute with solemn trumpets the New Year, +And offer honeyed fruits as were he here, +Though ye be sick with wormwood and with gall. + + + + + + + THE VALLEY OF BACA. + + PSALM LXXXIV. + + +A brackish lake is there with bitter pools + Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees. +A piping wind the narrow valley cools, + Fretting the willows and the cypresses. +Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space +An awful presence hath its dwelling-place. + + +I saw a youth pass down that vale of tears; + His head was circled with a crown of thorn, +His form was bowed as by the weight of years, + His wayworn feet by stones were cut and torn. +His eyes were such as have beheld the sword +Of terror of the angel of the Lord. + + +He passed, and clouds and shadows and thick haze + Fell and encompassed him. I might not see +What hand upheld him in those dismal ways, + Wherethrough he staggered with his misery. +The creeping mists that trooped and spread around, +The smitten head and writhing form enwound. + + +Then slow and gradual but sure they rose, + Those clinging vapors blotting out the sky. +The youth had fallen not, his viewless foes + Discomfited, had left the victory +Unto the heart that fainted not nor failed, +But from the hill-tops its salvation hailed. + + +I looked at him in dread lest I should see, + The anguish of the struggle in his eyes; +And lo, great peace was there! Triumphantly + The sunshine crowned him from the sacred skies. +"From strength to strength he goes," he leaves beneath +The valley of the shadow and of death. + + +"Thrice blest who passing through that vale of Tears, + Makes it a well,"--and draws life-nourishment +From those death-bitter drops. No grief, no fears + Assail him further, he may scorn the event. +For naught hath power to swerve the steadfast soul +Within that valley broken and made whole. + + + + + + + THE BANNER OF THE JEW. + + +Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day + The glorious Maccabean rage, +The sire heroic, hoary-gray, + His five-fold lion-lineage: +The Wise, the Elect, the Help-of-God, +The Burst-of-Spring, the Avenging Rod.* + + +From Mizpeh's mountain-ridge they saw + Jerusalem's empty streets, her shrine +Laid waste where Greeks profaned the Law, + With idol and with pagan sign. +Mourners in tattered black were there, +With ashes sprinkled on their hair. + + +Then from the stony peak there rang + A blast to ope the graves: down poured +The Maccabean clan, who sang + Their battle-anthem to the Lord. +Five heroes lead, and following, see, +Ten thousand rush to victory! + + +Oh for Jerusalem's trumpet now, + To blow a blast of shattering power, +To wake the sleepers high and low, + And rouse them to the urgent hour! +No hand for vengeance--but to save, +A million naked swords should wave. + + +Oh deem not dead that martial fire, + Say not the mystic flame is spent! +With Moses' law and David's lyre, + Your ancient strength remains unbent. +Let but an Ezra rise anew, +To lift the BANNER OF THE JEW! + + +A rag, a mock at first--erelong, + When men have bled and women wept, +To guard its precious folds from wrong, + Even they who shrunk, even they who slept, +Shall leap to bless it, and to save. +Strike! for the brave revere the brave! + + *The sons of Mattathias--Jonanthan, John, Eleazer, + Simon (also called the Jewel), and Jonas, the Prince + + + + + + + THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK. + + Spoken by a Citizen of Malta--1300. + + +A curious title held in high repute, +One among many honors, thickly strewn +On my lord Bishop's head, his grace of Malta. +Nobly he bears them all,--with tact, skill, zeal, +Fulfills each special office, vast or slight, +Nor slurs the least minutia,--therewithal +Wears such a stately aspect of command, +Broad-checked, broad-chested, reverend, sanctified, +Haloed with white about the tonsure's rim, +With dropped lids o'er the piercing Spanish eyes +(Lynx-keen, I warrant, to spy out heresy); +Tall, massive form, o'ertowering all in presence, +Or ere they kneel to kiss the large white hand. +His looks sustain his deeds,--the perfect prelate, +Whose void chair shall be taken, but not filled. +You know not, who are foreign to the isle, +Haply, what this Red Disk may be, he guards. +'T is the bright blotch, big as the Royal seal, +Branded beneath the beard of every Jew. +These vermin so infest the isle, so slide +Into all byways, highways that may lead +Direct or roundabout to wealth or power, +Some plain, plump mark was needed, to protect +From the degrading contact Christian folk. + + +The evil had grown monstrous: certain Jews +Wore such a haughty air, had so refined, +With super-subtile arts, strict, monkish lives, +And studious habit, the coarse Hebrew type, +One might have elbowed in the public mart +Iscariot,--nor suspected one's soul-peril. +Christ's blood! it sets my flesh a-creep to think! +We may breathe freely now, not fearing taint, +Praise be our good Lord Bishop! He keeps count +Of every Jew, and prints on cheek or chin +The scarlet stamp of separateness, of shame. + + +No beard, blue-black, grizzled or Judas-colored, +May hide that damning little wafer-flame. +When one appears therewith, the urchins know +Good sport's at hand; they fling their stones and mud, +Sure of their game. But most the wisdom shows +Upon the unbelievers' selves; they learn +Their proper rank; crouch, cringe, and hide,--lay by +Their insolence of self-esteem; no more +Flaunt forth in rich attire, but in dull weeds, +Slovenly donned, would slink past unobserved; +Bow servile necks and crook obsequious knees, +Chin sunk in hollow chest, eyes fixed on earth +Or blinking sidewise, but to apprehend +Whether or not the hated spot be spied. +I warrant my Lord Bishop has full hands, +Guarding the Red Disk--lest one rogue escape! + + + + + + + THE NEW EZEKIEL. + + +What, can these dead bones live, whose sap is dried + By twenty scorching centuries of wrong? +Is this the House of Israel, whose pride + Is as a tale that's told, an ancient song? +Are these ignoble relics all that live + Of psalmist, priest, and prophet? Can the breath +Of very heaven bid these Bones revive, + Open the graves and clothe the ribs of death? + + +Yea, Prophesy, the Lord hath said. Again + Say to the wind, Come forth and breathe afresh, +Even that they may live upon these slain, + And bone to bone shall leap, and flesh to flesh. +The Spirit is not dead, proclaim the word, + Where lay dead bones, a host of armed men stand! +I ope your graves, my people, saith the Lord, + And I shall place you living in your land. + + + + + + + THE CHOICE. + + +I saw in dream the spirits unbegot, +Veiled, floating phantoms, lost in twilight space; +For one the hour had struck, he paused; the place +Rang with an awful Voice: + "Soul, choose thy lot! +Two paths are offered; that, in velvet-flower, +Slopes easily to every earthly prize. +Follow the multitude and bind thine eyes, +Thou and thy sons' sons shall have peace with power. +This narrow track skirts the abysmal verge, +Here shalt thou stumble, totter, weep and bleed, +All men shall hate and hound thee and thy seed, +Thy portion be the wound, the stripe, the scourge. +But in thy hand I place my lamp for light, +Thy blood shall be the witness of my Law, +Choose now for all the ages!" + Then I saw +The unveiled spirit, grown divinely bright, +Choose the grim path. He turned, I knew full well +The pale, great martyr-forehead shadowy-curled, +The glowing eyes that had renounced the world, +Disgraced, despised, immortal Israel. + + + + + + + THE WORLD'S JUSTICE. + + +If the sudden tidings came + That on some far, foreign coast, +Buried ages long from fame, + Had been found a remnant lost +Of that hoary race who dwelt + By the golden Nile divine, +Spake the Pharaoh's tongue and knelt + At the moon-crowned Isis' shrine-- +How at reverend Egypt's feet, +Pilgrims from all lands would meet! + + +If the sudden news were known, + That anigh the desert-place +Where once blossomed Babylon, + Scions of a mighty race +Still survived, of giant build, + Huntsmen, warriors, priest and sage, +Whose ancestral fame had filled, + Trumpet-tongued, the earlier age, +How at old Assyria's feet +Pilgrims from all lands would meet! + + +Yet when Egypt's self was young, + And Assyria's bloom unworn, +Ere the mythic Homer sung, + Ere the gods of Greece were born, +Lived the nation of one God, + Priests of freedom, sons of Shem, +Never quelled by yoke or rod, + Founders of Jerusalem-- +Is there one abides to-day, +Seeker of dead cities, say! + + +Answer, now as then, THEY ARE; + Scattered broadcast o'er the lands, +Knit in spirit nigh and far, + With indissoluble bands. +Half the world adores their God, + They the living law proclaim, +And their guerdon is--the rod, + Stripes and scourgings, death and shame. +Still on Israel's head forlorn, +Every nation heaps its scorn. + + + + + + + THE SUPREME SACRIFICE. + + +Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel + Suffered the scorn of man for love of God; + Endured the outlaw's ban, the yoke, the rod, +With perfect patience. Empires rose and fell, + Around him Nebo was adored and Bel; +Edom was drunk with victory, and trod +On his high places, while the sacred sod + Was desecrated by the infidel. +His faith proved steadfast, without breach or flaw, + But now the last renouncement is required. +His truth prevails, his God is God, his Law + Is found the wisdom most to be desired. +Not his the glory! He, maligned, misknown, +Bows his meek head, and says, "Thy will be done!" + + + + + + + THE FEAST OF LIGHTS. + + +Kindle the taper like the steadfast star + Ablaze on evening's forehead o'er the earth, +And add each night a lustre till afar + An eightfold splendor shine above thy hearth. +Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre, + Blow the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn; +Chant psalms of victory till the heart takes fire, + The Maccabean spirit leap new-born. + + +Remember how from wintry dawn till night, + Such songs were sung in Zion, when again +On the high altar flamed the sacred light, + And, purified from every Syrian stain, +The foam-white walls with golden shields were hung, + With crowns and silken spoils, and at the shrine, +Stood, midst their conqueror-tribe, five chieftains sprung + From one heroic stock, one seed divine. + + +Five branches grown from Mattathias' stem, + The Blessed John, the Keen-Eyed Jonathan, +Simon the fair, the Burst-of Spring, the Gem, + Eleazar, Help of-God; o'er all his clan +Judas the Lion-Prince, the Avenging Rod, + Towered in warrior-beauty, uncrowned king, +Armed with the breastplate and the sword of God, + Whose praise is: "He received the perishing." + + +They who had camped within the mountain-pass, + Couched on the rock, and tented neath the sky, +Who saw from Mizpah's heights the tangled grass + Choke the wide Temple-courts, the altar lie +Disfigured and polluted--who had flung + Their faces on the stones, and mourned aloud +And rent their garments, wailing with one tongue, + Crushed as a wind-swept bed of reeds is bowed, + + +Even they by one voice fired, one heart of flame, + Though broken reeds, had risen, and were men, +They rushed upon the spoiler and o'ercame, + Each arm for freedom had the strength of ten. +Now is their mourning into dancing turned, + Their sackcloth doffed for garments of delight, +Week-long the festive torches shall be burned, + Music and revelry wed day with night. + + +Still ours the dance, the feast, the glorious Psalm, + The mystic lights of emblem, and the Word. +Where is our Judas? Where our five-branched palm? + Where are the lion-warriors of the Lord? +Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre, + Sound the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn, +Chant hymns of victory till the heart take fire, + The Maccabean spirit leap new-born! + + + + + + + GIFTS. + + +"O World-God, give me Wealth!" the Egyptian cried. +His prayer was granted. High as heaven, behold +Palace and Pyramid; the brimming tide +Of lavish Nile washed all his land with gold. +Armies of slaves toiled ant-wise at his feet, +World-circling traffic roared through mart and street, +His priests were gods, his spice-balmed kings enshrined, +Set death at naught in rock-ribbed charnels deep. +Seek Pharaoh's race to-day and ye shall find +Rust and the moth, silence and dusty sleep. + + +"O World-God, give me beauty!" cried the Greek. +His prayer was granted. All the earth became +Plastic and vocal to his sense; each peak, +Each grove, each stream, quick with Promethean flame, +Peopled the world with imaged grace and light. +The lyre was his, and his the breathing might +Of the immortal marble, his the play +Of diamond-pointed thought and golden tongue. +Go seek the sun-shine race, ye find to-day +A broken column and a lute unstrung. + + +"O World-God, give me Power!" the Roman cried. +His prayer was granted. The vast world was chained +A captive to the chariot of his pride. +The blood of myriad provinces was drained +To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart. +Invulnerably bulwarked every part +With serried legions and with close-meshed Code, +Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed its home, +A roofless ruin stands where once abode +The imperial race of everlasting Rome. + + +"O Godhead, give me Truth!" the Hebrew cried. +His prayer was granted; he became the slave +Of the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide, +Cursed, hated, spurned, and scourged with none to save. +The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece beheld, +His wisdom wore the hoary crown of Eld. +Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth and power. +Seek him to-day, and find in every land. +No fire consumes him, neither floods devour; +Immortal through the lamp within his hand. + + + + + + + BAR KOCHBA. + + +Weep, Israel! your tardy meed outpour + Of grateful homage on his fallen head, +That never coronal of triumph wore, + Untombed, dishonored, and unchapleted. +If Victory makes the hero, raw Success + The stamp of virtue, unremembered +Be then the desperate strife, the storm and stress + Of the last Warrior Jew. But if the man +Who dies for freedom, loving all things less, + Against world-legions, mustering his poor clan; +The weak, the wronged, the miserable, to send + Their death-cry's protest through the ages' span-- +If such an one be worthy, ye shall lend + Eternal thanks to him, eternal praise. +Nobler the conquered than the conqueror's end! + + + + + + + 1492. + + +Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate, +Didst weep when Spain cast forth with flaming sword, +The children of the prophets of the Lord, +Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate. +Hounded from sea to sea, from state to state, +The West refused them, and the East abhorred. +No anchorage the known world could afford, +Close-locked was every port, barred every gate. +Then smiling, thou unveil'dst, O two-faced year, +A virgin world where doors of sunset part, +Saying, "Ho, all who weary, enter here! +There falls each ancient barrier that the art +Of race or creed or rank devised, to rear +Grim bulwarked hatred between heart and heart!" + 1883. + + + + + + + THE BIRTH OF MAN. + + A Legend of the Talmud. + + + I. + + +When angels visit earth, the messengers +Of God's decree, they come as lightning, wind: +Before the throne, they all are living fire. +There stand four rows of angels--to the right +The hosts of Michael, Gabriel's to the left, +Before, the troop of Ariel, and behind, +The ranks of Raphael; all, with one accord, +Chanting the glory of the Everlasting. +Upon the high and holy throne there rests, +Invisible, the Majesty of God. +About his brows the crown of mystery +Whereon the sacred letters are engraved +Of the unutterable Name. He grasps +A sceptre of keen fire; the universe +Is compassed in His glance; at His right hand +Life stands, and at His left hand standeth Death. + + + + + II. + + +Lo, the divine idea of making man +Had spread abroad among the heavenly hosts; +And all at once before the immortal throne +Pressed troops of angels and of seraphim, +With minds opposed, and contradicting cries: +"Fulfill, great Father, thine exalted thought! +Create and give unto the earth her king!" +"Cease, cease, Almighty God! create no more!" +And suddenly upon the heavenly sphere +Deep silence fell; before the immortal throne +The angel Mercy knelt, and thus he spoke: +"Fulfill, great Father, thine exalted thought! +Create the likeness of thyself on earth. +In this new creature I will breathe the spirit +Of a divine compassion; he shall be +Thy fairest image in the universe." +But to his words the angel Peace replied, +With heavy sobs: "My spirit was outspread, +Oh God, on thy creation, and all things +Were sweetly bound in gracious harmony. +But man, this strange new being, everywhere +Shall bring confusion, trouble, discord, war." +"Avenger of injustice and of crime," +Exclaimed the angel Justice, "he shall be +Subject to me, and peace shall bloom again. +Create, oh Lord, create!" "Father of truth," +Implored with tears the angel Truth, "Thou bring'st +Upon the earth the father of all lies!" +And over the celestial faces gloomed +A cloud of grief, and stillness deep prevailed. +Then from the midst of that abyss of light +Whence sprang the eternal throne, these words rang forth: +"Be comforted, my daughter! Thee I send +To be companion unto man on earth." +And all the angels cried, lamenting loud: +"Thou robbest heaven of her fairest gem. +Truth! seal of all thy thoughts, Almighty God, +The richest jewel that adorns thy crown." +From the abyss of glory rang the voice: +"From heaven to earth, from earth once more to heaven, +Shall Truth, with constant interchange, alight +And soar again, an everlasting link +Between the world and sky." + And man was born. + + + + + + + RASCHI IN PRAGUE. + + +Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel, +The authoritative Talmudist, returned +From his wide wanderings under many skies, +To all the synagogues of the Orient, +Through Spain and Italy, the isles of Greece, +Beautiful, dolorous, sacred Palestine, +Dead, obelisked Egypt, floral, musk-breathed Persia, +Laughing with bloom, across the Caucasus, +The interminable sameness of bare steppes, +Through dark luxuriance of Bohemian woods, +And issuing on the broad, bright Moldau vale, +Entered the gates of Prague. Here, too, his fame, +Being winged, preceded him. His people swarmed +Like bees to gather the rich honey-dew +Of learning from his lips. Amazement filled +All eyes beholding him. No hoary sage, +He who had sat in Egypt at the feet +Of Moses ben-Maimuni, called him friend; +Raschi the scholiast, poet, and physician, +Who bore the ponderous Bible's storied wisdom, +The Mischna's tangled lore at tip of tongue, +Light as a garland on a lance, appeared +In the just-ripened glory of a man. +From his clear eye youth flamed magnificent; +Force, masked by grace, moved in his balanced frame; +An intellectual, virile beauty reigned +Dominant on domed brow, on fine, firm lips, +An eagle profile cut in gilded bronze, +Strong, delicate as a head upon a coin, +While, as an aureole crowns a burning lamp, +Above all beauty of the body and brain +Shone beauty of a soul benign with love. +Even as a tawny flock of huddled sheep, +Grazing each other's heels, urged by one will, +With bleat and baa following the wether's lead, +Or the wise shepherd, so o'er the Moldau bridge +Trotted the throng of yellow-caftaned Jews, +Chattering, hustling, shuffling. At their head +Marched Rabbi Jochanan ben-Eleazar, +High priest in Prague, oldest and most revered, +To greet the star of Israel. As a father +Yearns toward his son, so toward the noble Raschi +Leapt at first sight the patriarch's fresh old heart. +"My home be thine in Prague! Be thou my son, +Who have no offspring save one simple girl. +See, glorious youth, who dost renew the days +Of David and of Samuel, early graced +With God's anointing oil, how Israel +Delights to honor who hath honored him." +Then Raschi, though he felt a ball of fire +Globe itself in his throat, maintained his calm, +His cheek's opaque, swart pallor while he kissed +Silent the Rabbi's withered hand, and bowed +Divinely humble, his exalted head +Craving the benison. + For each who asked +He had the word of counsel, comfort, help; +For all, rich eloquence of thanks. His voice, +Even and grave, thrilled secret chords and set +Plain speech to music. Certain folk were there +Sick in the body, dragging painful limbs, +To the physician. These he solaced first, +With healing touch, with simples from his pouch, +Warming and lulling, best with promises +Of constant service till their ills were cured. +And some, gray-bearded, bald, and curved with age, +Blear-eyed from poring over lines obscure +And knotty riddles of the Talmud, brought +Their problems to this youth, who cleared and solved, +Yielding prompt answer to a lifetime's search. +Then, followed, pushed by his obsequious tribe, +Who fain had pedestaled him on their backs, +Hemming his steps, choking the airs of heaven +With their oppressive honors, he advanced, +Midst shouts, tumultuous welcomes, kisses showered +Upon his road-stained garments, through Prague's streets, +Gaped at by Gentiles, hissed at and reviled, +But no whit altering his majestic mien +For overwhelming plaudits or contempt. +Glad tidings Raschi brought from West and East +Of thriving synagogues, of famous men, +And flourishing academies. In Rome +The Papal treasurer was a pious Jew, +Rabbi Jehiel, neath whose patronage +Prospered a noble school. Two hundred Jews +Dwelt free and paid no tributary mark. +Three hundred lived in peace at Capua, +Shepherded by the learned Rabbi David, +A prince of Israel. In Babylon +The Jews established their Academy. +Another still in Bagdad, from whose chair +Preached the great rabbi, Samuel Ha-levi, +Versed in the written and the oral law, +Who blindfold could repeat the whole vast text +Of Mischna and Gemara. On the banks +Of Eden-born Euphrates, one day's ride +From Bagdad, Raschi found in the wilderness, +Which once was Babylon, Ezekiel's tomb. +Thrice ten perpetual lamps starred the dim shrine, +Two hundred sentinels held the sleepless vigil, +Receiving offerings. At the Feast of Booths +Here crowded Jews by thousands, out of Persia, +From all the neighboring lands, to celebrate +The glorious memories of the golden days. +Ten thousand Jews with their Academy +Damascus boasted, while in Cairo shone +The pearl, the crown of Israel, ben-Maimuni, +Physician at the Court of Saladin, +The second Moses, gathering at his feet +Sages from all the world. + As Raschi spake, +Forgetting or ignoring the chief shrine, +The Exile's Home, whereunto yearned all hearts, +All ears were strained for tidings. Some one asked: +"What of Jerusalem? Speak to us of Zion." +The light died from his eyes. From depths profound +Issued his grave, great voice: "Alas for Zion! +Verily is she fallen! Where our race +Dictated to the nations, not a handful, +Nay, not a score, not ten, not two abide! +One, only one, one solitary Jew, +The Rabbi Abraham Haceba, flits +Ghostlike amid the ruins; every year +Beggars himself to pay the idolaters +The costly tax for leave to hold a-gape +His heart's live wound; to weep, a mendicant, +Amidst the crumbled stones of palaces +Where reigned his ancestors, upon the graves +Where sleep the priests, the prophets, and the kings +Who were his forefathers. Ask me no more!" + + +Now, when the French Jew's advent was proclaimed, +And his tumultuous greeting, envious growls +And ominous eyebeams threatened storm in Prague. +"Who may this miracle of learning be? +The Anti-Christ! The century-long-awaited, +The hourly-hoped Messiah, come at last! +Else dared they never wax so arrogant, +Flaunting their monstrous joy in Christian eyes, +And strutting peacock-like, with hideous screams, +Who are wont to crawl, mute reptiles underfoot." +A stone or two flung at some servile form, +Liveried in the yellow gaberdine +(With secret happiness but half suppressed +On features cast for misery), served at first +For chance expression of the rabble's hate; +But, swelling like a snow-ball rolled along +By mischief-plotting boys, the rage increased, +Grew to a mighty mass, until it reached +The palace of Duke Vladislaw. He heard +With righteous wrath his injured subjects' charge +Against presumptuous aliens: how these blocked +His avenues, his bridges; bared to the sun +The canker-taint of Prague's obscurest coigne; +Paraded past the churches of the Lord +One who denied Him, one by them hailed Christ. +Enough! This cloud, no bigger than one's hand, +Gains overweening bulk. Prague harbored, first, +Out of contemptuous ruth, a wretched band +Of outcast paupers, gave them leave to ply +Their money-lending trade, and leased them land +On all too facile terms. Behold! to-day, +Like leeches bloated with the people's blood, +They batten on Bohemia's poverty; +They breed and grow; like adders, spit back hate +And venomed perfidy for Christian love. +Thereat the Duke, urged by wise counsellors-- +Narzerad the statesman (half whose wealth was pledged +To the usurers), abetted by the priest, +Bishop of Olmutz, who had visited +The Holy Sepulchre, whose long, full life +Was one clean record of pure piety-- +The Duke, I say, by these persuasive tongues, +Coaxed to his darling aim, forbade his guards +To hinder the just anger of his town, +And ordered to be led in chains to him +The pilgrim and his host. + + + At noontide meal +Raschi sat, full of peace, with Jochanan, +And the sole daughter of the house, Rebekah, +Young, beautiful as her namesake when she brought +Her firm, frail pitcher balanced on her neck +Unto the well, and gave the stranger drink, +And gave his camels drink. The servant set +The sparkling jar's refreshment from his lips, +And saw the virgin's face, bright as the moon, +Beam from the curled luxuriance of black locks, +And cast-back linen veil's soft-folded cloud, +Then put the golden ear-ring by her cheek, +The bracelets on her hands, his master's pledge, +Isaac's betrothal gift, whom she should wed, +And be the mother of millions--one whose seed +Dwells in the gates of those which hate them. + So +Yearned Raschi to adorn the radiant girl +Who sat at board before him, nor dared lift +Shy, heavy lids from pupils black as grapes +That dart the imprisoned sunshine from their core. +But in her ears keen sense was born to catch, +And in her heart strange power to hold, each tone +O' the low-keyed, vibrant voice, each syllable +O' the eloquent discourse, enriched with tales +Of venturous travel, brilliant with fine points +Of delicate humor, or illustrated +With living portraits of world-famoused men, +Jews, Saracens, Crusaders, Islamites, +Whose hand he had grasped--the iron warrior, +Godfrey of Bouillon, the wise infidel +Who in all strength, wit, courtesy excelled +The kings his foes--imperial Saladin. +But even as Raschi spake an abrupt noise +Of angry shouts, of battering staves that shook +The oaken portal, stopped the enchanted voice, +The uplifted wine spilled from the nerveless hand +Of Rabbi Jochanan. "God pity us! +Our enemies are upon us once again. +Hie thee, Rebekah, to the inmost chamber, +Far from their wanton eyes' polluting gaze, +Their desecrating touch! Kiss me! Begone! +Raschi, my guest, my son"--But no word more +Uttered the reverend man. With one huge crash +The strong doors split asunder, pouring in +A stream of soldiers, ruffians, armed with pikes, +Lances, and clubs--the unchained beast, the mob. +"Behold the town's new guest!" jeered one who tossed +The half-filled golden wine-cup's contents straight +In the noble pure young face. "What, master Jew! +Must your good friends of Prague break bolts and bars +To gain a peep at this prodigious pearl +You bury in your shell? Forth to the day! +Our Duke himself claims share of your new wealth; +Summons to court the Jew philosopher!" +Then, while some stuffed their pokes with baubles snatched +From board and shelf, or with malignant sword +Slashed the rich Orient rugs, the pictured woof +That clothed the wall; others had seized and bound, +And gagged from speech, the helpless, aged man; +Still others outraged, with coarse, violent hands, +The marble-pale, rigid as stone, strange youth, +Whose eye like struck flint flashed, whose nether lip +Was threaded with a scarlet line of blood, +Where the compressed teeth fixed it to forced calm. +He struggled not while his free limbs were tied, +His beard plucked, torn and spat upon his robe-- +Seemed scarce to know these insults were for him; +But never swerved his gaze from Jochanan. +Then, in God's language, sealed from these dumb brutes, +Swiftly and low he spake: "Be of good cheer, +Reverend old man. I deign not treat with these. +If one dare offer bodily hurt to thee, +By the ineffable Name! I snap my chains +Like gossamer, and in his blood, to the hilt, +Bathe the prompt knife hid in my girdle's folds. +The Duke shall hear me. Patience. Trust in me." +Somewhat the authoritative voice abashed, +Even hoarse and changed, the miscreants, who feared +Some strong curse lurked in this mysterious tongue, +Armed with this evil eye. But brief the spell. +With gibe and scoff they dragged their victims forth, +The abused old man, the proud, insulted youth, +O'er the late path of his triumphal march, +Befouled with mud, with raiment torn, wild hair +And ragged beard, to Vladislaw. He sat +Expectant in his cabinet. On one side +His secular adviser, Narzerad, +Quick-eyed, sharp-nosed, red-whiskered as a fox; +On the other hand his spiritual guide, +Bishop of Olmutz, unctuous, large, and bland. +"So these twain are chief culprits!" sneered the Duke, +Measuring with the noble's ignorant scorn +His masters of a lesser caste. "Stand forth! +Rash, stubborn, vain old man, whose impudence +Hath choked the public highways with thy brood +Of nasty vermin, by our sufferance hid +In lanes obscure, who hailed this charlatan +With sky-flung caps, bent knees, and echoing shouts, +Due to ourselves alone in Prague; yea, worse, +Who offered worship even ourselves disclaim, +Our Lord Christ's meed, to this blaspheming Jew-- +Thy crimes have murdered patience. Thou hast wrecked +Thy people's fortune with thy own. But first +(For even in anger we are just) recount +With how great compensation from thy store +Of hoarded gold and jewels thou wilt buy +Remission of the penalty. Be wise. +Hark how my subjects, storming through the streets, +Vent on thy tribe accursed their well-based wrath." +And, truly, through closed casements roared the noise +Of mighty surging crowds, derisive cries, +And victims' screams of anguish and affright. +Then Raschi, royal in his rags, began: +"Hear me, my liege!" At that commanding voice, +The Bishop, who with dazed eyes had perused +The grieved, wise, beautiful, pale face, sprang up, +Quick recognition in his glance, warm joy +Aflame on his broad cheeks. "No more! No more! +Thou art the man! Give me the hand to kiss +That raised me from the shadow of the grave +In Jaffa's lazar-house! Listen, my liege! +During my pilgrimage to Palestine +I, sickened with the plague and nigh to death, +Languished 'midst strangers, all my crumbling flesh +One rotten mass of sores, a thing for dogs +To shy from, shunned by Christian as by Turk, +When lo! this clean-breathed, pure-souled, blessed youth, +Whom I, not knowing for an infidel, +Seeing featured like the Christ, believed a saint, +Sat by my pillow, charmed the sting from pain, +Quenched the fierce fever's heat, defeated Death; +And when I was made whole, had disappeared, +No man knew whither, leaving no more trace +Than a re-risen angel. This is he!" +Then Raschi, who had stood erect, nor quailed +From glances of hot hate or crazy wrath, +Now sank his eagle gaze, stooped his high head, +Veiling his glowing brow, returned the kiss +Of brother-love upon the Christian's hand, +And dropping on his knees implored the three, +"Grace for my tribe! They are what ye have made. +If any be among them fawning, false, +Insatiable, revengeful, ignorant, mean-- +And there are many such--ask your own hearts +What virtues ye would yield for planted hate, +Ribald contempt, forced, menial servitude, +Slow centuries of vengeance for a crime +Ye never did commit? Mercy for these! +Who bear on back and breast the scathing brand +Of scarlet degradation, who are clothed +In ignominious livery, whose bowed necks +Are broken with the yoke. Change these to men! +That were a noble witchcraft simply wrought, +God's alchemy transforming clods to gold. +If there be one among them strong and wise, +Whose lips anoint breathe poetry and love, +Whose brain and heart served ever Christian need-- +And there are many such--for his dear sake, +Lest ye chance murder one of God's high priests, +Spare his thrice-wretched tribe! Believe me, sirs, +Who have seen various lands, searched various hearts, +I have yet to touch that undiscovered shore, +Have yet to fathom that impossible soul, +Where a true benefit's forgot; where one +Slight deed of common kindness sown yields not +As now, as here, abundant crop of love. +Every good act of man, our Talmud says, +Creates an angel, hovering by his side. +Oh! what a shining host, great Duke, shall guard +Thy consecrated throne, for all the lives +Thy mercy spares, for all the tears thy ruth +Stops at the source. Behold this poor old man, +Last of a line of princes, stricken in years, +As thy dead father would have been to-day. +Was that white beard a rag for obscene hands +To tear? a weed for lumpish clowns to pluck? +Was that benignant, venerable face +Fit target for their foul throats' voided rheum? +That wrinkled flesh made to be pulled and pricked, +Wounded by flinty pebbles and keen steel? +Behold the prostrate, patriarchal form, +Bruised, silent, chained. Duke, such is Israel!" +"Unbind these men!" commanded Vladislaw. +"Go forth and still the tumult of my town. +Let no Jew suffer violence. Raschi, rise! +Thou who hast served the Christ--with this priest's life, +Who is my spirit's counselor--Christ serves thee. +Return among thy people with my seal, +The talisman of safety. Let them know +The Duke's their friend. Go, publish the glad news!" +Raschi the Saviour, Raschi the Messiah, +Back to the Jewry carried peace and love. +But Narzerad fed his venomed heart with gall, +Vowing to give his fatal hatred vent, +Despite a world of weak fantastic Dukes +And heretic bishops. He fulfilled his vow. + + + + + + + THE DEATH OF RASCHI. + + + [Aaron Ben Mier "loquitur."] + + +If I remember Raschi? An I live, +Grandson, to bless thy grandchild, I'll forget +Never that youth and what he did for Prague. +Aye, aye, I know! he slurred a certain verse +In such and such a prayer; omitted quite +To stand erect there where the ritual +Commands us rise and bow towards the East; +Therefore, the ingrates brand him heterodox, +Neglect his memory whose virtue saved +Each knave of us alive. Not I forget, +No more does God, who wrought a miracle +For his dear sake. The Passover was here. +Raschi, just wedded with the fair Rebekah, +Bode but the lapsing of the holy week +For homeward journey with his bride to France. +The sacred meal was spread. All sat at board +Within the house of Rabbi Jochanan: +The kind old priest; his noble, new-found son, +Whose name was wrung in every key of praise, +By every voice in Prague, from Duke to serf +(Save the vindictive bigot, Narzerad); +The beautiful young wife, whose cup of joy +Sparkled at brim; next her the vacant chair +Awaited the Messiah, who, unannounced, +In God's good time shall take his place with us. +Now when the Rabbi reached the verse where one +Shall rise from table, flinging wide the door, +To give the Prophet entrance, if so be +The glorious hour have sounded, Raschi rose, +Pale, grave, yet glad with great expectancy, +Crossed the hushed room, and, with a joyous smile +To greet the Saviour, opened the door. + A curse! +A cry, "Revenged!" a thrust, a stifled moan, +The sheathing of a poniard--that was all! +In the dark vestibule a fleeing form, +Masked, gowned in black; and in the room of prayer, +Raschi, face downward on the stone-cold floor, +Bleeding his life out. Oh! what a cry was that +(Folk shuddered, hearing, roods off in the street) +Wherewith Rebekah rushed to raise her lord, +Kneeling beside him, striving in vain to quench +With turban, veil, torn shreds of gown, stained hands, +The black blood's sickening gush. He never spoke, +Never rewarded with one glance of life +The passion in her eyes. He met his end +Even as beneath the sickle the full ear +Bows to its death--so beautiful, silent, ripe. + + +Well, we poor Jews must gulp our injuries, +Howe'er they choke us. What redress in Prague +For the inhuman murder? A strange Jew +The victim; the suspected criminal +The ducal counselor! Such odds forbade +Revenge or justice. We forbore to seek. +The priest, discrowned o' the glory of his age, +The widow-bride, mourned as though smitten of God, +Gave forth they would with solemn obsequies +Bury their dead, and crave no help from man. +Now of what chanced betwixt the night of murder +And the appointed burial I can give +Only the sum of gossip--servants' tales, +Neighbors' reports, close confidences leaked +From friends and kindred. Night and day, folk said, +Rebekah wept, prayed, fasted by the corpse, +Three mortal days. Upon the third, her eyes, +Sunk in their pits, glimmered with wild, strange fire. +She started from her place beside the dead, +Kissed clay-cold brow, cheeks, lids, and lips once more, +And with a maniac's wan, heart-breaking smile, +Veiled, hooded, glided through the twilight streets, +A sable shadow. From the willow-grove, +Close by the Moldau's brink, beyond the bridge, +Her trace was lost. 'T was evening and mild May, +Air full of spring, skies perfect as a pearl; +Yet one who saw her pass amidst the shades +O' the blue-gray branches swears a sudden flame, +As of miraculous lightning, thrilled through heaven. +One hour thereafter she reentered Prague, +Slid swiftly through the streets, as though borne on +By ankle-wings or floating on soft cloud, +Smiling no more, but with illumined eyes, +Transfigured brow, grave lips, and faltering limbs, +So came into the room where Raschi lay +Stretched 'twixt tall tapers lit at head and foot. +She held in both hands leafy, flowerless plants, +Some she had fastened in her twisted hair, +Stuck others in her girdle, and from all +Issued a racy odor, pungent-sweet, +The living soul of Spring. Death's chamber seemed +As though clear sunshine and a singing bird +Therein had entered. From the precious herb +She poured into a golden bowl the sap, +Sparkling like wine; then with a soundless prayer, +White as the dead herself, she held the cup +To Raschi's mouth. A quick, small flame sprang up +From the enchanted balsam, died away, +And lo! the color dawned in cheek and lips, +The life returned, the sealed, blind lids were raised, +And in the glorious eyes love reawoke, +And, looking up, met love. + So runs the tale, +Mocked by the worldly-wise; but I believe, +Knowing the miracles the Lord hath wrought +In every age for Jacob's seed. Moreover, +I, with the highest and meanest Jew in Prague, +Was at the burial. No man saw the dead. +Sealed was the coffin ere the rites began, +And none could swear it went not empty down +Into the hollow earth. Too shrewd our priest +To publish such a wonder, and expose +That consecrated life to second death. +Scarce were the thirty days of mourning sped, +When we awoke to find his home left bare, +Rebekah and her father fled from Prague. +God grant they had glad meeting otherwhere! + + + + + + + AN EPISTLE. + + +From Joshua Ibn Vives of Allorqui to his Former Master, Solomon +Levi-Paul, de Santa-Maria, Bishop of Cartegna Chancellor of +Castile, and Privy Councillor to King Henry III. of Spain. + + + [In this poem I have done little more than elaborate + and versify the account given in Graetz's History of the + Jews (Vol. VIII., page 77), of an Epistle actually written + in the beginning of the 15th century by Joshua ben Joseph + Ibn Vives to Paulus de Santa Maria--E.L.] + + + I. + + +Master and Sage, greetings and health to thee, + From thy most meek disciple! Deign once more +Endure me at thy feet, enlighten me, + As when upon my boyish head of yore, +Midst the rapt circle gathered round thy knee + Thy sacred vials of learning thou didst pour. +By the large lustre of thy wisdom orbed +Be my black doubts illumined and absorbed. + + + + + II. + + +Oft I recall that golden time when thou, + Born for no second station, heldst with us +The Rabbi's chair, who art priest and bishop now; + And we, the youth of Israel, curious, +Hung on thy counsels, lifted reverent brow + Unto thy sanctity, would fain discuss +With thee our Talmud problems good and evil, +Till startled by the risen stars o'er Seville. + + + + + III. + + +For on the Synagogue's high-pillared porch + Thou didst hold session, till the sudden sun +Beyond day's purple limit dropped his torch. + Then we, as dreamers, woke, to find outrun +Time's rapid sands. The flame that may not scorch, + Our hearts caught from thine eyes, thou Shining One. +I scent not yet sweet lemon-groves in flower, +But I re-breathe the peace of that deep hour. + + + + + IV. + + +We kissed the sacred borders of thy gown, + Brow-aureoled with thy blessing, we went forth +Through the hushed byways of the twilight town. + Then in all life but one thing seemed of worth, +To seek, find, love the Truth. She set her crown + Upon thy head, our Master, at thy birth; +She bade thy lips drop honey, fired thine eyes +With the unclouded glow of sun-steeped skies. + + + + + V. + + +Forgive me, if I dwell on that which, viewed + From thy new vantage-ground, must seem a mist +Of error, by auroral youth endued + With alien lustre. Still in me subsist +Those reeking vapors; faith and gratitude + Still lead me to the hand my boy-lips kissed +For benison and guidance. Not in wrath, +Master, but in wise patience, point my path. + + + + + VI. + + +For I, thy servant, gather in one sheaf + The venomed shafts of slander, which thy word +Shall shrivel to small dust. If haply grief, + Or momentary pain, I deal, my Lord +Blame not thy servant's zeal, nor be thou deaf + Unto my soul's blind cry for light. Accord-- +Pitying my love, if too superb to care +For hate-soiled name--an answer to my prayer. + + + + + VII. + + +To me, who, vine to stone, clung close to thee, + The very base of life appeared to quake +When first I knew thee fallen from us, to be + A tower of strength among our foes, to make +'Twixt Jew and Jew deep-cloven enmity. + I have wept gall and blood for thy dear sake. +But now with temperate soul I calmly search +Motive and cause that bound thee to the Church. + + + + + VIII. + + +Four motives possible therefor I reach-- + Ambition, doubt, fear, or mayhap--conviction. +I hear in turn ascribed thee all and each + By ignorant folk who part not truth from fiction. +But I, whom even thyself didst stoop to teach, + May poise the scales, weigh this with that confliction, +Yea, sift the hid grain motive from the dense, +Dusty, eye-blinding chaff of consequence. + + + + + IX. + + +Ambition first! I find no fleck thereof + In all thy clean soul. What! could glory, gold, +Or sated senses lure thy lofty love? + No purple cloak to shield thee from the cold, +No jeweled sign to flicker thereabove, + And dazzle men to homage--joys untold +Of spiritual treasure, grace divine, +Alone (so saidst thou) coveting for thine! + + + + + X. + + +I saw thee mount with deprecating air, + Step after step, unto our Jewish throne +Of supreme dignity, the Rabbi's chair; + Shrinking from public honors thrust upon +Thy meek desert, regretting even there + The placid habit of thy life foregone; +Silence obscure, vast peace and austere days +Passed in wise contemplation, prayer, and praise. + + + + + XI. + + +One less than thou had ne'er known such regret. + How must thou suffer, who so lov'st the shade, +In Fame's full glare, whom one stride more shall set + Upon the Papal seat! I stand dismayed, +Familiar with thy fearful soul, and yet + Half glad, perceiving modest worth repaid +Even by the Christians! Could thy soul deflect? +No, no, thrice no! Ambition I reject! + + + + + XII. + + +Next doubt. Could doubt have swayed thee, then I ask, + How enters doubt within the soul of man? +Is it a door that opens, or a mask + That falls? and Truth's resplendent face we scan. +Nay, 't is a creeping, small, blind worm, whose task + Is gnawing at Faith's base; the whole vast plan +Rots, crumbles, eaten inch by inch within, +And on its ruins falsehood springs and sin. + + + + + XIII. + + +But thee no doubt confused, no problems vexed. + Thy father's faith for thee proved bright and sweet. +Thou foundst no rite superfluous, no text + Obscure; the path was straight before thy feet. +Till thy baptismal day, thou, unperplexed + By foreign dogma, didst our prayers repeat, +Honor the God of Israel, fast and feast, +Even as thy people's wont, from first to least. + + + + + XIV. + + +Yes, Doubt I likewise must discard. Not sleek, + Full-faced, erect of head, men walk, when doubt +Writhes at their entrails; pinched and lean of cheek, + With brow pain-branded, thou hadst strayed about +As midst live men a ghost condemned to seek + That soul he may nor live nor die without. +No doubts the font washed from thee, thou didst glide +From creed to creed, complete, sane-souled, clear-eyed. + + + + + XV. + + +Thy pardon, Master, if I dare sustain + The thesis thou couldst entertain a fear. +I would but rout thine enemies, who feign + Ignoble impulse prompted thy career. +I will but weigh the chances and make plain + To Envy's self the monstrous jest appear. +Though time, place, circumstance confirmed in seeming, +One word from thee should frustrate all their scheming. + + + + + XVI. + + +Was Israel glad in Seville on the day + Thou didst renounce him? Then mightst thou indeed +Snap finger at whate'er thy slanderers say. + Lothly must I admit, just then the seed +Of Jacob chanced upon a grievous way. + Still from the wounds of that red year we bleed. +The curse had fallen upon our heads--the sword +Was whetted for the chosen of the Lord. + + + + + XVII. + + +There where we flourished like a fruitful palm, + We were uprooted, spoiled, lopped limb from limb. +A bolt undreamed of out of heavens calm, + So cracked our doom. We were destroyed by him +Whose hand since childhood we had clasped. With balm + Our head had been anointed, at the brim +Our cup ran over--now our day was done, +Our blood flowed free as water in the sun. + + + + + XVIII. + + +Midst the four thousand of our tribe who held + Glad homes in Seville, never a one was spared, +Some slaughtered at their hearthstones, some expelled + To Moorish slavery. Cunningly ensnared, +Baited and trapped were we; their fierce monks yelled + And thundered from our Synagogues, while flared +The Cross above the Ark. Ah, happiest they +Who fell unconquered martyrs on that day! + + + + + XIX. + + +For some (I write it with flushed cheek, bowed head), + Given free choice 'twixt death and shame, chose shame, +Denied the God who visibly had led + Their fathers, pillared in a cloud of flame, +Bathed in baptismal waters, ate the bread + Which is their new Lord's body, took the name +Marranos the Accursed, whom equally +Jew, Moor, and Christian hate, despise, and flee. + + + + + XX. + + +Even one no less than an Abarbanel + Prized miserable length of days, above +Integrity of soul. Midst such who fell, + Far be it, however, from my duteous love, +Master, to reckon thee. Thine own lips tell + How fear nor torture thy firm will could move. +How thou midst panic nowise disconcerted, +By Thomas of Aquinas wast converted! + + + + + XXI. + + +Truly I know no more convincing way + To read so wise an author, than was thine. +When burning Synagogues changed night to day, + And red swords underscored each word and line. +That was a light to read by! Who'd gainsay + Authority so clearly stamped divine? +On this side, death and torture, flame and slaughter, +On that, a harmless wafer and clean water. + + + + + XXII. + + +Thou couldst not fear extinction for our race; + Though Christian sword and fire from town to town +Flash double bladed lightning to efface + Israel's image--though we bleed, burn, drown +Through Christendom--'t is but a scanty space. + Still are the Asian hills and plains our own, +Still are we lords in Syria, still are free, +Nor doomed to be abolished utterly. + + + + + XXIII. + + +One sole conclusion hence at last I find, + Thou whom ambition, doubt, nor fear could swerve, +Perforce hast been persuaded through the mind, + Proved, tested the new dogmas, found them serve +Thy spirit's needs, left flesh and sense behind, + Accepted without shrinking or reserve, +The trans-substantial bread and wine, the Christ +At whose shrine thine own kin were sacrificed. + + + + + XXIV. + + +Here then the moment comes when I crave light. + All's dark to me. Master, if I be blind, +Thou shalt unseal my lids and bless with sight, + Or groping in the shadows, I shall find +Whether within me or without, dwell night. + Oh cast upon my doubt-bewildered mind +One ray from thy clear heaven of sun-bright faith, +Grieving, not wroth, at what thy servant saith. + + + + + XXV. + + +Where are the signs fulfilled whereby all men + Should know the Christ? Where is the wide-winged peace +Shielding the lamb within the lion's den? + The freedom broadening with the wars that cease? +Do foes clasp hands in brotherhood again? + Where is the promised garden of increase, +When like a rose the wilderness should bloom? +Earth is a battlefield and Spain a tomb. + + + + + XXVI. + + +Our God of Sabaoth is an awful God + Of lightnings and of vengeance,--Christians say. +Earth trembled, nations perished at his nod; + His Law has yielded to a milder sway. +Theirs is the God of Love whose feet have trod + Our common earth--draw near to him and pray, +Meek-faced, dove-eyed, pure-browed, the Lord of life, +Know him and kneel, else at your throat the knife! + + + + + XXVII. + + +This is the God of Love, whose altars reek + With human blood, who teaches men to hate; +Torture past words, or sins we may not speak + Wrought by his priests behind the convent-grate. +Are his priests false? or are his doctrines weak + That none obeys him? State at war with state, +Church against church--yea, Pope at feud with Pope +In these tossed seas what anchorage for hope? + + + + + XXVIII. + + +Not only for the sheep without the fold + Is the knife whetted, who refuse to share +Blessings the shepherd wise doth not withhold + Even from the least among his flock--but there +Midmost the pale, dissensions manifold, + Lamb flaying lamb, fierce sheep that rend and tear. +Master, if thou to thy pride's goal should come, +Where wouldst thou throne--at Avignon or Rome? + + + + + XXIX. + + +I handle burning questions, good my lord, + Such as may kindle fagots, well I wis. +Your Gospel not denies our older Word, + But in a way completes and betters this. +The Law of Love shall supersede the sword, + So runs the promise, but the facts I miss. +Already needs this wretched generation, +A voice divine--a new, third revelation. + + + + + XXX. + + +Two Popes and their adherents fulminate + Ban against ban, and to the nether hell +Condemn each other, while the nations wait + Their Christ to thunder forth from Heaven, and tell +Who is his rightful Vicar, reinstate + His throne, the hideous discord to dispel. +Where shall I seek, master, while such things be, +Celestial truth, revealed certainty! + + + + + XXXI. + + +Not miracles I doubt, for how dare man, + Chief miracle of life's mystery, say HE KNOWS? +How may he closely secret causes scan, + Who learns not whence he comes nor where he goes? +Like one who walks in sleep a doubtful span + He gropes through all his days, till Death unclose +His cheated eyes and in one blinding gleam, +Wakes, to discern the substance from the dream. + + + + + XXXII. + + +I say not therefore I deny the birth, + The Virgin's motherhood, the resurrection, +Who know not how mine own soul came to earth, + Nor what shall follow death. Man's imperfection +May bound not even in thought the height and girth + Of God's omnipotence; neath his direction +We may approach his essence, but that He +Should dwarf Himself to us--it cannot be! + + + + + XXXIII. + + +The God who balances the clouds, who spread + The sky above us like a molten glass, +The God who shut the sea with doors, who laid + The corner-stone of earth, who caused the grass +Spring forth upon the wilderness, and made + The darkness scatter and the night to pass-- +That He should clothe Himself with flesh, and move +Midst worms a worm--this, sun, moon, stars disprove. + + + + + XXXIV. + + +Help me, O thou who wast my boyhood's guide, + I bend my exile-weary feet to thee, +Teach me the indivisible to divide, + Show me how three are one and One is three! +How Christ to save all men was crucified, + Yet I and mine are damned eternally. +Instruct me, Sage, why Virtue starves alone, +While falsehood step by step ascends the throne. + + + + + + + BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON. + + LITTLE POEMS IN PROSE. + + + I. THE EXODUS. (August 3, 1492.) + + +1. The Spanish noon is a blaze of azure fire, and the dusty +pilgrims crawl like an endless serpent along treeless plains and +bleached highroads, through rock-split ravines and castellated, +cathedral-shadowed towns. + +2. The hoary patriarch, wrinkled as an almond shell, bows painfully +upon his staff. The beautiful young mother, ivory-pale, well-nigh +swoons beneath her burden; in her large enfolding arms nestles her +sleeping babe, round her knees flock her little ones with bruised +and bleeding feet. "Mother, shall we soon be there?" + +3. The youth with Christ-like countenance speaks comfortably to +father and brother, to maiden and wife. In his breast, his own +heart is broken. + +4. The halt, the blind, are amid the train. Sturdy pack-horses +laboriously drag the tented wagons wherein lie the sick athirst +with fever. + +5. The panting mules are urged forward with spur and goad; stuffed +are the heavy saddlebags with the wreckage of ruined homes. + +6. Hark to the tinkling silver bells that adorn the tenderly-carried +silken scrolls. + +7. In the fierce noon-glare a lad bears a kindled lamp; behind its +net-work of bronze the airs of heaven breathe not upon its faint +purple star. + +8. Noble and abject, learned and simple, illustrious and obscure, +plod side by side, all brothers now, all merged in one routed army +of misfortune. + +9. Woe to the straggler who falls by the wayside! no friend shall +close his eyes. + +10. They leave behind, the grape, the olive, and the fig; the vines +they planted, the corn they sowed, the garden-cities of Andalusia +and Aragon, Estremadura and La Mancha, of Granada and Castile; the +altar, the hearth, and the grave of their fathers. + +11. The townsman spits at their garments, the shepherd quits his +flock, the peasant his plow, to pelt with curses and stones; the +villager sets on their trail his yelping cur. + +12. Oh the weary march, oh the uptorn roots of home, oh the +blankness of the receding goal! + +13. Listen to their lamentation: They that ate dainty food are +desolate in the streets; they that were reared in scarlet embrace +dunghills. They flee away and wander about. Men say among the +nations, they shall no more sojourn there; our end is near, our +days are full, our doom is come. + +14. Whither shall they turn? for the West hath cast them out, and +the East refuseth to receive. + +15. O bird of the air, whisper to the despairing exiles, that +to-day, to-day, from the many-masted, gayly-bannered port of Palos, +sails the world-unveiling Genoese, to unlock the golden gates of +sunset and bequeath a Continent to Freedom! + + + + + II. TREASURES. + + +1. Through cycles of darkness the diamond sleeps in its coal-black +prison. + +2. Purely incrusted in its scaly casket, the breath-tarnished pearl +slumbers in mud and ooze. + +3. Buried in the bowels of earth, rugged and obscure, lies the +ingot of gold. + +4. Long hast thou been buried, O Israel, in the bowels of earth; +long hast thou slumbered beneath the overwhelming waves; long hast +thou slept in the rayless house of darkness. + +5. Rejoice and sing, for only thus couldst thou rightly guard the +golden knowledge, Truth, the delicate pearl and the adamantine +jewel of the Law. + + + + + III. THE SOWER. + + +1. Over a boundless plain went a man, carrying seed. + +2. His face was blackened by sun and rugged from tempest, scarred +and distorted by pain. Naked to the loins, his back was ridged with +furrows, his breast was plowed with stripes. + +3. From his hand dropped the fecund seed. + +4. And behold, instantly started from the prepared soil a blade, a +sheaf, a springing trunk, a myriad-branching, cloud-aspiring tree. +Its arms touched the ends of the horizon, the heavens were darkened +with its shadow. + +5. It bare blossoms of gold and blossoms of blood, fruitage of +health and fruitage of poison; birds sang amid its foliage, and a +serpent was coiled about its stem. + +6. Under its branches a divinely beautiful man, crowned with +thorns, was nailed to a cross. + +7. And the tree put forth treacherous boughs to strangle the Sower; +his flesh was bruised and torn, but cunningly he disentangled the +murderous knot and passed to the eastward. + +8. Again there dropped from his hand the fecund seed. + +9. And behold, instantly started from the prepared soil a blade, a +sheaf, a springing trunk, a myriad-branching, cloud-aspiring tree. +Crescent shaped like little emerald moons were the leaves; it bare +blossoms of silver and blossoms of blood, fruitage of health and +fruitage of poison; birds sang amid its foliage and a serpent was +coiled about its stem. + +10. Under its branches a turbaned mighty-limbed Prophet brandished +a drawn sword. + +11. And behold, this tree likewise puts forth perfidious arms to +strangle the Sower; but cunningly he disentangles the murderous +knot and passes on. + +12. Lo, his hands are not empty of grain, the strength of his arm +is not spent. + +13. What germ hast thou saved for the future, O miraculous +Husbandman? Tell me, thou Planter of Christhood and Islam; +tell me, thou seed-bearing Israel! + + + + + IV. THE TEST. + + +1. Daylong I brooded upon the Passion of Israel. + +2. I saw him bound to the wheel, nailed to the cross, cut off by +the sword, burned at the stake, tossed into the seas. + +3. And always the patient, resolute, martyr face arose in silent +rebuke and defiance. + +4. A Prophet with four eyes; wide gazed the orbs of the spirit +above the sleeping eyelids of the senses. + +5. A Poet, who plucked from his bosom the quivering heart and +fashioned it into a lyre. + +6. A placid-browed Sage, uplifted from earth in celestial +meditation. + +7. These I saw, with princes and people in their train; the +monumental dead and the standard-bearers of the future. + +8. And suddenly I heard a burst of mocking laughter, and turning, I +beheld the shuffling gait, the ignominious features, the sordid mask +of the son of the Ghetto. + + + + + V. CURRENTS. + + +1. Vast oceanic movements, the flux and reflux of immeasurable +tides, oversweep our continent. + +2. From the far Caucasian steppes, from the squalid Ghettos of +Europe, + +3. From Odessa and Bucharest, from Kief, and Ekaterinoslav, + +4. Hark to the cry of the exiles of Babylon, the voice of Rachel +mourning for her children, of Israel lamenting for Zion. + +5. And lo, like a turbid stream, the long-pent flood bursts the +dykes of oppression and rushes hitherward. + +6. Unto her ample breast, the generous mother of nations welcomes +them. + +7. The herdsman of Canaan and the seed of Jerusalem's royal +shepherd renew their youth amid the pastoral plains of Texas +and the golden valleys of the Sierras. + + + + + VI. THE PROPHET. + + +1. Moses Ben Maimon lifting his perpetual lamp over the path of the +perplexed; + +2. Hallevi, the honey-tongued poet, wakening amid the silent ruins +of Zion the sleeping lyre of David; + +3. Moses, the wise son of Mendel, who made the Ghetto illustrious; + +4. Abarbanel, the counselor of kings; Alcharisi, the exquisite +singer; Ibn Ezra, the perfect old man; Gabirol, the tragic seer; + +5. Heine, the enchanted magician, the heartbroken jester; + +6. Yea, and the century-crowned patriarch whose bounty engirdles +the globe;-- + +7. These need no wreath and no trumpet; like perennial asphodel +blossoms, their fame, their glory resounds like the brazen-throated +cornet. + +8. But thou--hast thou faith in the fortune of Israel? Wouldst thou +lighten the anguish of Jacob? + +9. Then shalt thou take the hand of yonder caftaned wretch with +flowing curls and gold-pierced ears; + +10. Who crawls blinking forth from the loathsome recesses of the +Jewry; + +11. Nerveless his fingers, puny his frame; haunted by the bat-like +phantoms of superstition is his brain. + +12. Thou shalt say to the bigot, "My Brother," and to the creature +of darkness, "My Friend." + +13. And thy heart shall spend itself in fountains of love upon the +ignorant, the coarse, and the abject. + +14. Then in the obscurity thou shalt hear a rush of wings, thine +eyes shall be bitten with pungent smoke. + +15. And close against thy quivering lips shall be pressed the live +coal wherewith the Seraphim brand the Prophets. + + + + + VII. CHRYSALIS. + + +1. Long, long has the Orient-Jew spun around his helplessness the +cunningly enmeshed web of Talmud and Kabbala. + +2. Imprisoned in dark corners of misery and oppression, closely he +drew about him the dust-gray filaments, soft as silk and stubborn +as steel, until he lay death-stiffened in mummied seclusion. + +3. And the world has named him an ugly worm, shunning the blessed +daylight. + +4. But when the emancipating springtide breathes wholesome, +quickening airs, when the Sun of Love shines out with cordial +fires, lo, the Soul of Israel bursts her cobweb sheath, and flies +forth attired in the winged beauty of immortality. + + + + + + + TO CARMEN SYLVA. + + +Oh, that the golden lyre divine +Whence David smote flame-tones were mine! +Oh, that the silent harp which hung + Untuned, unstrung, +Upon the willows by the river, +Would throb beneath my touch and quiver +With the old song-enchanted spell + Of Israel! + + +Oh, that the large prophetic Voice +Would make my reed-piped throat its choice! +All ears should prick, all hearts should spring, + To hear me sing +The burden of the isles, the word +Assyria knew, Damascus heard, +When, like the wind, while cedars shake, + Isaiah spake. + + +For I would frame a song to-day +Winged like a bird to cleave its way +O'er land and sea that spread between, + To where a Queen +Sits with a triple coronet. +Genius and Sorrow both have set +Their diadems above the gold-- + A Queen three-fold! + + +To her the forest lent its lyre, +Hers are the sylvan dews, the fire +Of Orient suns, the mist-wreathed gleams +تتتتتت Of mountain streams. +She, the imperial Rhine's own child, +Takes to her heart the wood-nymph wild, +The gypsy Pelech, and the wide, + White Danube's tide. + + +She who beside an infant's bier +Long since resigned all hope to hear +The sacred name of "Mother" bless + Her childlessness, +Now from a people's sole acclaim +Receives the heart-vibrating name, +And "Mother, Mother, Mother!" fills + The echoing hills. + + +Yet who is he who pines apart, +Estranged from that maternal heart, +Ungraced, unfriended, and forlorn, + The butt of scorn? +An alien in his land of birth, +An outcast from his brethren's earth, +Albeit with theirs his blood mixed well + When Plevna fell? + + +When all Roumania's chains were riven, +When unto all his sons was given +The hero's glorious reward, + Reaped by the sword,-- +Wherefore was this poor thrall, whose chains +Hung heaviest, within whose veins +The oldest blood of freedom streamed, + Still unredeemed? + + +O Mother, Poet, Queen in one! +Pity and save--he is thy son. +For poet David's sake, the king + Of all who sing; +For thine own people's sake who share +His law, his truth, his praise, his prayer; +For his sake who was sacrificed-- + His brother--Christ! + + + + + + + THE DANCE TO DEATH; + + A Historical Tragedy in Five Acts. + + +This play is dedicated, in profound veneration and respect, to the +memory of George Eliot, the illustrious writer, who did most among +the artists of our day towards elevating and ennobling the spirit +of Jewish nationality. + + + + +THE PERSONS. + +FREDERICK THE GRAVE, Landgrave of Thuringia and Margrave of + Meissen, Protector and Patron of the Free City of Nordhausen. +PRINCE WILLIAM OF MEISSEN, his son. +SUSSKIND VON ORB, a Jew. +HENRY SCHNETZEN, Governor of Salza. +HENRY NORDMANN OF NORDMANNSTEIN, Knight of Treffurt. +REINHARD PEPPERCORN, Prior of Wartburg Monastery. +RABBI JACOB. +DIETRICH VON TETTENBORN, President of the Council. +REUBEN VON ORB, a boy, Susskind's son. +BARUCH and NAPHTALI,Jews. +RABBI CRESSELIN. +LAY-BROTHER. +PAGE. +PUBLIC SCRIVENER. + +PRINCESS MATHILDIS, wife to Frederick. +LIEBHAID VON ORB. +CLAIRE CRESSELIN. + +Jews, Jewesses, Burghers, Senators, Citizens, Citizen's Wife and +Boy, Flagellants, Servants, Guardsmen. + + +Scene--Partly in Nordhausen, partly in Eisenach. Time, May, 4th, +5th, 6th, 1349. + + + + ACT I.--In Nordhausen. + +SCENE I. + + A street in the Judengasse, outside the Synagogue. During this + Scene Jews and Jewesses, singly and in groups, with prayer-books + in their hands, pass across the stage, and go into the Synagogue. + Among them, enter BARUCH and NAPHTALI. + + +NAPHTALI. +Hast seen him yet? + + +BARUCH. + Nay; Rabbi Jacob's door +Swung to behind him, just as I puffed up +O'erblown with haste. See how our years weigh, cousin. +Who'd judge me with this paunch a temperate man, +A man of modest means, a man withal +Scarce overpast his prime? Well, God be praised, +If age bring no worse burden! Who is this stranger? +Simon the Leech tells me he claims to bear +Some special message from the Lord--no doubt +To-morrow, fresh from rest, he'll publish it +Within the Synagogue. + + +NAPHTALI. + To-morrow, man? +He will not hear of rest--he comes anon-- +Shall we within? + + +BARUCH. + Rather let's wait, +And scrutinize him as he mounts the street. +Since you denote him so remarkable, +You've whetted my desire. + + +NAPHTALI. + A blind, old man, +Mayhap is all you'll find him--spent with travel, +His raiment fouled with dust, his sandaled feet +Road-bruised by stone and bramble. But his face!-- +Majestic with long fall of cloud-white beard, +And hoary wreath of hair--oh, it is one +Already kissed by angels. + + +BARUCH. + Look, there limps +Little Manasseh, bloated as his purse, +And wrinkled as a frost-pinched fruit. I hear +His last loan to the Syndic will result +In quadrupling his wealth. Good Lord! what luck +Blesses some folk, while good men stint and sweat +And scrape, to merely fill the household larder. +What said you of this pilgrim, Naphtali? +These inequalities of fortune rub +My sense of justice so against the grain, +I lose my very name. Whence does he come? +Is he alone? + + +NAPHTALI. + He comes from Chinon, France. +Rabbi Cresselin he calls himself--alone +Save for his daughter who has led him hither. +A beautiful, pale girl with round black eyes. + + +BARUCH. +Bring they fresh tidings of the pestilence? + + +NAPHTALI. +I know not--but I learn from other source +It has burst forth at Erfurt. + + +BARUCH. + God have mercy! +Have many of our tribe been stricken? + + +NAPHTALI. + No. +They cleanse their homes and keep their bodies sweet, +Nor cease from prayer--and so does Jacob's God +Protect His chosen, still. Yet even His favor +Our enemies would twist into a curse. +Beholding the destroying angel smite +The foal idolater and leave unscathed +The gates of Israel--the old cry they raise-- +WE have begotten the Black Death--WE poison +The well-springs of the towns. + + +BARUCH. + God pity us! +But truly are we blessed in Nordhausen. +Such terrors seem remote as Egypt's plagues. +I warrant you our Landgrave dare not harry +Such creditors as we. See, here comes one, +The greatest and most liberal of them all-- +Susskind von Orb. + + SUSSKIND VON ORB, LIEBHAID, and REUBEN enter, all pass across + the stage, and disappear within the Synagogue. + + I'd barter my whole fortune, +And yours to boot, that's thrice the bulk of mine, +For half the bonds he holds in Frederick's name. +The richest merchant in Thuringia, he-- +The poise of his head would tell it, knew we not. +How has his daughter leaped to womanhood! +I mind when she came toddling by his hand, +But yesterday--a flax-haired child--to-day +Her brow is level with his pompous chin. + + +NAPHTALI. +How fair she is! Her hair has kept its gold +Untarnished still. I trace not either parent +In her face, clean cut as a gem. + + +BARUCH. + Her mother +Was far-off kin to me, and I might pass, +I'm told, unguessed in Christian garb. I know +A pretty secret of that scornful face. +It lures high game to Nordhausen. + + +NAPHTALI. + Baruch, +I marvel at your prompt credulity. +The Prince of Meissen and Liebhaid von Orb! +A jest for gossips and--Look, look, he comes! + + +BARUCH. +Who's that, the Prince? + + +NAPHTALI. + Nay, dullard, the old man, +The Rabbi of Chinon. Ah! his stout staff, +And that brave creature's strong young hand suffice +Scarcely to keep erect his tottering frame. +Emaciate-lipped, with cavernous black eyes +Whose inward visions do eclipse the day, +Seems he not one re-risen from the grave +To yield the secret? + + Enter RABBI JACOB, and RABBI CRESSELIN led by CLAIRE. They walk + across the stage, and disappear in the Synagogue. + + +BARUCH (exaltedly). + Blessed art thou, O Lord, +King of the Universe, who teachest wisdom +To those who fear thee! + + +NAPHTALI. + Haste we in. The star +Of Sabbath dawns. + + +BARUCH. + My flesh is still a-creep +From the strange gaze of those wide-rolling orbs. +Didst note, man, how they fixed me? His lean cheeks, +As wan as wax, were bloodless; how his arms +Stretched far beyond the flowing sleeve and showed +Gaunt, palsied wrists, and hands blue-tipped with death! +Well, I have seen a sage of Israel. +[They enter the Synagogue. Scene closes.] + + + +SCENE II. + + The Synagogue crowded with worshippers. Among the women in the + Gallery are discovered LIEBHAID VON ORB and CLAIRE CRESSELIN. + Below, among the men, SUSSKIND VON ORB and REUBEN. At the + Reader's Desk, RABBI JACOB. Fronting the audience under the + Ark of the Covenant, stands a high desk, behind which is seen + the white head of an old man bowed in prayer. BARUCH and NAPHTALI + enter and take their seats. + + +BARUCH. +Think you he speaks before the service? + + +NAPHTALI. + Yea. +Lo, phantom-like the towering patriarch! +[RABBI CRESSELIN slowly rises beneath the Ark.] + + +RABBI CRESSELIN. +Woe unto Israel! woe unto all +Abiding 'mid strange peoples! Ye shall be +Cut off from that land where ye made your home. +I, Cresselin of Chinon, have traveled far, +Thence where my fathers dwelt, to warn my race, +For whom the fire and stake have been prepared. +Our brethren of Verdun, all over France, +Are burned alive beneath the Goyim's torch. +What terrors have I witnessed, ere my sight +Was mercifully quenched! In Gascony, +In Savoy, Piedmont, round the garden shores +Of tranquil Leman, down the beautiful Rhine, +At Lindau, Costnitz, Schaffhausen, St. Gallen, +Everywhere torture, smoking Synagogues, +Carnage, and burning flesh. The lights shine out +Of Jewish virtue, Jewish truth, to star +The sanguine field with an immortal blazon. +The venerable Mar-Isaac in Cologne, +Sat in his house at prayer, nor lifted lid +From off the sacred text, while all around +The fanatics ran riot; him they seized, +Haled through the streets, with prod of stick and spike +Fretted his wrinkled flesh, plucked his white beard. +Dragged him with gibes into their Church, and held +A Crucifix before him. "Know thy Lord!" +He spat thereon; he was pulled limb from limb. +I saw--God, that I might forget!--a man +Leap in the Loire, with his fair, stalwart son, +A-bloom with youth, and midst the stream unsheathe +A poniard, sheathing it in his boy's heart, +While he pronounced the blessing for the dead. +"Amen!" the lad responded as he sank, +And the white water darkened as with wine. +I saw--but no! You are glutted, and my tongue, +Blistered, refuseth to narrate more woe. +I have known much sorrow. When it pleased the Lord +To afflict us with the horde of Pastoureaux, +The rabble of armed herdsmen, peasants, slaves, +Men-beasts of burden--coarse as the earth they tilled, +Who like an inundation deluged France +To drown our race--my heart held firm, my faith +Shook not upon her rock until I saw, +Smit by God's beam, the big black cloud dissolve. +Then followed with their scythes, spades, clubs, and banners +Flaunting the Cross, the hosts of Armleder, +From whose fierce wounds we scarce are healed to-day. +Yet do I say the cup of bitterness +That Israel has drained is but a draught +Of cordial, to the cup that is prepared. +The Black Death and the Brothers of the Cross, +These are our foes--and these are everywhere. +I who am blind see ruin in their wake; +Ye who have eyes and limbs, arise and flee! +To-morrow the Flagellants will be here. +God's angel visited my sleep and spake: +"Thy Jewish kin in the Thuringian town +Of Nordhausen shall be swept off from earth, +Their elders and their babes--consumed with fire. +Go summon Israel to flight--take this +As sign that I, who call thee, am the Lord, +Thine eyes shalt be struck blind till thou hast spoken." +Then darkness fell upon my mortal sense, +But light broke o'er my soul, and all was clear, +And I have journeyed hither with my child +O'er mount and river, till I have announced +The message of the Everlasting God. +[Sensation in the Synagogue.] + + +RABBI JACOB. +Father, have mercy! when wilt thou have done +With rod and scourge? Beneath thy children's feet +Earth splits, fire springs. No rest, no rest! no rest, + + +A VOICE. +Look to the women! Marianne swoons! + + +ANOTHER VOICE. +Woe unto us who sinned! + + +ANOTHER VOICE. + We're all dead men. +Fly, fly ere dawn as our forefathers fled +From out the land of Egypt. + + +BARUCH. + Are ye mad? +Shall we desert snug homes? forego the sum +Scraped through laborious years to smooth life's slope, +And die like dogs unkenneled and untombed, +At bidding of a sorrow-crazed old man? + + +A VOICE. +He flouts the Lord's anointed! Cast him forth! + + +SUSSKIND VON ORB. +Peace, brethren, peace! If I have ever served +Israel with purse, arm, brain, or heart--now hear me! +May God instruct my speech! This wise old man, +Whose brow flames with the majesty of truth, +May be part-blinded through excess of light, +As one who eyes too long the naked sun, +Setting in rayless glory, turns and finds +Outlines confused, familiar colors changed, +All objects branded with one blood-bright spot. +Nor chafe at Baruch's homely sense; truth floats +Midway between the stars and the abyss. +We, by God's grace, have found a special nest +I' the dangerous rock, screened against wind and hawk; +Free burghers of a free town, blessed moreover +With the peculiar favor of the Prince, +Frederick the Grave, our patron and protector. +What shall we fear? Rather, where shall we seek +Secure asylum, if here be not one? +Fly? Our forefathers had the wilderness, +The sea their gateway, and the fire-cored cloud +Their divine guide. Us, hedged by ambushed foes, +No frank, free, kindly desert shall receive. +Death crouches on all sides, prepared to leap +Tiger-like on our throats, when first we step +From this safe covert. Everywhere the Plague! +As nigh as Erfurt it has crawled--the towns +Reek with miasma, the rank fields of spring, +Rain-saturated, are one beautiful--lie, +Smiling profuse life, and secreting death. +Strange how, unbidden, a trivial memory +Thrusts itself on my mind in this grave hour. +I saw a large white bull urged through the town +To slaughter by a stripling with a goad, +Whom but one sure stamp of that solid heel, +One toss of those mooned horns, one battering blow +Of that square marble forehead, would have crushed, +As we might crush a worm, yet on he trudged, +Patient, in powerful health to death. At once, +As though o' the sudden stung, he roared aloud, + +Beat with fierce hoofs the air, shook desperately +His formidable head, and heifer-swift, +Raced through scared, screaming streets. Well, and the end? +He was the promptlier bound and killed and quartered. +The world belongs to man; dreams the poor brute +Some nook has been apportioned for brute life? +Where shall a man escape men's cruelty? +Where shall God's servant cower from his doom? +Let us bide, brethren--we are in His hand. + + +RABBI CRESSELIN (uttering a piercing shriek). + Ah! +Woe unto Israel! Lo, I see again, +As the Ineffable foretold. I see +A flood of fire that streams towards the town. +Look, the destroying Angel with the sword, +Wherefrom the drops of gall are raining down, +Broad-winged, comes flying towards you. Now he draws +His lightning-glittering blade! With the keen edge +He smiteth Israel--ah! +[He falls back dead. Confusion in the Synagogue.] + + +CLAIRE (from the gallery). + Father! My father! +Let me go down to him! + + +LIEBHAID. + Sweet girl, be patient. +This is the House of God, and He hath entered. +Bow we and pray. +[Meanwhile, some of the men surround and raise from the ground the +body of RABBI CRESSELIN. Several voices speaking at once.] + + +1ST VOICE. + He's doomed. + + +2D VOICE. +تتتتتتتتDead! Dead! + + +3D VOICE. + A judgment! + + +4TH VOICE. +Make way there! Air! Carry him forth! He's warm! + +3D VOICE. +Nay, his heart's stopped--his breath has ceased--quite dead. + + +5TH VOICE. +Didst mark a diamond lance flash from the roof, +And strike him 'twixt the eyes? + + +1ST VOICE. + Our days are numbered. +This is the token. + + +RABBI JACOB. + Lift the corpse and pray. +Shall we neglect God's due observances, +While He is manifest in miracle? +I saw a blaze seven times more bright than fire, +Crest, halo-wise, the patriarch's white head. +The dazzle stung my burning lids--they closed, +One instant--when they oped, the great blank cloud +Had settled on his countenance forever.* +Departed brother, mayest thou find the gates +Of heaven open, see the city of peace, +And meet the ministering angels, glad, +Hastening towards thee! May the High Priest stand +To greet and bless thee! Go thou to the end! +Repose in peace and rise again to life. +No more thy sun sets, neither wanes thy moon. +The Lord shall be thy everlasting light, +Thy days of mourning shall be at an end. +For you, my flock, fear nothing; it is writ +As one his mother comforteth, so I +Will comfort you and in Jerusalem +Ye shall be comforted. [Scene closes.] + + *From this point to the end of the scene is a literal + translation of the Hebrew burial service. + + + +SCENE III. + + Evening. A crooked byway in the Judengasse. Enter PRINCE + WILLIAM. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Cursed be these twisted lanes! I have missed the clue +Of the close labyrinth. Nowhere in sight, +Just when I lack it, a stray gaberdine +To pick me up my thread. Yet when I haste +Through these blind streets, unwishful to be spied, +Some dozen hawk-eyes peering o'er crook'd beaks +Leer recognition, and obsequious caps +Do kiss the stones to greet my princeship. Bah! +Strange, 'midst such refuse sleeps so white a pearl. +At last, here shuffles one. + + Enter a Jew. + + Give you good even! +Sir, can you help me to the nighest way +Unto the merchant's house, Susskind von Orb? + + +JEW. +Whence come you knowing not the high brick wall, +Without, blank as my palm, o' the inner side, +Muring a palace? But--do you wish him well? +He is my friend--we must be wary, wary, +We all have warning--Oh, the terror of it! +I have not yet my wits! + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + I am his friend. +Is he in peril? What's the matter, man? + + +JEW. +Peril? His peril is no worse than mine, +But the rich win compassion. God is just, +And every man of us is doomed. Alack! +HE said it--oh those wild, white eyes! + + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + I pray you, +Tell me the way to Susskind's home. + + +JEW. + + Sweet master, +You look the perfect knight, what can you crave +Of us starved, wretched Jews? Leave us in peace. +The Judengasse gates will shut anon, +Nor ope till morn again for Jew or Gentile. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Here's gold. I am the Prince of Meissen--speak! + + +JEW. +Oh pardon! Let me kiss your mantle's edge. +This way, great sir, I lead you there myself, +If you deign follow one so poor, so humble. +You must show mercy in the name of God, +For verily are we afflicted. Come. +Hard by is Susskind's dwelling--as we walk +By your good leave I'll tell what I have seen. +[Exeunt.] + + + +SCENE IV. + + A luxuriously-furnished apartment in SUSSKIND VON ORB'S house. + Upon a richly-spread supper-table stands the seven-branched + silver candlestick of the Sabbath eve. At the table are seated + SUSSKIND VON ORB, LIEBHAID, and REUBEN. + + +SUSSKIND. +Drink, children, drink! and lift your hearts to Him +Who gives us the vine's fruit. +[They drink.] + How clear it glows; +Like gold within the golden bowl, like fire +Along our veins, after the work-day week +Rekindling Sabbath-fervor, Sabbath-strength. +Verily God prepares for me a table +In presence of mine enemies! He anoints +My head with oil, my cup is overflowing. +Praise we His name! Hast thou, my daughter, served +The needs o' the poor, suddenly-orphaned child? +Naught must she lack beneath my roof. + + +LIEBHAID. + Yea, father. +She prays and weeps within: she had no heart +For Sabbath meal, but charged me with her thanks-- + + +SUSSKIND. +Thou shalt be mother and sister in one to her. +Speak to her comfortably. + + +REUBEN. + She has begged +A grace of me I happily can grant. +After our evening-prayer, to lead her back +Unto the Synagogue, where sleeps her father, +A light at head and foot, o'erwatched by strangers; +She would hold vigil. + + +SUSSKIND. + 'T is a pious wish, +Not to be crossed, befitting Israel's daughter. +Go, Reuben; heavily the moments hang, +While her heart yearns to break beside his corpse. +Receive my blessing. +[He places his hands upon his son's head in benediction. Exit +Reuben.] + Henceforth her home is here. +In the event to-night, God's finger points +Visibly out of heaven. A thick cloud +Befogs the future. But just here is light. + + Enter a servant ushering in PRINCE WILLIAM. + + +SERVANT. +His highness Prince of Meissen. +[Exit.] + + +SUSSKIND. + Welcome, Prince! +God bless thy going forth and coming in! +Sit at our table and accept the cup +Of welcome which my daughter fills. +[LIEBHAID offers him wine.] + + +PRINCE WILLIAM (drinking). + To thee! +[All take their seats at the table.] +I heard disquieting news as I came hither. +The apparition in the Synagogue, +The miracle of the message and the death. +Susskind von Orb, what think'st thou of these things? + + +SUSSKIND. +I think, sir, we are in the hand of God, +I trust the Prince--your father and my friend. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Trust no man! flee! I have not come to-night +To little purpose. Your arch enemy, +The Governor of Salza, Henry Schnetzen, +Has won my father's ear. Since yester eve +He stops at Eisenach, begging of the Prince +The Jews' destruction. + + +SUSSKIND (calmly). + Schnetzen is my foe, +I know it, but I know a talisman, +Which at a word transmutes his hate to love. +Liebhaid, my child, look cheerly. What is this? +Harm dare not touch thee; the oppressor's curse, +Melts into blessing at thy sight. + + +LIEBHAID. + Not fear +Plucks at my heart-strings, father, though the air +Thickens with portents; 't is the thought of flight, +But no--I follow thee. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Thou shalt not miss +The value of a hair from thy home treasures. +All that thou lovest, Liebhaid, goes with thee. +Knowest thou, Susskind, Schnetzen's cause of hate? + + +SUSSKIND. +'T is rooted in an ancient error, born +During his feud with Landgrave Fritz the Bitten, +Your Highness' grandsire--ten years--twenty--back. +Misled to think I had betrayed his castle, +Who knew the secret tunnel to its courts, +He has nursed a baseless grudge, whereat I smile, +Sure to disarm him by the simple truth. +God grant me strength to utter it. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + You fancy +The rancor of a bad heart slow distilled +Through venomed years, so at a breath, dissolves. +O good old man, i' the world, not of the world! +Belike, himself forgets the doubtful core +Of this still-curdling, petrifying ooze. +Truth? why truth glances from the callous mass, +A spear against a rock. He hugs his hate, +His bed-fellow, his daily, life-long comrade; +Think you he has slept, ate, drank with it this while, +Now to forego revenge on such slight cause +As the revealed truth? + + +SUSSKIND. + You mistake my thought, +Great-hearted Prince, and justly--for I speak +In riddles, till God's time to make all clear. +When His day dawns, the blind shall see. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Forgive me, +If I, in wit and virtue your disciple, +Seem to instruct my master. Accident +Lifts me where I survey a broader field +Than wise men stationed lower. I spy peril, +Fierce flame invisible from the lesser peaks. +God's time is now. Delayed truth leaves a lie +Triumphant. If you harbor any secret, +Potent to force an ear that's locked to mercy, +In God's name, now disbosom it. + + +SUSSKIND. + Kind Heaven! +Would that my people's safety were assured +So is my child's! Where shall we turn? Where flee? +For all around us the Black Angel broods. +We step into the open jaws of death +If we go hence. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Better to fall beneath +The hand of God, than be cut off by man. + + +SUSSKIND. +We are trapped, the springe is set. Not ignorantly +I offered counsel in the Synagogue, +Quelled panic with authoritative calm, +But knowing, having weighed the opposing risks. +Our friends in Strasburg have been overmastered, +The imperial voice is drowned, the papal arm +Drops paralyzed--both, lifted for the truth; +We can but front with brave eyes, brow erect, +As is our wont, the fullness of our doom. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Then Meissen's sword champions your desperate cause. +I take my stand here where my heart is fixed. +I love your daughter--if her love consent, +I pray you, give me her to wife. + + +LIEBHAID. + Ah! + + +SUSSKIND. + Prince, +Let not this Saxon skin, this hair's gold fleece, +These Rhine-blue eyes mislead thee--she is alien. +To the heart's core a Jewess--prop of my house, +Soul of my soul--and I? a despised Jew. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Thy propped house crumbles; let my arm sustain +Its tottering base--thy light is on the wane, +Let me relume it. Give thy star to me, +Or ever pitch-black night engulf us all-- +Lend me your voice, Liebhaid, entreat for me. +Shall this prayer be your first that he denies? + + +LIEBHAID. +Father, my heart's desire is one with his. + + +SUSSKIND. +Is this the will of God? Amen! My children, +Be patient with me, I am full of trouble. +For you, heroic Prince, could aught enhance +Your love's incomparable nobility, +'T were the foreboding horror of this hour, +Wherein you dare flash forth its lightning-sword. +You reckon not, in the hot, splendid moment +Of great resolve, the cold insidious breath +Wherewith the outer world shall blast and freeze-- +But hark! I own a mystic amulet, +Which you delivering to your gracious father, +Shall calm his rage withal, and change his scorn +Of the Jew's daughter into pure affection. +I will go fetch it--though I drain my heart +Of its red blood, to yield this sacrifice. +[Exit SUSSKIND.] + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Have you no smile to welcome love with, Liebhaid? +Why should you tremble? + + +LIEBHAID. + Prince, I am afraid! +Afraid of my own heart, my unfathomed joy, +A blasphemy against my father's grief, +My people's agony. I dare be happy-- +So happy! in the instant's lull betwixt +The dazzle and the crash of doom. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + You read +The omen falsely; rather is your joy +The thrilling harbinger of general dawn. +Did you not tell me scarce a month agone, +When I chanced in on you at feast and prayer, +The holy time's bright legend? of the queen, +Strong, beautiful, resolute, who denied her race +To save her race, who cast upon the die +Of her divine and simple loveliness, +Her life, her soul,--and so redeemed her tribe. +You are my Esther--but I, no second tyrant, +Worship whom you adore, love whom you love! + + +LIEBHAID. +If I must die with morn, I thank my God, +And thee, my king, that I have lived this night. + + Enter SUSSKIND, carrying a jewelled casket. + + +SUSSKIND. +Here is the chest, sealed with my signet-ring, +A mystery and a treasure lies within, +Whose worth is faintly symboled by these gems, +Starring the case. Deliver it unopened, +Unto the Landgrave. Now, sweet Prince, good night. +Else will the Judengasse gates be closed. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Thanks, father, thanks. Liebhaid, my bride, good-night. +[He kisses her brow. SUSSKIND places his hands on the heads of +LIEBHAID and PRINCE WILLIAM.] + + +SUSSKIND. +Blessed, O Lord, art thou, who bringest joy +To bride and bridegroom. Let us thank the Lord. +[Curtain falls.] + + + + ACT II.--At Eisenach. + +SCENE I. + + A Room in the LANDGRAVE'S Palace. FREDERICK THE GRAVE and + HENRY SCHNETZEN. + + +LANDGRAVE. +Who tells thee of my son's love for the Jewess? + + +SCHNETZEN. +Who tells me? Ask the Judengasse walls, +The garrulous stones publish Prince William's visits +To his fair mistress. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Mistress? Ah, such sins +The Provost of St. George's will remit +For half a pound of coppers. + + +SCHNETZEN. + Think it not! +No light amour this, leaving shield unflecked; +He wooes the Jewish damsel as a knight +The lady of his heart. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Impossible! + +SCHNETZEN. +Things more impossible have chanced. Remember +Count Gleichen, doubly wived, who pined in Egypt, +There wed the Pasha's daughter Malachsala, +Nor blushed to bring his heathen paramour +Home to his noble wife Angelica, +Countess of Orlamund. Yea, and the Pope +Sanctioned the filthy sin. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Himself shall say it. +Ho, Gunther! (Enter a Lackey.) +Bid the Prince of Meissen here. +[Exit Lackey. The LANDGRAVE paces the stage in agitation.] + + Enter PRINCE WILLIAM. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Father, you called me? + + +LANDGRAVE. + Ay, when were you last +In Nordhausen? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + This morning I rode hence. + + +LANDGRAVE. +Were you at Susskind's house? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + I was, my liege. + + +LANDGRAVE. +I hear you entertain unseemly love +For the Jew's daughter. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Who has told thee this? + + +SCHNETZEN. +This I have told him. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Father, believe him not. +I swear by heaven 't is no unseemly love +Leads me to Susskind's house. + + +LANDGRAVE. + With what high title +Please you to qualify it? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + True, I love +Liebhaid von Orb, but 't is the honest passion +Wherewith a knight leads home his equal wife. + + +LANDGRAVE. +Great God! and thou wilt brag thy shame! Thou speakest +Of wife and Jewess in one breath! Wilt make +Thy princely name a stench in German nostrils? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Hold, father, hold! You know her--yes, a Jewess +In her domestic piety, her soul +Large, simple, splendid like a star, her heart +Suffused with Syrian sunshine--but no more-- +The aspect of a Princess of Thuringia, +Swan-necked, gold-haired, Madonna-eyed. I love her! +If you will quench this passion, take my life! +[He falls at his father's feet. FREDERICK, in a paroxysm of rage, +seizes his sword.] + + +SCHNETZEN. +He is your son! + + +LANDGRAVE. + Oh that he ne'er were born! +Hola! Halberdiers! Yeomen of the Guard! + + Enter Guardsmen. + +Bear off this prisoner! Let him sigh out +His blasphemous folly in the castle tower, +Until his hair be snow, his fingers claws. +[They seize and bear away PRINCE WILLIAM.] +Well, what's your counsel? + + +SCHNETZEN. + Briefly this, my lord. +The Jews of Nordhausen have brewed the Prince +A love-elixir--let them perish all! +[Tumult without. Singing of Hymns and Ringing of Church-bells. +The LANDGRAVE and SCHNETZEN go to the window.] + + +SONG* (without). + + The cruel pestilence arrives, + Cuts off a myriad human lives. + See the Flagellants' naked skin! + They scourge themselves for grievous sin. + Trembles the earth beneath God's breath, + The Jews shall all be burned to death. + + *A rhyme of the times. See Graetz's "History of the Jews," + page 374, vol. vii. + + +LANDGRAVE. +Look, foreign pilgrims! What an endless file! +Naked waist-upward. Blood is trickling down +Their lacerated flesh. What do they carry? + + +SCHNETZEN. +Their scourges--iron-pointed, leathern thongs, +Mark how they lash themselves--the strict Flagellants. +The Brothers of the Cross--hark to their cries! + + +VOICE FROM BELOW. +Atone, ye mighty! God is wroth! Expel +The enemies of heaven--raze their homes! +[Confused cries from below, which gradually die away in the +distance.] +Woe to God's enemies! Death to the Jews! +They poison all our wells--they bring the plague. +Kill them who killed our Lord! Their homes shall be +A wilderness--drown them in their own blood! +[The LANDGRAVE and SCHNETZEN withdraw from the window.] + + +SCHNETZEN. +Do not the people ask the same as I? +Is not the people's voice the voice of God? + + +LANDGRAVE. +I will consider. + + +SCHNETZEN. + Not too long, my liege. +The moment favors. Later 't were hard to show +Due cause to his Imperial Majesty, +For slaughtering the vassals of the Crown. +Two mighty friends are theirs. His holiness +Clement the Sixth and Kaiser Karl. + + +LANDGRAVE. + 'T were rash +Contending with such odds. + + +SCHNETZEN. + Courage, my lord. +These battle singly against death and fate. +Your allies are the sense and heart o' the world. +Priests warring for their Christ, nobles for gold, +And peoples for the very breath of life +Spoiled by the poison-mixers. Kaiser Karl +Lifts his lone voice unheard, athwart the roar +Of such a flood; the papal bull is whirled +An unconsidered rag amidst the eddies. + + +LANDGRAVE. +What credence lend you to the general rumor +Of the river poison? + + +SCHNETZEN. + Such as mine eyes avouch. +I have seen, yea touched the leathern wallet found +On the body of one from whom the truth was wrenched +By salutary torture. He confessed, +Though but a famulus of the master-wizard, +The horrible old Moses of Mayence, +He had flung such pouches in the Rhine, the Elbe, +The Oder, Danube--in a hundred brooks, +Until the wholesome air reeked pestilence; +'T was an ell long, filled with a dry, fine dust +Of rusty black and red, deftly compounded +Of powdered flesh of basilisks, spiders, frogs, +And lizards, baked with sacramental dough +In Christian blood. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Such goblin-tales may curdle +The veins of priest-rid women, fools, and children. +They are not for the ears of sober men. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Pardon me, Sire. I am a simple soldier. +My God, my conscience, and my suzerain, +These are my guides--blindfold I follow them. +If your keen royal wit pierce the gross web +Of common superstition--be not wroth +At your poor vassal's loyal ignorance. +Remember, too, Susskind retains your bonds. +The old fox will not press you; he would bleed +Against the native instinct of the Jew, +Rather his last gold doit and so possess +Your ease of mind, nag, chafe, and toy with it; +Abide his natural death, and other Jews +Less devilish-cunning, franklier Hebrew-viced, +Will claim redemption of your pledge. + + +LANDGRAVE. + How know you +That Susskind holds my bonds? + + +SCHNETZEN. + You think the Jews +Keep such things secret? Not a Jew but knows +Your debt exact--the sum and date of interest, +And that you visit Susskind, not for love, +But for his shekels. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Well, the Jews shall die. +This is the will of God. Whom shall I send +To bear my message to the council? + + +SCHNETZEN. + I +Am ever at your 'hest. To-morrow morn +Sees me in Nordhausen. + + +LANDGRAVE. + Come two hours hence. +I will deliver you the letter signed. +Make ready for your ride. + + +SCHNETZEN (kisses FREDERICK'S hand). + Farewell, my master. +(Aside.) +Ah, vengeance cometh late, Susskind von Orb, +But yet it comes! My wife was burned through thee, +Thou and thy children are consumed by me! +[Exit.] + + + +SCENE II. + + A Room in the Wartburg Monastery. PRINCESS MATHILDIS and + PRIOR PEPPERCORN. + + +PRIOR. +Be comforted, my daughter. Your lord's wisdom +Goes hand in hand with his known piety +Thus dealing with your son. To love a Jewess +Is flat contempt of Heaven--to ask in marriage, +Sheer spiritual suicide. Let be; +Justice must take its course. + + +PRINCESS. + Justice is murdered; +Oh slander not her corpse. For my son's fault, +A thousand innocents are doomed. Is that +God's justice? + + +PRIOR. + Yea, our liege is but his servant. +Did not He purge with fiery hail those twain +Blotches of festering sin, Gomorrah, Sodom? +The Jews are never innocent,--when Christ +Agonized on the Cross, they cried--"His blood +Be on our children's heads and ours!" I mark +A dangerous growing evil of these days, +Pity, misnamed--say, criminal indulgence +Of reprobates brow-branded by the Lord. +Shall we excel the Christ in charity? +Because his law is love, we tutor him +In mercy and reward his murderers? +Justice is blind and virtue is austere. +If the true passion brimmed our yearning hearts +The vision of the agony would loom +Fixed vividly between the day and us:-- +Nailed on the gaunt black Cross the divine form, +Wax-white and dripping blood from ankles, wrists, +The sacred ichor that redeems the world, +And crowded in strange shadow of eclipse, +Reviling Jews, wagging their heads accursed, +Sputtering blasphemy--who then would shrink +From holy vengeance? who would offer less +Heroic wrath and filial zeal to God +Than to a murdered father? + + +PRINCESS. + But my son +Will die with her he loves. + + +PRIOR. + Better to perish +In time than in eternity. No question +Pends here of individual life; our sight +Must broaden to embrace the scope sublime +Of this trans-earthly theme. The Jew survives +Sword, plague, fire, cataclysm--and must, since Christ +Cursed him to live till doomsday, still to be +A scarecrow to the nations. None the less +Are we beholden in Christ's name at whiles, +When maggot-wise Jews breed, infest, infect +Communities of Christians, to wash clean +The Church's vesture, shaking off the filth +That gathers round her skirts. A perilous germ! +Know you not, all the wells, the very air +The Jews have poisoned?--Through their arts alone +The Black Death scourges Christendom. + + +PRINCESS. + I know +All heinousness imputed by their foes. +Father, mistake me not: I urge no plea +To shield this hell-spawn, loathed by all who love +The lamb and kiss the Cross. I had not guessed +Such obscure creatures crawled upon my path, +Had not my son--I know not how misled-- +Deigned to ennoble with his great regard, +A sparkle midst the dust motes. SHE is sacred. +What is her tribe to me? Her kith and kin +May rot or roast--the Jews of Nordhausen +May hang, drown, perish like the Jews of France, +But she shall live--Liebhaid von Orb, the Jewess, +The Prince, my son, elects to love. + + +PRIOR. + Amen! +Washed in baptismal waters she shall be +Led like the clean-fleeced yeanling to the fold. +Trust me, my daughter--for through me the Church +Which is the truth, which is the life, doth speak. +Yet first 't were best essay to cure the Prince +Of this moon-fostered madness, bred, no doubt, +By baneful potions which these cunning knaves +Are skilled to mix. + + +PRINCESS. + Go visit him, dear father, +Where in the high tower mewed, a wing-clipped eagle, +His spirit breaks in cage. You are his master, +He is wont from childhood to hear wisdom fall +From your instructed lips. Tell him his mother +Rises not from her knees, till he is freed. + + +PRIOR. +Madam, I go. Our holy Church has healed +Far deadlier heart-wounds than a love-sick boy's. +Be of good cheer, the Prince shall live to bless +The father's rigor who kept pure of blot +A 'scutcheon more unsullied than the sun. + + +PRINCESS. +Thanks and farewell. + + +PRIOR. + Farewell. God send thee peace! +[Exeunt.] + + + +SCENE III. + + A mean apartment in one of the Towers of the Landgrave's Palace. + PRINCE WILLIAM discovered seated at the window. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +The slow sun sets; with lingering, large embrace +He folds the enchanted hill; then like a god +Strides into heaven behind the purple peak. +Oh beautiful! In the clear, rayless air, +I see the chequered vale mapped far below, +The sky-paved streams, the velvet pasture-slopes, +The grim, gray cloister whose deep vesper bell +Blends at this height with tinkling, homebound herds! +I see--but oh, how far!--the blessed town +Where Liebhaid dwells. Oh that I were yon star +That pricks the West's unbroken foil of gold, +Bright as an eye, only to gaze on her! +How keen it sparkles o'er the Venusburg! +When brown night falls and mists begin to live, +Then will the phantom hunting-train emerge, +Hounds straining, black fire-eyeballed, breathless steeds, +Spurred by wild huntsmen, and unhallowed nymphs, +And at their head the foam-begotten witch, +Of soul-destroying beauty. Saints of heaven! +Preserve mine eyes from such unholy sight! +How all unlike the base desire which leads +Misguided men to that infernal cave, +Is the pure passion that exalts my soul +Like a religion! Yet Christ pardon me +If this be sin to thee! +[He takes his lute, and begins to sing. Enter with a lamp Steward +of the Castle, followed by PRIOR PEPPERCORN. Steward lays down the +lamp and exit.] +Good even, father! + + +PRIOR. + Benedicite! +Our bird makes merry his dull bars with song, +Yet would not penitential psalms accord +More fitly with your sin than minstrels' lays? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +I know no blot upon my life's fair record. + + +PRIOR. +What is it to wanton with a Christ-cursed Jewess, +Defy thy father and pollute thy name, +And fling to the ordures thine immortal soul? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Forbear! thy cowl's a helmet, thy serge frock +Invulnerable as brass--yet I am human, +Thou, priest, art still a man. + + +PRIOR. + Pity him, Heaven! +To what a pass their draughts have brought the mildest, +Noblest of princes! Softly, my son; be ruled +By me, thy spiritual friend and father. +Thou hast been drugged with sense-deranging potions, +Thy blood set boiling and thy brain askew; +When these thick fumes subside, thou shalt awake +To bless the friend who gave thy madness bounds. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Madness! Yea, as the sane world goes, I am mad. +What else to help the helpless, to uplift +The low, to adore the good, the beautiful, +To live, battle, suffer, die for truth, for love! +But that is wide of the question. Let me hear +What you are charged to impart--my father's will. + +PRIOR. +Heart-cleft by his dear offspring's shame, he prays +Your reason be restored, your wayward sense +Renew its due allegiance. For his son +He, the good parent, weeps--hot drops of gall, +Wrung from a spirit seldom eased by tears. +But for his honor pricked, the Landgrave takes +More just and general vengeance. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + In the name of God, +What has he done to HER? + + +PRIOR. + Naught, naught,--as yet. +Sweet Prince, be calm; you leap like flax to flame. +You nest within your heart a cockatrice, +Pluck it from out your bosom and breathe pure +Of the filthy egg. The Landgrave brooks no more +The abomination that infects his town. +The Jews of Nordhausen are doomed. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Alack! +Who and how many of that harmless tribe, +Those meek and pious men, have been elected +To glut with innocent blood the oppressor's wrath? + + +PRIOR. +Who should go free where equal guilt is shared? +Frederick is just--they perish all at once, +Generous moreover--for in their mode of death +He grants them choice. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + My father had not lost +The human semblance when I saw him last. +Nor can he be divorced in this short space +From his shrewd wit. How shall he make provision +For the vast widowed, orphaned host this deed +Burdens the state withal? + + +PRIOR. + Oh excellent! +This is the crown of folly, topping all! +Forgive me, Prince, when I gain breath to point +Your comic blunder, you will laugh with me. +Patience--I'll draw my chin as long as yours. +Well, 't was my fault--one should be accurate-- +Jews, said I? when I meant Jews, Jewesses, +And Jewlings! all betwixt the age +Of twenty-four hours, and of five score years. +Of either sex, of every known degree, +All the contaminating vermin purged +With one clean, searching blast of wholesome fire. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +O Christ, disgraced, insulted! Horrible man, +Remembered be your laugh in lowest hell, +Dragging you to the nether pit! Forgive me; +You are my friend--take me from here--unbolt +Those iron doors--I'll crawl upon my knees +Unto my father--I have much to tell him. +For but the freedom of one hour, sweet Prior, +I'll brim the vessels of the Church with gold. + + +PRIOR. +Boy! your bribes touch not, nor your curses shake +The minister of Christ. Yet I will bear +Your message to the Landgrave. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Whet your tongue +Keen as the archangel's blade of truth--your voice +Be as God's thunder, and your heart one blaze-- +Then can you speak my cause. With me, it needs +No plausive gift; the smitten head, stopped throat, +Blind eyes and silent suppliance of sorrow +Persuade beyond all eloquence. Great God! +Here while I rage and beat against my bars, +The infernal fagots may be stacked for her, +The hell-spark kindled. Go to him, dear Prior, +Speak to him gently, be not too much moved, +'Neath its rude case you had ever a soft heart, +And he is stirred by mildness more than passion. +Recall to him her round, clear, ardent eyes, +The shower of sunshine that's her hair, the sheen +Of the cream-white flesh--shall these things serve as fuel? +Tell him that when she heard once he was wounded, +And how he bled and anguished; at the tale +She wept for pity. + + +PRIOR. + If her love be true +She will adore her lover's God, embrace +The faith that marries you in life and death. +This promise with the Landgrave would prevail +More than all sobs and pleadings. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Save her, save her! +If any promise, vow, or oath can serve. +Oh trusting, tranquil Susskind, who estopped +Your ears forewarned, bandaged your visioned eyes, +To woo destruction! Stay! did he not speak +Of amulet or talisman? These horrors +Have crowded out my wits. Yea, the gold casket! +What fixed serenity beamed from his brow, +Laying the precious box within my hands! +[He brings from the shelf the casket, and hands it to the Prior.] +Deliver this unto the Prince my father, +Nor lose one vital moment. What it holds, +I guess not--but my light heart whispers me +The jewel safety's locked beneath its lid. + + +PRIOR. +First I must foil such devil's tricks as lurk +In its gem-crusted cabinet. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Away! +Deliverance posts on your return. I feel it. +For your much comfort thanks. Good-night. + + +PRIOR. + Good-night. +[Exit.] + + + + ACT III. + + A cell in the Wartburg Monastery. Enter PRIOR PEPPERCORN with + the casket. + + +PRIOR. +So! Glittering shell where doubtless shines concealed +An orient treasure fit to bribe a king, +Ransom a prince and buy him for a son. +I have baptized thee now before the altar, +Effaced the Jew's contaminating touch, +And I am free to claim the Church's tithe +From thy receptacle. +[He is about to unlock the casket, when enters Lay-Brother, and he +hastily conceals it.] + + +LAY-BROTHER. + Peace be thine, father! + + +PRIOR. +Amen! and thine. What's new? + + +LAY-BROTHER. + A strange Flagellant +Fresh come to Wartburg craves a word with thee. + + +PRIOR. +Bid him within. +[Exit Lay-Brother. PRIOR places the casket in a Cabinet.] + Patience! No hour of the day +Brings freedom to the priest. + + Reenter Lay-Brother ushering in NORDMANN, and exit. + + Brother, all hail! +Blessed be thou who comest in God's name! + + +NORDMANN. +May the Lord grant thee thine own prayer fourfold! + + +PRIOR. +What is thine errand? + + +NORDMANN. + Look at me, my father. +Long since you called me friend. +[The PRIOR looks at him attentively, while an expression of wonder +and terror gradually overspreads his face.] + + +PRIOR. + Almighty God! +The grave gives up her dead. Thou canst not be-- + + +NORDMANN. +Nordmann of Nordmannstein, the Knight of Treffurt. + + +PRIOR. +He was beheaded years agone. + + +NORDMANN. + His death +Had been decreed, but in his stead a squire +Clad in his garb and masked, paid bloody forfeit. +A loyal wretch on whom the Prince wreaked vengeance, +Rather than publish the true bird had flown. + + +PRIOR. +Does Frederick know thou art in Eisenach? + + +NORDMANN. +Who would divine the Knight of Nordmannstein +In the Flagellants' weeds? From land to land, +From town to town, we cry, "Death to the Jews! +Hep! hep! "Hierosolyma est perdita!" +They die like rats; in Gotha they are burned; +Two of the devil brutes in Chatelard, +Child-murderers, wizards, breeders of the Plague, +Had the truth squeezed from them with screws and racks, +All with explicit date, place, circumstance, +And written as it fell from dying lips +By scriveners of the law. On their confession +The Jews of Savoy were destroyed. To-morrow noon +The holy flames shall dance in Nordhausen. + + +PRIOR. +Your zeal bespeaks you fair. In your deep eyes +A mystic fervor shines; yet your scarred flesh +And shrunken limbs denote exhausted nature, +Collapsing under discipline. + + +NORDMANN. + Speak not +Of the degrading body and its pangs. +I am all zeal, all energy, all spirit. +Jesus was wroth at me, at all the world, +For our indulgence of the flesh, our base +Compounding with his enemies the Jews. +But at Madonna Mary's intercession, +He charged an angel with this gracious word, +"Whoso will scourge himself for forty days, +And labor towards the clean extermination +Of earth's corrupting vermin, shall be saved." +Oh, what vast peace this message brought my soul! +I have learned to love the ecstasy of pain. +When the sweat stands upon my flesh, the blood +Throbs in my bursting veins, my twisted muscles +Are cramped with agony, I seem to crawl +Anigh his feet who suffered on the Cross. + + +PRIOR. +O all transforming Time! Can this be he, +The iron warrior of a decade since, +The gallant youth of earlier years, whose pranks +And reckless buoyancy of temper flashed +Clear sunshine through my gloom? + + +NORDMANN. + I am unchanged +(Save that the spirit of grace has fallen on me). +Urged by one motive through these banished years, +Fed by one hope, awake to realize +One living dream--my long delayed revenge. +You saw the day when Henry Schnetzen's castle +Was razed with fire? + + +PRIOR. + I saw it. + + +NORDMANN. + Schnetzen's wife, +Three days a mother, perished. + + +PRIOR. + And his child? + + +NORDMANN. +His child was saved. + + +PRIOR. + By whom? + + +NORDMANN. + By the same Jew +Who had betrayed the Castle. + + +PRIOR. + Susskind von Orb? + + +NORDMANN. +Susskind von Orb! and Schnetzen's daughter lives +As the Jew's child within the Judengasse. + + +PRIOR (eagerly). +What proof hast thou of this? + + +NORDMANN. + Proof of these eyes! +I visited von Orb to ask a loan. +There saw I such a maiden as no Jew +Was ever blessed withal since Jesus died. +White as a dove, with hair like golden floss, +Eyes like an Alpine lake. The haughty line +Of brow imperial, high bridged nose, fine chin, +Seemed like the shadow cast upon the wall, +Where Lady Schnetzen stood. + + + +PRIOR. + Why hast thou ne'er +Discovered her to Schnetzen? + + +NORDMANN. + He was my friend. +I shared with him thirst, hunger, sword, and fire. +But he became a courtier. When the Margrave +Sent me his second challenge to the field, +His messenger was Schnetzen! 'Mongst his knights, +The apple of his eye was Henry Schnetzen. +He was the hound that hunted me to death. +He stood by Frederick's side when I was led, +Bound, to the presence. I denounced him coward, +He smote me on the cheek. Christ! it stings yet. +He hissed--"My liege, let Henry Nordmann hang! +He is no knight, for he receives a blow, +Nor dare avenge it!" My gyved wrists moved not, +No nerve twitched in my face, although I felt +Flame leap there from my heart, then flying back, +Leave it cold-bathed with deathly ooze--my soul +In silence took her supreme vow of hate. + + +PRIOR. +Praise be to God that thou hast come to-day. +To-morrow were too late. Hast thou not heard +Frederick sends Schnetzen unto Nordhausen, +With fire and torture for the Jews? + + +NORDMANN. + So! Henry Schnetzen +Shall be the Jews' destroyer? Ah! + + +PRIOR. + One moment. +Mayhap this box which Susskind sends the Prince +Reveals more wonders. +[He brings forth the Casket from the Cabinet, opens it, and +discovers a golden cross and a parchment which he hastily +overlooks.] + Hark! your word's confirmed +Blessed be Christ, our Lord! (reads). + +"I Susskind von Orb of Nordhausen, swear by the unutterable Name, +that on the day when the Castle of Salza was burned, I rescued the +infant daughter of Henry Schnetzen from the flames. I purposed +restoring her to her father, but when I returned to Nordhausen, I +found my own child lying on her bier, and my wife in fevered frenzy +calling for her babe. I sought the leech, who counselled me to +show the Christian child to the bereaved mother as her own. The +pious trick prevailed; the fever broke, the mother was restored. +But never would she part with the child, even when she had learned +to whom it belonged, and until she was gathered with the dead--may +peace be with her soul!--she fostered in our Jewish home the +offspring of the Gentile knight. Then again would I have yielded +the girl to her parent, but Schnetzen was my foe, and I feared the +haughty baron would disown the daughter who came from the hands of +the Jew. Now however the maiden's temporal happiness demands that +she be acknowledged by her rightful father. Let him see what I +have written. As a token, behold this golden cross, bound by the +Lady Schnetzen round the infant's neck. May the God of Abraham, +Isaac, and Jacob redeem and bless me as I have writ the truth." + + +PRIOR. +I thank the Saints that this has come betimes. +Thou shalt renounce thy hate. Vengeance is mine, +The Lord hath said. + + +NORDMANN. + O all-transforming Time! +Is this meek, saintly-hypocrite, the firm, +Ambitious, resolute Reinhard Peppercorn, +Terror of Jews and beacon of the Church? +Look, you, I have won the special grace of Christ, +He knows through what fierce anguish! Now he leans +Out of his heaven to whisper in mine ear, +And reach me my revenge. He makes my cause +His own--and I shall fail upon these heights, +Sink from the level of a hate sublime, +To puerile pity! + + +PRIOR. + Be advised. You hold +Your enemy's living heart within your hands. +This secret is far costlier than you dreamed, +For Frederick's son wooes Schnetzen's daughter. See, +A hundred delicate springs your wit may move, +Your puppets are the Landgrave and the Prince, +The Governor of Salza and the Jews. +You may recover station, wealth, and honor, +Selling your secret shrewdly; while rash greed +Of clumsy vengeance may but drag you down +In the wild whirl of universal ruin. + + +NORDMANN. +Christ teach me whom to trust! I would not spill +One drop from out this brimming glorious cup +For which my parched heart pants. I will consider. + + +PRIOR. +Pardon me now, if I break off our talk. +Let all rest as it stands until the dawn. +I have many orisons before the light. + + +NORDMANN. +Good-night, true friend. Devote a prayer to me. +(Aside.) I will outwit you, serpent, though you glide +Athwart the dark, noiseless and swift as fate. +[Exit]. + + + +SCENE II. + + On the road to Nordhausen. Moonlit, rocky landscape. On the + right between high, white cliffs a narrow stream spanned by a + wooden bridge. Thick bushes and trees. Enter PRINCE WILLIAM + and PAGE. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Is this the place where we shall find fresh steeds? +Would I had not dismounted! + + +PAGE. + Nay, sir; beyond +The Werra bridge the horses wait for us. +These rotten planks would never bear their weight. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +When I am Landgrave these things shall be cared for. +This is an ugly spot for travellers +To loiter in. How swift the water runs, +Brawling above our voices. Human cries +Would never reach Liborius' convent yonder, +Perched on the sheer, chalk cliff. I think of peril, +From my excess of joy. My spirit chafes, +She that would breast broad-winged the air, must halt +On stumbling mortal limbs. Look, thither, boy, +How the black shadows of the tree-boles stripe +The moon-blanched bridge and meadow. + + +PAGE. + Sir, what's that? +Yon stir and glitter in the bush? + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + The moon, +Pricking the dewdrops, plays fantastic tricks +With objects most familiar. Look again, +And where thou sawst the steel-blue flicker glint, +Thou findst a black, wet leaf. + + +PAGE. + No, no! O God! +Your sword, sir! Treason! +[Four armed masked men leap from out the bush, seize, bind, and +overmaster, after a brief but violent resistance, the Prince and +his servant.] + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. + Who are ye, villains? lying +In murderous ambush for the Prince of Meissen? +If you be knights, speak honorably your names, +And I will combat you in knightly wise. +If ye be robbers, name forthwith your ransom. +Let me but speed upon my journey now. +By Christ's blood! I beseech you, let me go! +Ho! treason! murder! help! +[He is dragged off struggling. Exeunt omnes.] + + + +SCENE III. + + Nordhausen. A room in SUSSKIND's house. LIEBHAID and CLAIRE. + + +LIEBHAID. +Say on, poor girl, if but to speak these horrors +Revive not too intense a pang. + + +CLAIRE. + Not so. +For all my woes seem here to merge their flood +Into a sea of infinite repose. +Through France our journey led, as I have told, +From desolation unto desolation. +Naught stayed my father's course--sword, storm, flame, plague, +Exhaustion of the eighty year old frame, +O'ertaxed beyond endurance. Once, once only, +His divine force succumbed. 'T was at day's close, +And all the air was one discouragement +Of April snow-flakes. I was drenched, cold, sick, +With weariness and hunger light of head, +And on the open road, suddenly turned +The whole world like the spinning flakes of snow. +My numb hand slipped from his, and all was blank. +His beard, his breath upon my brow, his tears +Scalding my cheek hugged close against his breast, +And in my ear deep groans awoke me. "God!" +I heard him cry, "try me not past my strength. +No prophet I, a blind, old dying man!" +Gently I drew his face to mine, and kissed, +Whispering courage--then his spirit broke +Utterly; shattered were his wits, I feared. +But past is past; he is at peace, and I +Find shelter from the tempest. Tell me rather +Of your serene life. + + +LIEBHAID. + Happiness is mute. +What record speaks of placid, golden days, +Matched each with each as twins? Till yester eve +My life was simple as a song. At whiles +Dark tales have reached us of our people's wrongs, +Strange, far-off anguish, furrowing with fresh care +My father's brow, draping our home with gloom. +We were still blessed; the Landgrave is his friend-- +The Prince--my Prince--dear Claire, ask me no more! +My adored enemy, my angel-fiend, +Splitting my heart against my heart! O God, +How shall I pray for strength to love him less +Than mine own soul? + + +CLAIRE. + What mean these contrary words? +These passionate tears? + + +LIEBHAID. + Brave girl, who art inured +To difficult privation and rude pain, +What good shall come forswearing kith and God, +To follow the allurements of the heart? + + +CLAIRE. +Duty wears one face, but a thousand masks. +Thy feet she leads to glittering peaks, while mine +She guides midst brambled roadways. Not the first +Art thou of Israel's women, chosen of God, +To rule o'er rulers. I remember me +A verse my father often would repeat +Out of our sacred Talmud: "Every time +The sun, moon, stars begin again their course, +They hesitate, trembling and filled with shame, +Blush at the blasphemous worship offered them, +And each time God's voice thunders, crying out, +On with your duty!" + + Enter REUBEN. + + +REUBEN. + Sister, we are lost! +The streets are thronged with panic-stricken folk. +Wild rumors fill the air. Two of our tribe, +Young Mordecai, as I hear, and old Baruch, +Seized by the mob, were dragged towards Eisenach, +Cruelly used, left to bleed out their lives, +In the wayside ditch at night. This morn, betimes, +The iron-hearted Governor of Salza +Rides furious into Nordhausen; his horse, +Spurred past endurance, drops before the gate. +The Council has been called to hear him read +The Landgrave's message,--all men say, 'tis death +Unto our race. + + +LIEBHAID. + Where is our father, Reuben? + + +REUBEN. +With Rabbi Jacob. Through the streets they walk, +Striving to quell the terror. Ah, too late! +Had he but heeded the prophetic voice, +This warning angel led to us in vain! + + +LIEBHAID. +Brother, be calm. Man your young heart to front +Whatever ills the Lord afflicts us with. +What does Prince William? Hastes he not to aid? + + +REUBEN. +None know his whereabouts. Some say he's held +Imprisoned by the Landgrave. Others tell +While he was posting with deliverance +To Nordhausen, in bloody Schnetzen's wake, +He was set upon by ruffians--kidnapped--killed. +What do I know--hid till our ruin's wrought. +[LIEBHAID swoons.] + + +CLAIRE. +Hush, foolish boy. See how your rude words hurt. +Look up, sweet girl; take comfort. + + +REUBEN. + Pluck up heart: +Dear sister, pardon me; he lives, he lives! + + +LIEBHAID. +God help me! Shall my heart crack for love's loss +That meekly bears my people's martyrdom? +He lives--I feel it--to live or die with me. +I love him as my soul--no more of that. +I am all Israel's now--till this cloud pass, +I have no thought, no passion, no desire, +Save for my people. + + Enter SUSSKIND. + + +SUSSKIND. + Blessed art thou, my child! +This is the darkest hour before the dawn. +Thou art the morning-star of Israel. +How dear thou art to me--heart of my heart, +Mine, mine, all mine to-day! the pious thought, +The orient spirit mine, the Jewish soul. +The glowing veins that sucked life-nourishment +From Hebrew mother's milk. Look at me, Liebhaid, +Tell me you love me. Pity me, my God! +No fiercer pang than this did Jephthah know. + + +LIEBHAID. +Father, what wild and wandering words are these? +Is all hope lost? + + +SUSSKIND. + Nay, God is good to us. +I am so well assured the town is safe, +That I can weep my private loss--of thee. +An ugly dream I had, quits not my sense, +That you, made Princess of Thuringia, +Forsook your father, and forswore your race. +Forgive me, Liebhaid, I am calm again, +We must be brave--I who besought my tribe +To bide their fate in Nordhausen, and you +Whom God elects for a peculiar lot. +With many have I talked; some crouched at home, +Some wringing hands about the public ways. +I gave all comfort. I am very weary. +My children, we had best go in and pray, +Solace and safety dwell but in the Lord. +[Exeunt.] + + + + ACT IV. + +SCENE I. + + The City Hall at Nordhausen. Deputies and Burghers assembling. + To the right, at a table near the President's chair, is seated + the Public Scrivener. Enter DIETRICH VON TETTENBORN, and HENRY + SCHNETZEN with an open letter in his hand. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Didst hear the fellow's words who handed it? +I asked from whom it came, he spoke by rote, +"The pepper bites, the corn is ripe for harvest, +I come from Eisenach." 'T is some tedious jest. + + +TETTENBORN. +Doubtless your shrewd friend Prior Peppercorn +Masks here some warning. Ask the scrivener +To help us to its contents. + + +SCHNETZEN (to the clerk). + Read me these. + + +SCRIVENER (reads). + +"Beware, Lord Henry Schnetzen, of Susskind's lying tongue! He will +thrust a cuckoo's egg into your nest. + [Signed] ONE WHO KNOWS." + + +SCHNETZEN. +A cuckoo's egg! that riddle puzzles me; +But this I know. Schnetzen is no man's dupe, +Much less a Jew's. +[SCHNETZEN and VON TETTENBORN take their seats side by side.] + + +TETTENBORN. +Knights, counsellors and burghers! +Sir Henry Schnetzen, Governor of Salza, +Comes on grave mission from His Highness Frederick, +Margrave of Meissen, Landgrave of Thuringia, +Our town's imperial Patron and Protector. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Gentles, I greet you in the Landgrave's name, +The honored bearer of his princely script, +Sealed with his signet. Read, good Master Clerk. +[He hands a parchment to the Scrivener, who reads aloud]: + + Lord President and Deputies of the town of Nordhausen! Know that +we, Frederick Margrave of Meissen, and Landgrave of Thuringia, +command to be burned all the Jews within our territories as far +as our lands extend, on account of the great crime they have +committed against Christendom in throwing poison into the wells, +of the truth of which indictment we have absolute knowledge. +Therefore we admonish you to have the Jews killed in honor of +God, so that Christendom be not enfeebled by them. Whatever +responsibility you incur, we will assume with our Lord the Emperor, +and with all other lords. Know also that we send to you Henry +Schnetzen, our Governor of Salza, who shall publicly accuse your +Jews of the above-mentioned crime. Therefore we beseech you to +help him to do justice upon them, and we will singularly reward +your good will.* + + Given at Eisenach, the Thursday after St. Walpurgis, under our +secret seal. + + *This is an authentic document. + + +A COUNSELLOR (DIETHER VON WERTHER). +Fit silence welcomes this unheard-of wrong! +So! Ye are men--free, upright, honest men, +Not hired assassins? I half doubted it, +Seeing you lend these infamous words your ears. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Consider, gentlemen of Nordhausen, +Ere ye give heed to the rash partisan. +Ye cross the Landgrave--well? he crosses you. +It may be I shall ride to Nordhausen, +Not with a harmless script, but with a sword, +And so denounce the town for perjured vow. +What was the Strasburg citizens' reward +Who championed these lost wretches, in the face +Of King and Kaiser--three against the world, +Conrad von Winterthur the Burgomaster, +Deputy Gosse Sturm, and Peter Schwarber, +Master Mechanic? These leagued fools essayed +To stand between the people's sacred wrath, +And its doomed object. Well, the Jews, no less, +Were rooted from the city neck and crop, +And their three friends degraded from their rank +I' the city council, glad to save their skins. +The Jews are foes to God. Our Holy Father +Thunders his ban from Rome against all such +As aid the poisoners. Your oath to God, +And to the Prince enjoins--Death to the Jews. + + +A BURGHER (REINHARD ROLAPP). +Why all this vain debate? The Landgrave's brief +Affirms the Jews fling poison in the wells. +Shall we stand by and leave them unmolested, +Till they have made our town a wilderness? +I say, Death to the Jews! + + +A BURGHER (HUGO SCHULTZ). + My lord and brethren, +I have scant gift of speech, ye are all my elders. +Yet hear me for truth's sake, and liberty's. +The Landgrave of Thuringia is our patron, +True--and our town's imperial Governor, +But are we not free burghers? Shall we not +Debate and act in freedom? If Lord Schnetzen +Will force our council with the sword--enough! +We are not frightened schoolboys crouched beneath +The master's rod, but men who bear the sword +As brave as he. By this grim messenger, +Send back this devilish missive. Say to Frederick +Nordhausen never was enfeoffed to him. +Prithee, Lord President, bid Henry Schnetzen +Withdraw awhile, that we may all take counsel, +According to the hour's necessity, +As free men, whom nor fear nor favor swerves. + + +TETTENBORN. +Bold youth, you err. True, Nordhausen is free, +And God be witness, we for fear or favor, +Would never shed the blood of innocence. +But here the Prince condemns the Jews to death +For capital crime. Who sees a snake must kill, +Ere it spit fatal venom. I, too, say +Death to the Jews + + +ALL. + Death to the Jews! God wills it! + + +TETTENBORN. +Give me your voices in the urn. +(The votes are taken.) One voice +For mercy, all the rest for death. (To an Usher.) + Go thou +To the Jews' quarter; bid Susskind von Orb, +And Rabbi Jacob hither to the Senate, +To hear the Landgrave's and the town's decree. +[Exit Usher.] +(To Schnetzen.) What learn you of this evil through the State? + + +SCHNETZEN. +It swells to monstrous bulk. In many towns, +Folk build high ramparts round the wells and springs. +In some they shun the treacherous sparkling brooks, +To drink dull rain-water, or melted snow, +In mountain districts. Frederick has been patient, +And too long clement, duped by fleece-cloaked wolves. +But now his subjects' clamor rouses him +To front the general peril. As I hear, +A fiendish and far-reaching plot involves +All Christian thrones and peoples. These vile vermin, +Burrowing underneath society, +Have leagued with Moors in Spain, with heretics +Too plentiful--Christ knows! in every land, +And planned a subterraneous, sinuous scheme, +To overthrow all Christendom. But see, +Where with audacious brows, and steadfast mien, +They enter, bold as innocence. Now listen, +For we shall hear brave falsehoods. + + Enter SUSSKIND VON ORB and RABBI JACOB. + + +TETTENBORN. + Rabbi Jacob, +And thou, Susskind von Orb, bow down, and learn +The Council's pleasure. You the least despised +By true believers, and most reverenced +By your own tribe, we grace with our free leave +To enter, yea, to lift your voices here, +Amid these wise and honorable men, +If ye find aught to plead, that mitigates +The just severity of your doom. Our prince, +Frederick the Grave, Patron of Nordhausen, +Ordains that all the Jews within his lands, +For the foul crime of poisoning the wells, +Bringing the Black Death upon Christendom, +Shall be consumed with flame. + + +RABBI JACOB (springing forward and clasping his hands). + I' the name of God, +Your God and ours, have mercy! + + +SUSSKIND. + Noble lords, +Burghers, and artisans of Nordhausen, +Wise, honorable, just, God-fearing men, +Shall ye condemn or ever ye have heard? +Sure, one at least owns here the close, kind name +Of Brother--unto him I turn. At least +Some sit among you who have wedded wives, +Bear the dear title and the precious charge +Of Husband--unto these I speak. Some here, +Are crowned, it may be, with the sacred name +Of Father--unto these I pray. All, all +Are sons--all have been children, all have known +The love of parents--unto these I cry: +Have mercy on us, we are innocent, +Who are brothers, husbands, fathers, sons as ye! +Look you, we have dwelt among you many years, +Led thrifty, peaceable, well-ordered lives. +Who can attest, who prove we ever wrought +Or ever did devise the smallest harm, +Far less this fiendish crime against the State? +Rather let those arise who owe the Jews +Some debt of unpaid kindness, profuse alms, +The Hebrew leech's serviceable skill, +Who know our patience under injury, +And ye would see, if all stood bravely forth, +A motley host, led by the Landgrave's self, +Recruited from all ranks, and in the rear, +The humblest, veriest wretch in Nordhausen. +We know the Black Death is a scourge of God. +Is not our flesh as capable of pain, +Our blood as quick envenomed as your own? +Has the Destroying Angel passed the posts +Of Jewish doors--to visit Christian homes? +We all are slaves of one tremendous Hour. +We drink the waters which our enemies say +We spoil with poison,--we must breathe, as ye, +The universal air,--we droop, faint, sicken, +From the same causes to the selfsame end. +Ye are not strangers to me, though ye wear +Grim masks to-day--lords, knights and citizens, +Few do I see whose hand has pressed not mine, +In cordial greeting. Dietrich von Tettenborn, +If at my death my wealth be confiscate +Unto the State, bethink you, lest she prove +A harsher creditor than I have been. +Stout Meister Rolapp, may you never again +Languish so nigh to death that Simon's art +Be needed to restore your lusty limbs. +Good Hugo Schultz--ah! be those blessed tears +Remembered unto you in Paradise! +Look there, my lords, one of your council weeps, +If you be men, why, then an angel sits +On yonder bench. You have good cause to weep, +You who are Christian, and disgraced in that +Whereof you made your boast. I have no tears. +A fiery wrath has scorched their source, a voice +Shrills through my brain--"Not upon us, on them +Fall everlasting woe, if this thing be!" + + +SCHNETZEN. +My lords of Nordhausen, shall ye be stunned +With sounding words? Behold the serpent's skin, +Sleek-shining, clear as sunlight; yet his tooth +Holds deadly poison. Even as the Jews +Did nail the Lord of heaven on the Cross, +So will they murder all his followers, +When once they have the might. Beware, beware! + + +SUSSKIND. +So YOU are the accuser, my lord Schnetzen? +Now I confess, before you I am guilty. +You are in all this presence, the one man +Whom any Jew hath wronged--and I that Jew. +Oh, my offence is grievous; punish me +With the utmost rigor of the law, for theft +And violence, whom ye deemed an honest man, +But leave my tribe unharmed! I yield my hands +Unto your chains, my body to your fires; +Let one life serve for all. + + +SCHNETZEN. + You hear, my lords, +How the prevaricating villain shrinks +From the absolute truth, yet dares not front his Maker +With the full damnable lie hot on his lips. +Not thou alone, my private foe, shalt die, +But all thy race. Thee had my vengeance reached, +Without appeal to Prince or citizen. +Silence! my heart is cuirassed as my breast. + + +RABBI JACOB. +Bear with us, gracious lords! My friend is stunned. +He is an honest man. Even I, as 't were, +Am stupefied by this surprising news. +Yet, let me think--it seems it is not new, +This is an ancient, well-remembered pain. +What, brother, came not one who prophesied +This should betide exactly as it doth? +That was a shrewd old man! Your pardon, lords, +I think you know not just what you would do. +You say the Jews shall burn--shall burn you say; +Why, good my lords, the Jews are not a flock +Of gallows-birds, they are a colony +Of kindly, virtuous folk. Come home with me; +I'll show you happy hearths, glad roofs, pure lives. +Why, some of them are little quick-eyed boys, +Some, pretty, ungrown maidens--children's children +Of those who called me to the pastorate. +And some are beautiful tall girls, some, youths +Of marvellous promise, some are old and sick, +Amongst them there be mothers, infants, brides, +Just like your Christian people, for all the world. +Know ye what burning is? Hath one of you +Scorched ever his soft flesh, or singed his beard, +His hair, his eyebrows--felt the keen, fierce nip +Of the pungent flame--and raises not his voice +To stop this holocaust? God! 't is too horrible! +Wake me, my friends, from this terrific dream. + + +SUSSKIND. +Courage, my brother. On our firmness hangs +The dignity of Israel. Sir Governor, +I have a secret word to speak with you. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Ye shall enjoy with me the jest. These knaves +Are apt to quick invention as in crime. +Speak out--I have no secrets from my peers. + + +SUSSKIND. +My lord, what answer would you give your Christ +If peradventure, in this general doom +You sacrifice a Christian? Some strayed dove +Lost from your cote, among our vultures caged? +Beware, for midst our virgins there is one +Owes kinship nor allegiance to our tribe. +For her dear sake be pitiful, my lords, +Have mercy on our women! Spare at least +My daughter Liebhaid, she is none of mine! +She is a Christian! + + +SCHNETZEN. + Just as I foretold! +The wretches will forswear the sacred'st ties, +Cringing for life. Serpents, ye all shall die. +So wills the Landgrave; so the court affirms. +Your daughter shall be first, whose wanton arts +Have brought destruction on a princely house. + + +SUSSKIND. +My lord, be moved. You kill your flesh and blood. +By Adonai I swear, your dying wife +Entrusted to these arms her child. 'T was I +Carried your infant from your burning home. +Lord Schnetzen, will you murder your own child? + + +SCHNETZEN. +Ha, excellent! I was awaiting this. +Thou wilt inoculate our knightly veins +With thy corrupted Jewish blood. Thou 'lt foist +This adder on my bosom. Henry Schnetzen +Is no weak dupe, whom every lie may start. +Make ready, Jew, for death--and warn thy tribe. + + +SUSSKIND (kneeling). +Is there a God in heaven? I who ne'er knelt +Until this hour to any man on earth, +Tyrant, before thee I abase myself. +If one red drop of human blood still flow +In thy congealed veins, if thou e'er have known +Touch of affection, the blind natural instinct +Of common kindred, even beasts partake, +Thou man of frozen stone, thou hollow statue, +Grant me one prayer, that thou wilt look on her. +Then shall the eyes of thy dead wife gaze back +From out the maiden's orbs, then shall a voice +Within thine entrails, cry--This is my child. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Enough! I pray you, my lord President, +End this unseemly scene. This wretched Jew +Would thrust a cuckoo's egg within my nest. +I have had timely warning. Send the twain +Back to their people, that the court's decree +Be published unto all. + + +SUSSKIND. + Lord Tettenborn! +Citizens! will you see this nameless crime +Brand the clean earth, blacken the crystal heaven? +Why, no man stirs! God! with what thick strange fumes +Hast thou, o' the sudden, brutalized their sense? +Or am I mad? Is this already hell? +Worshipful fiends, I have good store of gold, +Packed in my coffers, or loaned out to--Christians; +I give it you as free as night bestows +Her copious dews--my life shall seal the bond, +Have mercy on my race! + + +TETTENBORN. + No more, no more! +Go, bid your tribe make ready for their death +At sunset. + + +RABBI JACOB. + Oh! + + +SUSSKIND. + At set of sun to-day? +Why, if you travelled to the nighest town, +Summoned to stand before a mortal Prince +You would need longer grace to put in order +Household effects, to bid farewell to friends, +And make yourself right worthy. But our way +Is long, our journey difficult, our judge +Of awful majesty. Must we set forth, +Haste-flushed and unprepared? One brief day more, +And all my wealth is yours! + + +TETTENBORN. + We have heard enough. +Begone, and bear our message. + + +SUSSKIND. + Courage, brother, +Our fate is sealed. These tigers are athirst. +Return we to our people to proclaim +The gracious sentence of the noble court. +Let us go thank the Lord who made us those +To suffer, not to do, this deed. Be strong. +So! lean on me--we have little time to lose. +[Exeunt.] + + + + ACT V. + +SCENE I. + + A Room in Susskind's House. LIEBHAID, CLAIRE, REUBEN. + + +LIEBHAID. +The air hangs sultry as in mid-July. +Look forth, Claire; moves not some big thundercloud +Athwart the sky? My heart is sick. + + +CLAIRE. + Nay, Liebhaid. +The clear May sun is shining, and the air +Blows fresh and cordial from the budding hills. + + +LIEBHAID. +Reuben, what is 't o'clock. Our father stays. +The midday meal was cold an hour agone. + + +REUBEN. +'T is two full hours past noon; he should be here. +Ah see, he comes. Great God! what woe has chanced? +He totters on his staff; he has grown old +Since he went forth this morn. + + Enter SUSSKIND. + + +LIEBHAID. + Father, what news? + + +SUSSKIND. +The Lord have mercy! Vain is the help of man. +Children, is all in order? We must start +At set of sun on a long pilgrimage. +So wills the Landgrave, so the court decrees. + + +LIEBHAID. +What is it, father? Exile? + + +SUSSKIND. + Yea, just that. +We are banished from our vexed, uncertain homes, +'Midst foes and strangers, to a land of peace, +Where joy abides, where only comfort is. +Banished from care, fear, trouble, life--to death. + + +REUBEN. +Oh horror! horror! Father, I will not die. +Come, let us flee--we yet have time for flight. +I'll bribe the sentinel--he will ope the gates. +Liebhaid, Claire, Father! let us flee! Away +To some safe land where we may nurse revenge. + + +SUSSKIND. +Courage, my son, and peace. We may not flee. +Didst thou not see the spies who dogged my steps? +The gates are thronged with citizens and guards. +We must not flee--God wills that we should die. + + +LIEBHAID. +Said you at sunset? + + +SUSSKIND. + So they have decreed. + + +CLAIRE. +Oh why not now? Why spare the time to warn? +Why came they not with thee to massacre, +Leaving no agony betwixt the sentence +And instant execution? That were mercy! +Oh, my prophetic father! + + +SUSSKIND. + They allow +Full five hours' grace to shrive our souls with prayer. +We shall assemble in the Synagogue, +As on Atonement Day, confess our sins, +Recite the Kaddish for the Dead, and chant +Our Shibboleth, the Unity of God, +Until the supreme hour when we shall stand +Before the mercy-seat. + + +LIEBHAID. + In what dread shape +Approaches death? + + +SUSSKIND. + Nerve your young hearts, my children. +We shall go down as God's three servants went +Into the fiery furnace. Not again +Shall the flames spare the true-believers' flesh. +The anguish shall be fierce and strong, yet brief. +Our spirits shall not know the touch of pain, +Pure as refined gold they shall issue safe +From the hot crucible; a pleasing sight +Unto the Lord. Oh, 't is a rosy bed +Where we shall couch, compared with that whereon +They lie who kindle this accursed blaze. +Ye shrink? ye would avert your martyred brows +From the immortal crowns the angels offer? +What! are we Jews and are afraid of death? +God's chosen people, shall we stand a-tremble +Before our Father, as the Gentiles use? + + +REUBEN. +Shall the smoke choke us, father? or the flame +Consume our flesh? + + +SUSSKIND. + I know not, boy. Be sure +The Lord will temper the shrewd pain for those +Who trust in Him. + + +REUBEN. + May I stand by thy side, +And hold my hand in thine until the end? + + +SUSSKIND (Aside). +What solace hast thou, God, in all thy heavens +For such an hour as this? Yea, hand in hand +We walk, my son, through fire, to meet the Lord. +Yet there is one among us shall not burn. +A secret shaft long rankling in my heart, +Now I withdraw, and die. Our general doom, +Liebhaid, is not for thee. Thou art no Jewess. +Thy father is the man who wills our death; +Lord Henry Schnetzen. + + +LIEBHAID. + Look at me! your eyes +Are sane, correcting your distracted words. +This is Love's trick, to rescue me from death. +My love is firm as thine, and dies with thee. + + +CLAIRE. +Oh, Liebhaid, live. Hast thou forgot the Prince? +Think of the happy summer blooms for thee +When we are in our graves. + + +LIEBHAID. + And I shall smile, +Live and rejoice in love, when ye are dead? + + +SUSSKIND. +My child, my child! By the Ineffable Name, +The Adonai, I swear, thou must believe, +Albeit thy father scoffed, gave me the lie. +Go kneel to him--for if he see thy face, +Or hear thy voice, he shall not doubt, but save. + + +LIEBHAID. +Never! If I be offspring to that kite, +I here deny my race, forsake my father,-- +So does thy dream fall true. Let him save thee, +Whose hand has guided mine, whose lips have blessed, +Whose bread has nourished me. Thy God is mine, +Thy people are my people. + + +VOICES (without). + Susskind von Orb! + + +SUSSKIND. +I come, my friends. + + Enter boisterously certain Jews. + + +1ST JEW. + Come to the house of God! + + +2D JEW. +Wilt thou desert us for whose sake we perish? + + +3D JEW. +The awful hour draws nigh. Come forth with us +Unto the Synagogue. + + +SUSSKIND. + Bear with me, neighbors. +Here we may weep, here for the last time know +The luxury of sorrow, the soft touch +Of natural tenderness; here our hearts may break; +Yonder no tears, no faltering! Eyes serene +Lifted to heaven, and defiant brows +To those who have usurped the name of men, +Must prove our faith and valor limitless +As is their cruelty. One more embrace, +My daughter, thrice my daughter! Thine affection +Outshines the hellish flames of hate; farewell, +But for a while; beyond the river of fire +I'll fold thee in mine arms, immortal angel! +For thee, poor orphan, soon to greet again +The blessed brows of parents, I dreamed not +The grave was all the home I had to give. +Go thou with Liebhaid, and array yourselves +As for a bridal. Come, little son, with me. +Friends, I am ready. O my God, my God, +Forsake us not in our extremity! +[Exeunt SUSSKIND and JEWS.] + + + +SCENE II. + + A Street in the Judengasse. Several Jews pass across the stage, + running and with gestures of distress. + + +JEWS. +Woe, woe! the curse has fallen! +[Exeunt.] + + Enter other Jews. + + +1ST JEW. + We are doomed. +The fury of the Lord has smitten us. +Oh that mine head were waters and mine eyes +Fountains of tears! God has forsaken us. +[They knock at the doors of the houses.] + + +2D JEW. +What, Benjamin! Open the door to death! +We all shall die at sunset! Menachem! +Come forth! Come forth! Manasseh! Daniel! Ezra! +[Jews appear at the windows.] + + +ONE CALLING FROM ABOVE. +Neighbors, what wild alarm is this? + + +1ST JEW. + Descend! +Descend! Come with us to the house of prayer. +Save himself whoso can! we all shall burn. +[Men and women appear at the doors of the houses.] + + +ONE OF THE MEN AT THE DOOR. +Beseech you brethren, calmly. Tell us all! +Mine aged father lies at point of death +Gasping within. Ye'll thrust him in his grave +With boisterous clamor. + + +1ST JEW. + Blessed is the man +Whom the Lord calls unto Himself in peace! +Susskind von Orb and Rabbi Jacob come +From the tribunal where the vote is--Death +To all our race. + + +SEVERAL VOICES. + Woe! woe! God pity us! + + +1ST JEW. +Hie ye within, and take a last farewell +Of home, love, life--put on your festal robes. +So wills the Rabbi, and come forth at once +To pray till sunset in the Synagogue. + + +AN OLD MAN. +O God! Is this the portion of mine age? +Were my white hairs, my old bones spared for this? +Oh cruel, cruel! + + +A YOUNG GIRL. + I am too young to die. +Save me, my father! To-morrow should have been +The feast at Rachel's house. I longed for that, +Counted the days, dreaded some trivial chance +Might cross my pleasure--Lo, this horror comes! + + +A BRIDE. +Oh love! oh thou just-tasted cup of joy +Snatched from my lips! Shall we twain lie with death, +Dark, silent, cold--whose every sense was tuned +To happiness! Life was too beautiful-- +That was the dream--how soon we are awake! +Ah, we have that within our hearts defies +Their fiercest flames. No end, no end, no end! + + +JEW. +God with a mighty hand, a stretched-out arm, +And poured-out fury, ruleth over us. +The sword is furbished, sharp i' the slayer's hand. +Cry out and howl, thou son of Israel! +Thou shalt be fuel to the fire; thy blood +Shall overflow the land, and thou no more +Shalt be remembered--so the Lord hath spoken. +[Exeunt omnes.] + + + +SCENE III. + + Within the Synagogue. Above in the gallery, women sumptuously + attired; some with children by the hand or infants in their arms. + Below the men and boys with silken scarfs about their shoulders. + + +RABBI JACOB. +The Lord is nigh unto the broken heart. +Out of the depths we cry to thee, oh God! +Show us the path of everlasting life; +For in thy presence is the plenitude +Of joy, and in thy right hand endless bliss. + + Enter SUSSKIND, REUBEN, etc. + + +SEVERAL VOICES. +Woe unto us who perish! + + +A JEW. + Susskind von Orb, +Thou hast brought down this doom. Would we had heard +The prophet's voice! + + +SUSSKIND. + Brethren, my cup is full! +Oh let us die as warriors of the Lord. +The Lord is great in Zion. Let our death +Bring no reproach to Jacob, no rebuke +To Israel. Hark ye! let us crave one boon +At our assassins' hands; beseech them build +Within God's acre where our fathers sleep, +A dancing-floor to hide the fagots stacked. +Then let the minstrels strike the harp and lute, +And we will dance and sing above the pile, +Fearless of death, until the flames engulf, +Even as David danced before the Lord, +As Miriam danced and sang beside the sea. +Great is our Lord! His name is glorious +In Judah, and extolled in Israel! +In Salem is his tent, his dwelling place +In Zion; let us chant the praise of God! + + +A JEW. +Susskind, thou speakest well! We will meet death +With dance and song. Embrace him as a bride. +So that the Lord receive us in His tent. + + +SEVERAL VOICES. +Amen! amen! amen! we dance to death! + + +RABBI JACOB. +Susskind, go forth and beg this grace of them. +[Exit Susskind.] +Punish us not in wrath, chastise us not +In anger, oh our God! Our sins o'erwhelm +Our smitten heads, they are a grievous load; +We look on our iniquities, we tremble, +Knowing our trespasses. Forsake us not. +Be thou not far from us. Haste to our aid, +Oh God, who art our Saviour and our Rock! + + Reenter SUSSKIND. + + +SUSSKIND. +Brethren, our prayer, being the last, is granted. +The hour approaches. Let our thoughts ascend +From mortal anguish to the ecstasy +Of martyrdom, the blessed death of those +Who perish in the Lord. I see, I see +How Israel's ever-crescent glory makes +These flames that would eclipse it, dark as blots +Of candle-light against the blazing sun. +We die a thousand deaths,--drown, bleed, and burn; +Our ashes are dispersed unto the winds. +Yet the wild winds cherish the sacred seed, +The waters guard it in their crystal heart, +The fire refuseth to consume. It springs, +A tree immortal, shadowing many lands, +Unvisited, unnamed, undreamed as yet. +Rather a vine, full-flowered, golden-branched, +Ambrosial-fruited, creeping on the earth, +Trod by the passer's foot, yet chosen to deck +Tables of princes. Israel now has fallen +Into the depths, he shall be great in time.* +Even as we die in honor, from our death +Shall bloom a myriad heroic lives, +Brave through our bright example, virtuous +Lest our great memory fall in disrepute. +Is one among us brothers, would exchange +His doom against our tyrants,--lot for lot? +Let him go forth and live--he is no Jew. +Is one who would not die in Israel +Rather than live in Christ,--their Christ who smiles +On such a deed as this? Let him go forth-- +He may die full of years upon his bed. +Ye who nurse rancor haply in your hearts, +Fear ye we perish unavenged? Not so! +To-day, no! nor to-morrow! but in God's time, +Our witnesses arise. Ours is the truth, +Ours is the power, the gift of Heaven. We hold +His Law, His lamp, His covenant, His pledge. +Wherever in the ages shall arise +Jew-priest, Jew-poet, Jew-singer, or Jew-saint-- +And everywhere I see them star the gloom-- +In each of these the martyrs are avenged! + + *The vine creeps on the earth, trodden by the passer's foot, + but its fruit goes upon the table of princes. Israel now has + fallen in the depths, but he shall be great in the fullness + of time.--TALMUD + + +RABBI JACOB. +Bring from the Ark the bell-fringed, silken-bound +Scrolls of the Law. Gather the silver vessels, +Dismantle the rich curtains of the doors, +Bring the Perpetual Lamp; all these shall burn, +For Israel's light is darkened, Israel's Law +Profaned by strangers. Thus the Lord hath said:* +"The weapon formed against thee shall not prosper, +The tongue that shall contend with thee in judgment, +Thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage +Of the Lord's servants and their righteousness. +For thou shalt come to peoples yet unborn, +Declaring that which He hath done. Amen!" + + *Conclusion of service for Day of Atonement. + +[The doors of the Synagogue are burst open with tumultuous noise. +Citizens and officers rush in.] + + +CITIZENS. +Come forth! the sun sets. Come, the Council waits! +What! will ye teach your betters patience? Out! +The Governor is ready. Forth with you, +Curs! serpents! Judases! The bonfire burns! +[Exeunt.] + + + +SCENE IV. + + A Public Place. Crowds of Citizens assembled. On a platform + are seated DIETRICH VON TETTENBORN and HENRY SCHNETZEN with + other Members of the Council. + + +1ST CITIZEN. +Here's such a throng! Neighbor, your elbow makes +An ill prod for my ribs. + + +2D CITIZEN. + I am pushed and squeezed. +My limbs are not mine own. + + +3D CITIZEN. + Look this way, wife. +They will come hence,--a pack of just-whipped curs. +I warrant you the stiff-necked brutes repent +To-day if ne'er before. + + +WIFE. + I am all a-quiver. +I have seen monstrous sights,--an uncaged wolf, +The corpse of one sucked by a vampyre, +The widow Kupfen's malformed child--but never +Until this hour, a Jew. + + +3D CITIZEN. + D' ye call me Jew? +Where do you spy one now? + + +WIFE. + You'll have your jest +Now or anon, what matters it? + + +4TH CITIZEN. + Well, I +Have seen a Jew, and seen one burn at that; +Hard by in Wartburg; he had killed a child. +Zounds! how the serpent wriggled! I smell now +The roasting, stinking flesh! + + +BOY. + Father, be these +The folk who murdered Jesus? + + +4TH CITIZEN. + Ay, my boy. +Remember that, and when you hear them come, +I'll lift you on my shoulders. You can fling +Your pebbles with the rest. +[Trumpets sound.] + + +CITIZENS. + The Jews! the Jews! + + +BOY. +Quick, father! lift me! I see nothing here +But hose and skirts. +[Music of a march approaching.] + + +CITIZENS. + What mummery is this? +The sorcerers brew new mischief. + + +ANOTHER CITIZEN. + Why, they come +Pranked for a holiday; not veiled for death. + + +ANOTHER CITIZEN. +Insolent braggarts! They defy the Christ! + + Enter, in procession to music, the Jews. First, RABBI JACOB-- + after him, sick people, carried on litters--then old men and + women, followed promiscuously by men, women, and children of + all ages. Some of the men carry gold and silver vessels, some + the Rolls of the Law. One bears the Perpetual Lamp, another + the Seven-branched silver Candlestick of the Synagogue. The + mothers have their children by the hand or in their arms. All + richly attired. + + +CITIZENS. +The misers! they will take their gems and gold +Down to the grave! + + +CITIZEN'S WIFE. + So these be Jews! Christ save us! +To think the devils look like human folk! + + +CITIZENS. +Cursed be the poison-mixers! Let them burn! + + +CITIZENS. +Burn! burn! + + Enter SUSSKIND VON ORB, LIEBHAID, REUBEN, and CLAIRE. + + +SCHNETZEN. + Good God! what maid is that? + + +TETTENBORN. +Liebhaid von Orb. + + +SCHNETZEN. + The devil's trick! +He has bewitched mine eyes. + + +SUSSKIND (as he passes the platform). + Woe to the father +Who murders his own child! + + +SCHNETZEN. + I am avenged, +Susskind von Orb! Blood for blood, fire for fire, +And death for death! +[Exeunt SUSSKIND, LIEBHAID, etc.] + + Enter Jewish youths and maidens. + + +YOUTHS (in chorus). +Let us rejoice, for it is promised us +That we shall enter in God's tabernacle! + + +MAIDENS. +Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Zion, +Within thy portals, O Jerusalem! +[Exeunt.] + + +CITIZEN'S WIFE. +I can see naught from here. Let's follow, Hans. + + +CITIZEN. +Be satisfied. There is no inch of space +For foot to rest on yonder. Look! look there! +How the flames rise! + + +BOY. + O father, I can see! +They all are dancing in the crimson blaze. +Look how their garments wave, their jewels shine, +When the smoke parts a bit. The tall flames dart. +Is not the fire real fire? They fear it not. + + +VOICES WITHOUT. +Arise, oh house of Jacob. Let us walk +Within the light of the Almighty Lord! + + Enter in furious haste PRINCE WILLIAM and NORDMANN. + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +Respite! You kill your daughter, Henry Schnetzen! + + +NORDMANN. +Liebhaid von Orb is your own flesh and blood. + + +SCHNETZEN. +Spectre! do dead men rise? + + +NORDMANN. + Yea, for revenge! +I swear, Lord Schnetzen, by my knightly honor, +She who is dancing yonder to her death, +Is thy wife's child! +[SCHNETZEN and PRINCE WILLIAM make a rush forward towards the +flames. Music ceases; a sound of crashing boards is heard and +a great cry--HALLELUJAH!] + + +PRINCE WILLIAM and SCHNETZEN. + Too late! too late! + + +CITIZENS. + All's done! + + +PRINCE WILLIAM. +The fire! the fire! Liebhaid, I come to thee. +[He is about to spring forward, but is held back by guards.] + + +SCHNETZEN. +Oh cruel Christ! Is there no bolt in heaven +For the child murderer? Kill me, my friends! my breast +Is bare to all your swords. +[He tears open his jerkin, and falls unconscious.] + + [Curtain falls.] + + + + THE END. + + +Note: + +The plot and incidents of this Tragedy are taken from a little +narrative entitled "Der Tanz zum Tode; ein Nachtstuck aus dem +vierzehnten Jahrhundert," (The Dance to Death--a Night-piece of +the fourteenth century). By Richard Reinhard. Compiled from +authentic documents communicated by Professor Franz Delitzsch. + +The original narrative thus disposes, in conclusion, of the +principal characters:-- + +"The Knight Henry Schnetzen ended his curse-stricken life in a +cloister of the strictest order. + +"Herr Nordmann was placed in close confinement, and during the +same year his head fell under the sword of the executioner. + +"Prince William returned, broken down with sorrow, to Eisenach. +His princely father's heart found no comfort during the remainder +of his days. He died soon after the murder of the Jews--his last +words were, 'woe! the fire!' + +"William reached an advanced age, but his life was joyless. He +never married, and at his death Meissen was inherited by his nephew. + +"The Jewish cemetery in Nordhausen, the scene of this martyrdom, +lay for a long time waste. Nobody would build upon it. Now it +is a bleaching meadow, and where once the flames sprang up, to-day +rests peaceful sunshine." + + + + + + + TRANSLATIONS. + + + + TRANSLATIONS FROM THE HEBREW POETS OF MEDAEVAL SPAIN. + + + + SOLOMON BEN JUDAH GABIROL (Died Between 1070-80.) + + + "Am I sipping the honey of the lips? + Am I drunk with the wine of a kiss? + Have I culled the flowers of the cheek, + Have I sucked the fresh fragrance of the breath? + Nay, it is the Song of Gabirol that has revived me, + The perfume of his youthful, spring-tide breeze." + --MOSES BEN ESRA. + + "I will engrave my songs indelibly upon the heart of + the world, so that no one can efface them." + --GABIROL. + + + + NIGHT-PIECE. + + +Night, and the heavens beam serene with peace, +Like a pure heart benignly smiles the moon. +Oh, guard thy blessed beauty from mischance, +This I beseech thee in all tender love. +See where the Storm his cloudy mantle spreads, +An ashy curtain covereth the moon. +As if the tempest thirsted for the rain, +The clouds he presses, till they burst in streams. +Heaven wears a dusky raiment, and the moon +Appeareth dead--her tomb is yonder cloud, +And weeping shades come after, like the people +Who mourn with tearful grief a noble queen. +But look! the thunder pierced night's close-linked mail, +His keen-tipped lance of lightning brandishing; +He hovers like a seraph-conqueror.-- +Dazed by the flaming splendor of his wings, +In rapid flight as in a whirling dance, +The black cloud-ravens hurry scared away. +So, though the powers of darkness chain my soul, +My heart, a hero, chafes and breaks its bonds. + + + + + NIGHT-THOUGHTS. + + +Will night already spread her wings and weave +Her dusky robe about the day's bright form, +Boldly the sun's fair countenance displacing, +And swathe it with her shadow in broad day? +So a green wreath of mist enrings the moon, +Till envious clouds do quite encompass her. +No wind! and yet the slender stem is stirred, +With faint, slight motion as from inward tremor. +Mine eyes are full of grief--who sees me, asks, +"Oh wherefore dost thou cling unto the ground?" +My friends discourse with sweet and soothing words; +They all are vain, they glide above my head. +I fain would check my tears; would fain enlarge +Unto infinity, my heart--in vain! +Grief presses hard my breast, therefore my tears +Have scarcely dried, ere they again spring forth. +For these are streams no furnace heat may quench, +Nebuchadnezzar's flames may dry them not. +What is the pleasure of the day for me, +If, in its crucible, I must renew +Incessantly the pangs of purifying? +Up, challenge, wrestle, and o'ercome! Be strong! +The late grapes cover all the vine with fruit. +I am not glad, though even the lion's pride +Content itself upon the field's poor grass. +My spirit sinks beneath the tide, soars not +With fluttering seamews on the moist, soft strand. +I follow Fortune not, where'er she lead. +Lord o'er myself, I banish her, compel, +And though her clouds should rain no blessed dew, +Though she withhold the crown, the heart's desire, +Though all deceive, though honey change to gall, +Still am I lord, and will in freedom strive. + + + + + MEDITATIONS. + + +Forget thine anguish, + Vexed heart, again. +Why shouldst thou languish, + With earthly pain? +The husk shall slumber, + Bedded in clay +Silent and sombre, + Oblivion's prey! +But, Spirit immortal, +Thou at Death's portal, + Tremblest with fear. + If he caress thee, + Curse thee or bless thee, + Thou must draw near, +From him the worth of thy works to hear. + + + Why full of terror, + Compassed with error, + Trouble thy heart, + For thy mortal part? + The soul flies home-- + The corpse is dumb. + Of all thou didst have, +Follows naught to the grave. + Thou fliest thy nest, +Swift as a bird to thy place of rest. + + + What avail grief and fasting, + Where nothing is lasting? + Pomp, domination, + Become tribulation. + In a health-giving draught, + A death-dealing shaft. + Wealth--an illusion, + Power--a lie, + Over all, dissolution + Creeps silent and sly. + Unto others remain + The goods thou didst gain + With infinite pain. + + +Life is a vine-branch; + A vintager, Death. +He threatens and lowers + More near with each breath. +Then hasten, arise! + Seek God, O my soul! +For time quickly flies, + Still far is the goal. +Vain heart praying dumbly, + Learn to prize humbly, + The meanest of fare. +Forget all thy sorrow, + Behold, Death is there! + + + Dove-like lamenting, + Be full of repenting, +Lift vision supernal +To raptures eternal. + On ev'ry occasion + Seek lasting salvation. +Pour thy heart out in weeping, +While others are sleeping. + Pray to Him when all's still, + Performing his will. +And so shall the angel of peace be thy warden, +And guide thee at last to the heavenly garden. + + + + + HYMN. + + +Almighty! what is man? + But flesh and blood. +Like shadows flee his days, +He marks not how they vanish from his gaze, + Suddenly, he must die-- +He droppeth, stunned, into nonentity. + + + Almighty! what is man? + A body frail and weak, + Full of deceit and lies, + Of vile hypocrisies. +Now like a flower blowing, +Now scorched by sunbeams glowing. +And wilt thou of his trespasses inquire? + How may he ever bear +Thine anger just, thy vengeance dire? + Punish him not, but spare, +For he is void of power and strength! + + +Almighty! what is man? + By filthy lust possessed, +Whirled in a round of lies, + Fond frenzy swells his breast. +The pure man sinks in mire and slime, +The noble shrinketh not from crime, +Wilt thou resent on him the charms of sin? + Like fading grass, + So shall he pass. + Like chaff that blows + Where the wind goes. +Then spare him, be thou merciful, O King, +Upon the dreaded day of reckoning! + + + Almighty! what is man? + The haughty son of time + Drinks deep of sin, + And feeds on crime +Seething like waves that roll, +Hot as a glowing coal. +And wilt thou punish him for sins inborn? + Lost and forlorn, +Then like the weakling he must fall, +Who some great hero strives withal. +Oh, spare him, therefore! let him win + Grace for his sin! + + + Almighty! what is man? + Spotted in guilty wise, + A stranger unto faith, + Whose tongue is stained with lies, +And shalt thou count his sins--so is he lost, + Uprooted by thy breath. +Like to a stream by tempest tossed, +His life falls from him like a cloak, + He passes into nothingness, like smoke. + Then spare him, punish not, be kind, I pray, +To him who dwelleth in the dust, an image wrought in clay! + + + Almighty! what is man? + A withered bough! +When he is awe-struck by approaching doom, +Like a dried blade of grass, so weak, so low +The pleasure of his life is changed to gloom. +He crumbles like a garment spoiled with moth; +According to his sins wilt thou be wroth? +He melts like wax before the candle's breath, +Yea, like thin water, so he vanisheth, +Oh, spare him therefore, for thy gracious name, +And be not too severe upon his shame! + + + Almighty! what is man? + A faded leaf! +If thou dost weigh him in the balance--lo! +He disappears--a breath that thou dost blow. + His heart is ever filled + With lust of lies unstilled. + Wilt thou bear in mind his crime + Unto all time? +He fades away like clouds sun-kissed, + Dissolves like mist. +Then spare him! let him love and mercy win, +According to thy grace, and not according to his sin! + + + + + TO A DETRACTOR. + + +The Autumn promised, and he keeps +His word unto the meadow-rose. +The pure, bright lightnings herald Spring, +Serene and glad the fresh earth shows. +The rain has quenched her children's thirst, +Her cheeks, but now so cold and dry, +Are soft and fair, a laughing face; +With clouds of purple shines the sky, +Though filled with light, yet veiled with haze. +Hark! hark! the turtle's mocking note +Outsings the valley-pigeon's lays. +Her wings are gemmed, and from her throat, +When the clear sun gleams back again, +It seems to me as though she wore +About her neck a jewelled chain. +Say, wilt thou darken such a light, +Wilt drag the clouds from heaven's height? +Although thy heart with anger swell, +Yet firm as marble mine doth dwell. +Therein no fear thy wrath begets. +It is not shaken by thy threats. +Yea, hurl thy darts, thy weapons wield, +The strength of youth is still my shield. +My winged steed toward the heights doth bound, +The dust whiffs upward from the ground; +My song is scanty, dost thou deem +Thine eloquence a mighty stream? +Only the blameless offering. +Not the profusion man may bring, +Prevaileth with our Lord and King. +The long days out of minutes grow, +And out of months the years arise, +Wilt thou be master of the wise, +Then learn the hidden stream to know, +That from the inmost heart doth flow. + + + + + FRAGMENT. + + +My friend spoke with insinuating tongue: + "Drink wine, and thy flesh shall be made whole. Look how + it hisses in the leathern bottle like a captured serpent." +Oh fool! can the sun be forged into a cask stopped with + earthly bungs. I know not that the power of wine has ever + overmastered my sorrows; for these mighty giants I have found + as yet no resting-place. + + + + + STANZAS. + + +"With tears thy grief thou dost bemoan, +Tears that would melt the hardest stone, +Oh, wherefore sing'st thou not the vine? +Why chant'st thou not the praise of wine? +It chases pain with cunning art, +The craven slinks from out thy heart." + + +But I: Poor fools the wine may cheat, +Lull them with lying visions sweet. +Upon the wings of storms may bear +The heavy burden of their care. +The father's heart may harden so, +He feeleth not his own child's woe. + + +No ocean is the cup, no sea, +To drown my broad, deep misery. +It grows so rank, you cut it all, +The aftermath springs just as tall. +My heart and flesh are worn away, +Mine eyes are darkened from the day. + + +The lovely morning-red behold +Wave to the breeze her flag of gold. +The hosts of stars above the world, +Like banners vanishing are furled. +The dew shines bright; I bide forlorn, +And shudder with the chill of morn. + + + + + WINE AND GRIEF. + + +With heavy groans did I approach my friends, +Heavy as though the mountains I would move. +The flagon they were murdering; they poured +Into the cup, wild-eyed, the grape's red blood. +No, they killed not, they breathed new life therein. +Then, too, in fiery rapture, burned my veins, +But soon the fumes had fled. In vain, in vain! +Ye cannot fill the breach of the rent heart. +Ye crave a sensuous joy; ye strive in vain +To cheat with flames of passion, my despair. +So when the sinking sun draws near to night, +The sky's bright cheeks fade 'neath those tresses black. +Ye laugh--but silently the soul weeps on; +Ye cannot stifle her sincere lament. + + + + + DEFIANCE. + + +"Conquer the gloomy night of thy sorrow, for the morning greets + thee with laughter. +Rise and clothe thyself with noble pride, +Break loose from the tyranny of grief. +Thou standest alone among men, +Thy song is like a pearl in beauty." + + +So spake my friend. 'T is well! +The billows of the stormy sea which overwhelmed my soul,-- +These I subdue; I quake not +Before the bow and arrow of destiny. +I endured with patience when he deceitfully lied to me +With his treacherous smile. + + +Yea, boldly I defy Fate, +I cringe not to envious Fortune. +I mock the towering floods. +My brave heart does not shrink-- +This heart of mine, that, albeit young in years, +Is none the less rich in deep, keen-eyed experience. + + + + + A DEGENERATE AGE. + + +Where is the man who has been tried and found strong and sound? +Where is the friend of reason and of knowledge? +I see only sceptics and weaklings. +I see only prisoners in the durance of the senses, +And every fool and every spendthrift +Thinks himself as great a master as Aristotle. +Think'st thou that they have written poems? +Call'st thou that a Song? +I call it the cackling of ravens. +The zeal of the prophet must free poesy +From the embrace of wanton youths. +My song I have inscribed on the forehead of Time, +They know and hate it--for it is lofty. + + + + + + + ABUL HASSAN JUDAH BEN HA-LEVI. (Born Between 1080-90.) + + + + A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND ISAAC. + + +But yesterday the earth drank like a child + With eager thirst the autumn rain. +Or like a wistful bride who waits the hour + Of love's mysterious bliss and pain. +And now the Spring is here with yearning eyes; + Midst shimmering golden flower-beds, +On meadows carpeted with varied hues, + In richest raiment clad, she treads. +She weaves a tapestry of bloom o'er all, + And myriad eyed young plants upspring, +White, green, or red like lips that to the mouth + Of the beloved one sweetly cling. +Whence come these radiant tints, these blended beams? + Here's such a dazzle, such a blaze, +As though each stole the splendor of the stars, + Fain to eclipse them with her rays. +Come! go we to the garden with our wine, + Which scatters sparks of hot desire, +Within our hand 't is cold, but in our veins + It flashes clear, it glows like fire. +It bubbles sunnily in earthen jugs. +We catch it in the crystal glass, + Then wander through cool, shadowy lanes and breathe + The spicy freshness of the grass. +Whilst we with happy hearts our circuit keep, + The gladness of the Earth is shown. +She smileth, though the trickling raindrops weep + Silently o'er her, one by one. +She loves to feel the tears upon her cheek, + Like a rich veil, with pearls inwove. +Joyous she listens when the swallows chirp, + And warbles to her mate, the dove. +Blithe as a maiden midst the young green leaves, + A wreath she'll wind, a fragrant treasure; +All living things in graceful motion leap, + As dancing to some merry measure. +The morning breezes rustle cordially, + Love's thirst is sated with the balm they send. +Sweet breathes the myrtle in the frolic wind, + As though remembering a distant friend. +The myrtle branch now proudly lifted high, + Now whispering to itself drops low again. +The topmost palm-leaves rapturously stir, + For all at once they hear the birds' soft strain. +So stirs, so yearns all nature, gayly decked, + To honor ISAAC with her best array. +Hear'st thou the word? She cries--I beam with joy, +Because with Isaac I am wed to-day. + + + + + ADMONITION. + + +Long in the lap of childhood didst thou sleep, +Think how thy youth like chaff did disappear; +Shall life's sweet Spring forever last? Look up, +Old age approaches ominously near. +Oh shake thou off the world, even as the bird +Shakes off the midnight dew that clogged his wings. +Soar upward, seek redemption from thy guilt +And from the earthly dross that round thee clings. +Draw near to God, His holy angels know, +For whom His bounteous streams of mercy flow. + + + + + LOVE-SONG. + + +"See'st thou o'er my shoulders falling, + Snake-like ringlets waving free? +Have no fear, for they are twisted + To allure thee unto me." + + +Thus she spake, the gentle dove, + Listen to thy plighted love:-- +"Ah, how long I wait, until + Sweetheart cometh back (she said) +Laying his caressing hand + Underneath my burning head." + + + + + SEPARATION. + + +And so we twain must part! Oh linger yet, + Let me still feed my glance upon thine eyes. +Forget not, love, the days of our delight, + And I our nights of bliss shall ever prize. +In dreams thy shadowy image I shall see, + Oh even in my dream be kind to me! + + +Though I were dead, I none the less would hear + Thy step, thy garment rustling on the sand. +And if thou waft me greetings from the grave, + I shall drink deep the breath of that cold land. +Take thou my days, command this life of mine, + If it can lengthen out the space of thine. + + +No voice I hear from lips death-pale and chill, + Yet deep within my heart it echoes still. +My frame remains--my soul to thee yearns forth. + A shadow I must tarry still on earth. +Back to the body dwelling here in pain, + Return, my soul, make haste and come again! + + + + + LONGING FOR JERUSALEM. + + +O city of the world, with sacred splendor blest, +My spirit yearns to thee from out the far-off West, +A stream of love wells forth when I recall thy day, +Now is thy temple waste, thy glory passed away. +Had I an eagle's wings, straight would I fly to thee, +Moisten thy holy dust with wet cheeks streaming free. +Oh, how I long for thee! albeit thy King has gone, +Albeit where balm once flowed, the serpent dwells alone. +Could I but kiss thy dust, so would I fain expire, +As sweet as honey then, my passion, my desire! + + + + + ON THE VOYAGE TO JERUSALEM. + + + I. + + +My two-score years and ten are over, + Never again shall youth be mine. +The years are ready-winged for flying, + What crav'st thou still of feast and wine? +Wilt thou still court man's acclamation, + Forgetting what the Lord hath said? +And forfeiting thy weal eternal, + By thine own guilty heart misled? +Shalt thou have never done with folly, + Still fresh and new must it arise? +Oh heed it not, heed not the senses, + But follow God, be meek and wise; +Yea, profit by thy days remaining, + They hurry swiftly to the goal. +Be zealous in the Lord's high service, + And banish falsehood from thy soul. +Use all thy strength, use all thy fervor, + Defy thine own desires, awaken! +Be not afraid when seas are foaming, + And earth to her foundations shaken. +Benumbed the hand then of the sailor, + The captain's skill and power are lamed. +Gayly they sailed with colors flying, + And now turn home again ashamed. +The ocean is our only refuge, + The sandbank is our only goal, +The masts are swaying as with terror, + And quivering does the vessel roll. +The mad wind frolics with the billows, + Now smooths them low, now lashes high. +Now they are storming up like lions, + And now like serpents sleek they lie; +And wave on wave is ever pressing, + They hiss, they whisper, soft of tone. +Alack! was that the vessel splitting? + Are sail and mast and rudder gone? +Here, screams of fright, there, silent weeping, + The bravest feels his courage fail. +What stead our prudence or our wisdom? + The soul itself can naught avail. +And each one to his God is crying, + Soar up, my soul, to Him aspire, +Who wrought a miracle for Jordan, + Extol Him, oh angelic choir! +Remember Him who stays the tempest, + The stormy billows doth control, +Who quickeneth the lifeless body, + And fills the empty frame with soul. +Behold! once more appears a wonder, + The angry waves erst raging wild, +Like quiet flocks of sheep reposing, + So soft, so still, so gently mild. +The sun descends, and high in heaven, + The golden-circled moon doth stand. +Within the sea the stars are straying, + Like wanderers in an unknown land. +The lights celestial in the waters + Are flaming clearly as above, +As though the very heavens descended, + To seal a covenant of love. +Perchance both sea and sky, twin oceans, + From the same source of grace are sprung. +'Twixt these my heart, a third sea, surges, + With songs resounding, clearly sung. + + + + + II. + + +A watery waste the sinful world has grown, +With no dry spot whereon the eye can rest, +No man, no beast, no bird to gaze upon, +Can all be dead, with silent sleep possessed? +Oh, how I long the hills and vales to see, +To find myself on barren steppes were bliss. +I peer about, but nothing greeteth me, +Naught save the ship, the clouds, the waves' abyss, +The crocodile which rushes from the deeps; +The flood foams gray; the whirling waters reel, +Now like its prey whereon at last it sweeps, +The ocean swallows up the vessel's keel. +The billows rage--exult, oh soul of mine, +Soon shalt thou enter the Lord's sacred shrine! + + + + + III. + + TO THE WEST WIND. + + +O West, how fragrant breathes thy gentle air, +Spikenard and aloes on thy pinions glide. +Thou blow'st from spicy chambers, not from there +Where angry winds and tempests fierce abide. +As on a bird's wings thou dost waft me home, +Sweet as a bundle of rich myrrh to me. +And after thee yearn all the throngs that roam +And furrow with light keel the rolling sea. +Desert her not--our ship--bide with her oft, +When the day sinks and in the morning light. +Smooth thou the deeps and make the billows soft, +Nor rest save at our goal, the sacred height. +Chide thou the East that chafes the raging flood, +And swells the towering surges wild and rude. +What can I do, the elements' poor slave? +Now do they hold me fast, now leave me free; +Cling to the Lord, my soul, for He will save, +Who caused the mountains and the winds to be. + + + + + + + MOSES BEN ESRA (About 1100). + + + EXTRACTS FROM THE BOOK OF TARSHISH, + OR "NECKLACE OF PEARLS." + + + + I. + + +The shadow of the houses leave behind, +In the cool boscage of the grove reclined, +The wine of friendship from love's goblet drink, +And entertain with cheerful speech the mind. + + +Drink, friend! behold, the dreary winter's gone, +The mantle of old age has time withdrawn. +The sunbeam glitters in the morning dew, +O'er hill and vale youth's bloom is surging on. + + +Cup-bearer! quench with snow the goblet's fire, +Even as the wise man cools and stills his ire. +Look, when the jar is drained, upon the brim +The light foam melteth with the heart's desire. + + +Cup-bearer! bring anear the silver bowl, +And with the glowing gold fulfil the whole, +Unto the weak new vigor it imparts, +And without lance subdues the hero's soul. + + +My love sways, dancing, like the myrtle-tree, +The masses of her curls disheveled, see! +She kills me with her darts, intoxicates +My burning blood, and will not set me free. + + +Within the aromatic garden come, +And slowly in its shadows let us roam, +The foliage be the turban for our brows, +And the green branches o'er our heads a dome. + + +All pain thou with the goblet shalt assuage, +The wine-cup heals the sharpest pangs that rage, +Let others crave inheritance of wealth, +Joy be our portion and our heritage. + + +Drink in the garden, friend, anigh the rose, +Richer than spice's breath the soft air blows. +If it should cease a little traitor then, +A zephyr light its secret would disclose. + + + + + II. + + +Thou who art clothed in silk, who drawest on +Proudly thy raiment of fine linen spun, +Bethink thee of the day when thou alone +Shall dwell at last beneath the marble stone. + + +Anigh the nests of adders thine abode, +With the earth-crawling serpent and the toad. +Trust in the Lord, He will sustain thee there, +And without fear thy soul shall rest with God. + + +If the world flatter thee with soft-voiced art, +Know 't is a cunning witch who charms thy heart, +Whose habit is to wed man's soul with grief, +And those who are close-bound in love to part. + + +He who bestows his wealth upon the poor, +Has only lent it to the Lord, be sure-- +Of what avail to clasp it with clenched hand? +It goes not with us to the grave obscure. + + +The voice of those who dwell within the tomb, +Who in corruption's house have made their home; +"O ye who wander o'er us still to-day, +When will ye come to share with us the gloom?" + + +How can'st thou ever of the world complain, +And murmuring, burden it with all thy pain? +Silence! thou art a traveller at an inn, +A guest, who may but over night remain. + + +Be thou not wroth against the proud, but show +How he who yesterday great joy did know, +To-day is begging for his very bread, +And painfully upon a crutch must go. + + +How foolish they whose faith is fixed upon +The treasures of their worldly wealth alone, +Far wiser were it to obey the Lord, +And only say, "The will of God be done!" + + +Has Fortune smiled on thee? Oh do not trust +Her reckless joy, she still deceives and must. +Perpetual snares she spreads about thy feet, +Thou shalt not rest till thou art mixed with dust. + + +Man is a weaver on the earth, 't is said, +Who weaves and weaves--his own days are the thread, +And when the length allotted he hath spun, +All life is over, and all hope is dead. + + + + + IN THE NIGHT. + + +Unto the house of prayer my spirit yearns, +Unto the sources of her being turns, +To where the sacred light of heaven burns, +She struggles thitherward by day and night. + + +The splendor of God's glory blinds her eyes, +Up without wings she soareth to the skies, +With silent aspiration seeks to rise, +In dusky evening and in darksome night. + + +To her the wonders of God's works appear, +She longs with fervor Him to draw anear, +The tidings of His glory reach her ear, +From morn to even, and from night to night. + + +The banner of thy grace did o'er me rest, +Yet was thy worship banished from my breast. +Almighty, thou didst seek me out and test +To try and to instruct me in the night. + + +I dare not idly on my pillow lie, +With winged feet to the shrine I fain would fly, +When chained by leaden slumbers heavily, +Men rest in imaged shadows, dreams of night. + + +Infatuate I trifled youth away, +In nothingness dreamed through my manhood's day. +Therefore my streaming tears I may not stay, +They are my meat and drink by day and night. + + +In flesh imprisoned is the son of light, +This life is but a bridge when seen aright. +Rise in the silent hour and pray with might, +Awake and call upon thy God by night! + + +Hasten to cleanse thyself of sin, arise! +Follow Truth's path that leads unto the skies, +As swift as yesterday existence flies, +Brief even as a watch within the night. + + +Man enters life for trouble; all he has, +And all that he beholds, is pain, alas! +Like to a flower does he bloom and pass, +He fadeth like a vision of the night. + + +The surging floods of life around him roar, +Death feeds upon him, pity is no more, +To others all his riches he gives o'er, +And dieth in the middle hour of night. + + +Crushed by the burden of my sins I pray, +Oh, wherefore shunned I not the evil way? +Deep are my sighs, I weep the livelong day, +And wet my couch with tears night after night. + + +My spirit stirs, my streaming tears still run, +Like to the wild birds' notes my sorrows' tone, +In the hushed silence loud resounds my groan, +My soul arises moaning in the night. + + +Within her narrow cell oppressed with dread, +Bare of adornment and with grief-bowed head +Lamenting, many a tear her sad eyes shed, +She weeps with anguish in the gloomy night. + + +For tears my burden seem to lighten best, +Could I but weep my heart's blood, I might rest. +My spirit bows with mighty grief oppressed, +I utter forth my prayer within the night. + + +Youth's charm has like a fleeting shadow gone, +With eagle wings the hours of life have flown. +Alas! the time when pleasure I have known, +I may not now recall by day or night. + + +The haughty scorn pursues me of my foe, +Evil his thought, yet soft his speech and low. +Forget it not, but bear his purpose so +Forever in thy mind by day and night. + + +Observe a pious fast, be whole again, +Hasten to purge thy heart of every stain. +No more from prayer and penitence refrain, +But turn unto thy God by day and night. + + +HE SPEAKS: "My son, yea, I will send thee aid, +Bend thou thy steps to me, be not afraid. +No nearer friend than I am, hast thou made, +Possess thy soul in patience one more night." + + + + + FROM THE "DIVAN." + + +My thoughts impelled me to the resting-place +Where sleep my parents, many a friend and brother. +I asked them (no one heard and none replied): +"Do ye forsake me, too, oh father, mother?" +Then from the grave, without a tongue, these cried, +And showed my own place waiting by their side. + + + + + LOVE SONG OF ALCHARISI. + + + I. + + +The long-closed door, oh open it again, send me back once more my + fawn that had fled. +On the day of our reunion, thou shalt rest by my side, there wilt + thou shed over me the streams of thy delicious perfume. +Oh beautiful bride, what is the form of thy friend, that thou say + to me, Release him, send him away? +He is the beautiful-eyed one of ruddy glorious aspect--that is my + friend, him do thou detain. + + + + II. + + +Hail to thee, Son of my friend, the ruddy, the bright-colored one! + Hail to thee whose temples are like a pomegranate. +Hasten to the refuge of thy sister, and protect the son of Isaiah + against the troops of the Ammonites. +What art thou, O Beauty, that thou shouldst inspire love? that thy + voice should ring like the voices of the bells upon the priestly + garments? +The hour wherein thou desireth my love, I shall hasten to meet thee. + Softly will I drop beside thee like the dew upon Hermon. + + + + + + + NACHUM. + + + SPRING SONGS. + + + I. + + +Now the dreary winter's over, + Fled with him are grief and pain, +When the trees their bloom recover, + Then the soul is born again. +Spikenard blossoms shaking, + Perfume all the air, +And in bud and flower breaking, + Stands my garden fair. +While with swelling gladness blest, +Heaves my friend's rejoicing breast. +Oh, come home, lost friend of mine, +Scared from out my tent and land. + Drink from me the spicy wine, + Milk and must from out my hand. + + +Cares which hovered round my brow, +Vanish, while the garden now +Girds itself with myrtle hedges, + Bright-hued edges + Round it lie. + Suddenly +All my sorrows die. +See the breathing myrrh-trees blow, + Aromatic airs enfold me. +While the splendor and the glow + Of the walnut-branches hold me. + + +And a balsam-breath is flowing, + Through the leafy shadows green, +On the left the cassia's growing, + On the right the aloe's seen. +Lo, the clear cup crystalline, + In itself a gem of art, +Ruby-red foams up with wine, +Sparkling rich with froth and bubble. +I forget the want and trouble, + Buried deep within my heart. + + + Where is he who lingered here, + But a little while agone? + From my homestead he has flown, + From the city sped alone, + Dwelling in the forest drear. +Oh come again, to those who wait thee long, +And who will greet thee with a choral song! + Beloved, kindle bright + Once more thine everlasting light. +Through thee, oh cherub with protecting wings, +My glory out of darkness springs. + + + + + II. + + +Crocus and spikenard blossom on my lawn, +The brier fades, the thistle is withdrawn. +Behold, where glass-clear brooks are flowing, +The splendor of the myrtle blowing! +The garden-tree has doffed her widow's veil, +And shines in festal garb, in verdure pale. + The turtle-dove is cooing, hark! + Is that the warble of the lark! +Unto their perches they return again. +Oh brothers, carol forth your joyous strain, +Pour out full-throated ecstasy of mirth, +Proclaiming the Lord's glory to the earth. + One with a low, sweet song, + One echoing loud and long, +Chanting the music of a spirit strong. +In varied tints the landscape glows. + + +In rich array appears the rose. +While the pomegranate's wreath of green, +The gauzy red and snow-white blossoms screen. +Who loves it, now rejoices for its sake, +And those are glad who sleep, and those who wake. +When cool-breathed evening visiteth the world, +In flower and leaf the beaded dew is pearled, + Reviving all that droops at length, + And to the languid giving strength. + + +Now in the east the shining light behold! +The sun has oped a lustrous path of gold. +Within my narrow garden's greenery, +Shot forth a branch, sprang to a splendid tree, +Then in mine ear the joyous words did ring, +"From Jesse's root a verdant branch shall spring." +My Friend has cast His eyes upon my grief, +According to His mercy, sends relief. +Hark! the redemption hour's resounding stroke, +For him who bore with patient heart the yoke! + + + + + + + A TRANSLATION AND TWO IMITATIONS. + + + + I. + + DONNA CLARA. + + (From the German of Heine) + + +In the evening through her garden + Wanders the Alcalde's daughter, +Festal sounds of drum and trumpet + Ring out hither from the Castle. + + +"I am weary of the dances, + Honeyed words of adulation +From the knights who still compare me + To the sun with dainty phrases. + + +"Yes, of all things I am weary, + Since I first beheld by moonlight +Him, my cavalier, whose zither + Nightly draws me to my casement. + + +"As he stands so slim and daring, + With his flaming eyes that sparkle, +And with nobly pallid features, + Truly, he St. George resembles." + + +Thus went Donna Clara dreaming, + On the ground her eyes were fastened. +When she raised them, lo! before her + Stood the handsome knightly stranger. + + +Pressing hands and whispering passion, + These twain wander in the moonlight, +Gently doth the breeze caress them, + The enchanted roses greet them. + + +The enchanted roses greet them, + And they glow like Love's own heralds. +"Tell me, tell me, my beloved, + Wherefore all at once thou blushest?" + + +"Gnats were stinging me, my darling, + And I hate these gnats in summer +E'en as though they were a rabble + Of vile Jews with long, hooked noses." + + +"Heed not gnats nor Jews, beloved," + Spake the knight with fond endearments. +From the almond-trees dropped downward + Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms. + + +Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms + Shed around them fragrant odors. +"Tell me, tell me, my beloved, + Looks thy heart on me with favor?" + + +"Yes, I love thee, O my darling, + And I swear it by our Saviour, +Whom the accursed Jews did murder, + Long ago with wicked malice." + + +"Heed thou neither Jews nor Saviour," + Spake the knight with fond endearments. +Far off waved, as in a vision, + Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight. + + +Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight + Seemed to watch the stars above them. +"Tell me, tell me, my beloved, + Didst thou not erewhile swear falsely?" + + +"Naught is false in me, my darling, + E'en as in my veins there floweth +Not a drop of blood that's Moorish, + Neither of foul Jewish current." + + +"Heed not Moors nor Jews, beloved," + Spake the knight with fond endearments. +Then towards a grove of myrtles + + Leads he the Alcalde's daughter. + + +And with Love's slight subtile meshes, + He has trapped her and entangled. +Brief their words, but long their kisses, + For their hearts are overflowing. + + +What a melting bridal carol + Sings the nightingale, the pure one. +How the fire-flies in the grasses + Trip their sparkling torchlight dances! + + +In the grove the silence deepens, + Naught is heard save furtive rustling +Of the swaying myrtle branches, + And the breathing of the flowers. + + +But the sound of drum and trumpet + Burst forth sudden from the castle. +Rudely they awaken Clara, + Pillowed on her lover's bosom. + + +"Hark! they summon me, my darling! + But before we part, oh tell me, +Tell me what thy precious name is, + Which so closely thou hast hidden." + + +Then the knight with gentle laughter, + Kissed the fingers of his Donna, +Kissed her lips and kissed her forehead, + And at last these words he uttered: + + +"I, Senora, your beloved, + Am the son of the respected, +Worthy, erudite Grand Rabbi, + Israel of Saragossa." + + + + + + +"The ensemble of the romance is a scene of my own life--only the +Park of Berlin has become the Alcalde's garden, the Baroness a +Seora, and myself a St. George, or even an Apollo. This was only +to be the first part of a trilogy, the second of which shows the +hero jeered at by his own child, who does not know him, whilst the +third discovers this child, who has become a Dominican, and is +torturing to the death his Jewish brethren. The refrain of these +two pieces corresponds with that of the first. Indeed this little +poem was not intended to excite laughter, still less to denote a +mocking spirit. I merely wished, without any definite purpose, to +render with epic impartiality in this poem an individual +circumstance, and, at the same time, something general and +universal--a moment in the world's history which was distinctly +reflected in my experience, and I had conceived the whole idea in a +spirit which was anything rather than smiling but serious and +painful, so much so, that it was to form the first part of a tragic +trilogy."--Heine's Correspondence. + +Guided by these hints, I have endeavored to carry out in the two +following original Ballads the Poet's first conception. + + Emma Lazarus. + + + + II. + + DON PEDRILLO. + + +Not a lad in Saragossa + Nobler-featured, haughtier-tempered, +Than the Alcalde's youthful grandson, + Donna Clara's boy Pedrillo. + + +Handsome as the Prince of Evil, + And devout as St. Ignatius. +Deft at fence, unmatched with zither, + Miniature of knightly virtues. + + +Truly an unfailing blessing + To his pious, widowed mother, +To the beautiful, lone matron + Who forswore the world to rear him. + + +For her beauty hath but ripened + In such wise as the pomegranate +Putteth by her crown of blossoms, + For her richer crown of fruitage. + + +Still her hand is claimed and courted, + Still she spurns her proudest suitors, +Doting on a phantom passion, + And upon her boy Pedrillo. + + +Like a saint lives Donna Clara, + First at matins, last at vespers, +Half her fortune she expendeth + Buying masses for the needy. + + +Visiting the poor afflicted, + Infinite is her compassion, +Scorning not the Moorish beggar, + Nor the wretched Jew despising. + + +And--a scandal to the faithful, + E'en she hath been known to welcome +To her castle the young Rabbi, + Offering to his tribe her bounty. + + +Rarely hath he crossed the threshold, + Yet the thought that he hath crossed it, +Burns like poison in the marrow + Of the zealous youth Pedrillo. + + +By the blessed Saint Iago, + He hath vowed immortal hatred +To these circumcised intruders + Who pollute the soil of Spaniards. + + +Seated in his mother's garden, + At high noon the boy Pedrillo +Playeth with his favorite parrot, + Golden-green with streaks of scarlet. + + +"Pretty Dodo, speak thy lesson," + Coaxed Pedrillo--"thief and traitor"-- +"Thief and traitor"--croaked the parrot, + "Is the yellow-skirted Rabbi." + + +And the boy with peals of laughter, + Stroked his favorite's head of emerald, +Raised his eyes, and lo! before him + Stood the yellow-skirted Rabbi. + + +In his dark eyes gleamed no anger, + No hot flush o'erspread his features. +'Neath his beard his pale lips quivered, + And a shadow crossed his forehead. + + +Very gentle was his aspect, + And his voice was mild and friendly, +"Evil words, my son, thou speakest, + Teaching to the fowls of heaven. + + +"In our Talmud it stands written, + Thrice curst is the tongue of slander, +Poisoning also with its victim, + Him who speaks and him who listens." + + +But no whit abashed, Pedrillo, + "What care I for curse of Talmud? +'T is no slander to speak evil + Of the murderers of our Saviour. + + +"To your beard I will repeat it, + That I only bide my manhood, +To wreak all my lawful hatred, + On thyself and on thy people." + + +Very gently spoke the Rabbi, + "Have a care, my son Pedrillo, +Thou art orphaned, and who knoweth + But thy father loved this people?" + + +"Think you words like these will touch me? + Such I laugh to scorn, sir Rabbi, +From high heaven, my sainted father + On my deeds will smile in blessing. + + +"Loyal knight was he and noble, + And my mother oft assures me, +Ne'er she saw so pure a Christian, + 'T is from him my zeal deriveth." + + +"What if he were such another + As myself who stand before thee?" +"I should curse the hour that bore me, + I should die of shame and horror." + + +"Harsher is thy creed than ours; + For had I a son as comely +As Pedrillo, I would love him, + Love him were he thrice a Christian. + + +"In his youth my youth renewing + Pamper, fondle, die to serve him, +Only breathing through his spirit-- + Couldst thou not love such a father?" + + +Faltering spoke the deep-voiced Rabbi, + With white lips and twitching fingers, +Then in clear, young, steady treble, + Answered him the boy Pedrillo: + + +"At the thought my heart revolteth, + All your tribe offend my senses, +They're an eyesore to my vision, + And a stench unto my nostrils. + + +"When I meet these unbelievers, + With thick lips and eagle noses, +Thus I scorn them, thus revile them, + Thus I spit upon their garment." + + +And the haughty youth passed onward, + Bearing on his wrist his parrot, +And the yellow-skirted Rabbi + With bowed head sought Donna Clara. + + + + + III. + + FRA PEDRO. + + +Golden lights and lengthening shadows, + Flings the splendid sun declining, +O'er the monastery garden + Rich in flower, fruit and foliage. + + +Through the avenue of nut trees, + Pace two grave and ghostly friars, +Snowy white their gowns and girdles, + Black as night their cowls and mantles. + + +Lithe and ferret-eyed the younger, + Black his scapular denoting +A lay brother; his companion + Large, imperious, towers above him. + + +'T is the abbot, great Fra Pedro, + Famous through all Saragossa +For his quenchless zeal in crushing + Heresy amidst his townfolk. + + +Handsome still with hood and tonsure, + E'en as when the boy Pedrillo, +Insolent with youth and beauty, + Who reviled the gentle Rabbi. + + +Lo, the level sun strikes sparkles + From his dark eyes brightly flashing. +Stern his voice: "These too shall perish. + I have vowed extermination. + + +"Tell not me of skill or virtue, + Filial love or woman's beauty-- +Jews are Jews, as serpents serpents, + In themselves abomination." + + +Earnestly the other pleaded, + "If my zeal, thrice reverend master, +E'er afforded thee assistance, + Serving thee as flesh serves spirit, + + +"Hounding, scourging, flaying, burning, + Casting into chains or exile, +At thy bidding these vile wretches, + Hear and heed me now, my master. + + +"These be nowise like their brethren, + Ben Jehudah is accounted +Saragossa's first physician, + Loved by colleague as by patient. + + +"And his daughter Donna Zara + Is our city's pearl of beauty, +Like the clusters of the vineyard + Droop the ringlets o'er her temples. + + +"Like the moon in starry heavens + Shines her face among her people, +And her form hath all the languor, + Grace and glamour of the palm-tree. + + +"Well thou knowest, thrice reverend master, + This is not their first affliction, +Was it not our Holy Office + Whose bribed menials fired their dwelling? + + +"Ere dawn broke, the smoke ascended, + Choked the stairways, filled the chambers, +Waked the household to the terror + Of the flaming death that threatened. + + +"Then the poor bed-ridden mother + Knew her hour had come; two daughters, +Twinned in form, and mind, and spirit, + And their father--who would save them? + + +"Towards her door sprang Ben Jehudah, + Donna Zara flew behind him +Round his neck her white arms wreathing, + Drew him from the burning chamber. + + +"There within, her sister Zillah + Stirred no limb to shun her torture, +Held her mother's hand and kissed her, + Saying, 'We will go together.' + + +"This the outer throng could witness, + As the flames enwound the dwelling, +Like a glory they illumined + Awfully the martyred daughter. + + +"Closer, fiercer, round they gathered, + Not a natural cry escaped her, +Helpless clung to her her mother, + Hand in hand they went together. + + +"Since that 'Act of Faith' three winters + Have rolled by, yet on the forehead +Of Jehudah is imprinted + Still the horror of that morning. + +"Saragossa hath respected + His false creed; a man of sorrows, +He hath walked secure among us, + And his art repays our sufferance." + + +Thus he spoke and ceased. The Abbot + Lent him an impatient hearing, +Then outbroke with angry accent, + "We have borne three years, thou sayest? + + +"'T is enough; my vow is sacred. + These shall perish with their brethren. +Hark ye! In my veins' pure current + Were a single drop found Jewish, + + +"I would shrink not from outpouring + All my life blood, but to purge it. +Shall I gentler prove to others? + Mercy would be sacrilegious. + + +"Ne'er again at thy soul's peril, + Speak to me of Jewish beauty, +Jewish skill, or Jewish virtue. + I have said. Do thou remember." + + +Down behind the purple hillside + Dropped the sun; above the garden +Rang the Angelus' clear cadence + Summoning the monks to vespers. + + + + + + + TRANSLATIONS FROM PETRARCH. + + + + IN VITA. LXVII. + + +Since thou and I have proven many a time +That all our hope betrays us and deceives, +To that consummate good which never grieves +Uplift thy heart, towards a happier clime. +This life is like a field of flowering thyme, +Amidst the herbs and grass the serpent lives; +If aught unto the sight brief pleasure gives, +'T is but to snare the soul with treacherous lime. +So, wouldst thou keep thy spirit free from cloud, +A tranquil habit to thy latest day, +Follow the few, and not the vulgar crowd. +Yet mayest thou urge, "Brother, the very way +Thou showest us, wherefrom thy footsteps proud +(And never more than now) so oft did stray." + + + + + IN VITA. LXXVI. + + +Sennuccio, I would have thee know the shame +That's dealt to me, and what a life is mine. +Even as of yore, I struggle, burn and pine. +Laura transports me, I am still the same. +All meekness here, all pride she there became, +Now harsh, now kind, now cruel, now benign; +Here honor clothed her, there a grace divine; +Now gentle, now disdainful of my flame. +Here sweetly did she sing; there sat awhile; +There she turned back, she lingered in this spot. +Here with her splendid eyes my heart she clove. +She uttered there a word, and here did smile. +Here she changed color. Ah, in such fond thought, +Holds me by day and night, our master Love. + + + + + IN VITA. CV. + + +I saw on earth angelic graces beam, + Celestial beauty in our world below, +Whose mere remembrance thrills with grief and woe; +All I see now seems shadow, smoke and dream. + I saw in those twin-lights the tear-drops gleam, +Those lights that made the sun with envy glow, +And from those lips such sighs and words did flow, +As made revolve the hills, stand still the stream. +Love, courage, wit, pity and pain in one, + Wept in more dulcet and harmonious strain, +Than any other that the world has known. + So rapt was heaven in the dear refrain, +That not a leaf upon the branch was blown, + Such utter sweetness filled the aerial plain. + + + + + IN VITA. CIX. + + +The God of Love and I in wonder stared, +(Ne'er having gazed on miracles ere now,) +Upon my lady's smiling lips and brow, +Who only with herself may be compared. +Neath the calm beauty of her forehead bared, +Those twin stars of my love did burn and flow, +No lesser lamps again the path might show +To the proud lover who by these had fared. +Oh miracle, when on the grass at rest, +Herself a flower, she would clasp and hold +A leafy branch against her snow-white breast. +What joy to see her, in the autumn cold, +Wander alone, with maiden thoughts possess'd, +Weaving a garland of dry, crispy gold! + + + + + IN MORTE. II. ON THE DEATH OF CARDINAL + COLONNA AND LAURA. + + +The noble Column, the green Laurel-tree +Are fall'n, that shaded once my weary mind. +Now I have lost what I shall never find, +From North to South, from Red to Indian Sea. +My double treasure Death has filched from me, +Which made me proud and happy midst my kind. +Nor may all empires of the world combined, +Nor Orient gems, nor gold restore the key. +But if this be according to Fate's will, +What may I do, but wander heavy-souled, +With ever downcast head, eyes weeping still? +O life of ours, so lovely to behold, +In one brief morn how easily dost thou spill +That which we toiled for years to gain and hold! + + + + + IN MORTE. XLIII. + + +Yon nightingale who mourns so plaintively +Perchance his fledglings or his darling mate, +Fills sky and earth with sweetness, warbling late, +Prophetic notes of melting melody. +All night, he, as it were, companions me, +Reminding me of my so cruel fate, +Mourning no other grief save mine own state, +Who knew not Death reigned o'er divinity. +How easy 't is to dupe the soul secure! +Those two fair lamps, even than the sun more bright, +Who ever dreamed to see turn clay obscure? +But Fortune has ordained, I now am sure, +That I, midst lifelong tears, should learn aright, +Naught here can make us happy, or endure. + + + + + IN VITA. CANZONE XI. + + +O waters fresh and sweet and clear, + Where bathed her lovely frame, + Who seems the only lady unto me; +O gentle branch and dear, + (Sighing I speak thy name,) + Thou column for her shapely thighs, her supple knee; +O grass, O flowers, which she + Swept with her gown that veiled +The angelic breast unseen; + O sacred air serene, +Whence the divine-eyed Love my heart assailed, + By all of ye be heard +This my supreme lament, my dying word. + + + Oh, if it be my fate + (As Heaven shall so decree) +That Love shall close for me my weeping eyes, + Some courteous friend I supplicate + Midst these to bury me, +Whilst my enfranchised spirit homeward flies; + Less dreadful death shall rise, +If I may bear this hope + To that mysterious goal. +For ne'er did weary soul +Find a more restful spot in all Earth's scope, +Nor in a grave more tranquil could win free +From outworn flesh and weary limbs to flee. + + + Perchance the time shall be + When to my place of rest, +With milder grace my wild fawn shall return + Here where she looked on me + Upon that day thrice blest: +Then she shall bend her radiant eyes that yearn +In search of me, and (piteous sight!) shall learn +That I, amidst the stones, am clay. +May love inspire her in such wise, +With gentlest breath of sighs, +That I, a stony corpse, shall hear her pray, + And force the very skies, +That I may wipe the tears from her dear eyes. + + +From the fair boughs descended + (Thrice precious memory!) +Upon her lap a shower of fragrant bloom + Amidst that glory splendid, + Humbly reposed she, +Attired as with an aureole's golden gloom. +Some blossoms edged her skirt, and some + Fell on her yellow curls, +Like burnished gold and pearls, + Even so they looked to me upon that day. +Some on the ground, some on the river lay, + Some lightly fluttering above, +Encircling her, seemed whispering: "Here reigns Love." + + + How many times I cried, + As holy fear o'ercame, +"Surely this creature sprang from Paradise," + Forgetting all beside + Her goddess mien, her frame, +Her face, her words, her lovely smile, her eyes. + All these did so devise +To win me from the truth, alas! + That I did say and sigh, +"How came I hither, when and why?" +Deeming myself in heaven, not where I was. + Henceforth this grassy spot +I love so much, peace elsewhere find I not. + My Song, wert thou adorned to thy desire, + Thou couldst go boldly forth +And wander from my lips o'er all the earth. + + + + + FRAGMENT. CANZONE XII. 5. + + +I never see, after nocturnal rain, +The wandering stars move through the air serene, +And flame forth 'twixt the dew-fall and the rime, +But I behold her radiant eyes wherein +My weary spirit findeth rest from pain; +As dimmed by her rich veil, I saw her the first time; +The very heaven beamed with the light sublime +Of their celestial beauty; dewy-wet +Still do they shine, and I am burning yet. +Now if the rising sun I see, +I feel the light that hath enamored me. +Or if he sets, I follow him, when he +Bears elsewhere his eternal light, +Leaving behind the shadowy waves of night. + + + + + FRAGMENT. TRIONFO D' AMORE. + + +I know how well Love shoots, how swift his flight, +How now by force and now by stealth he steals, +How he will threaten now, anon will smite, +And how unstable are his chariot wheels. +How doubtful are his hopes, how sure his pain, +And how his faithful promise he repeals. +How in one's marrow, in one's vital vein, +His smouldering fire quickens a hidden wound, +Where death is manifest, destruction plain. +In sum, how erring, fickle and unsound, +How timid and how bold are lovers' days, +Where with scant sweetness bitter draughts abound. +I know their songs, their sighs, their usual ways, +Their broken speech, their sudden silences. +Their passing laughter and their grief that stays, +I know how mixed with gall their honey is. + + + + + FRAGMENT. TRIONFO DELLA MORTE. + + +Now since nor grief nor fear was longer there, +Each thought on her fair face was clear to see, +Composed into the calmness of despair-- +Not like a flame extinguished violently, +But one consuming of its proper light. +Even so, in peace, serene of soul, passed she. +Even as a lamp, so lucid, softly-bright, +Whose sustenance doth fail by slow degrees, +Wearing unto the end, its wonted plight. +Not pale, but whiter than the snow one sees +Flaking a hillside through the windless air. +Like one o'erwearied, she reposed in peace +As 't were a sweet sleep filled each lovely eye, +The soul already having fled from there. +And this is what dull fools have named to die. +Upon her fair face death itself seemed fair. + + + + + + + TRANSLATIONS FROM ALFRED DE MUSSET. + + THE MAY NIGHT. + + +MUSE. +Give me a kiss, my poet, take thy lyre; +The buds are bursting on the wild sweet-briar. +To-night the Spring is born--the breeze takes fire. +Expectant of the dawn behold the thrush, +Perched on the fresh branch of the first green bush; +Give me a kiss, my poet, take thy lyre. + + +POET. + How black it looks within the vale! + I thought a muffled form did sail + Above the tree-tops, through the air. + It seemed from yonder field to pass, + Its foot just grazed the tender grass; + A vision strange and fair it was. + It melts and is no longer there. + + +MUSE. +My poet, take thy lyre; upon the lawn +Night rocks the zephyr on her veiled, soft breast. +The rose, still virgin, holds herself withdrawn +From the winged, irised wasp with love possessed. +Hark, all is hushed. Now of thy sweetheart dream; +To-day the sunset, with a lingering beam, +Caressed the dusky-foliaged linden-grove. +All things shall bloom to-night; great Nature thrills, +Her couch with perfume, passion, sighs, she fills, +Like to the nuptial bed of youthful love. + + +POET. + Why throbs my heart so fast, so low? + What sets my seething blood aglow, + And fills my sense with vague affright? + Who raps upon my chamber-door? + My lamp's spent ray upon the floor, + Why does it dazzle me with light? + Great God! my limbs sink under me! + Who enters? who is calling? none! + The clock strikes--I am all alone-- +تتتتتO solitude! O poverty! + + +MUSE. +My poet, take thy lyre. Youth's living wine +Ferments to-night within the veins divine. +My breast is troubled, stifling with desire, +The panting breeze has set my lips afire; +O listless child, behold me, I am fair! +Our first embrace dost thou so soon forget? +How pale thou wast, when my wing grazed thy hair. +Into mine arms thou fell'st, with eyelids wet! +Oh, in thy bitter grief, I solaced thee, +Dying of love, thy youthful strength outworn. +Now I shall die of hope--oh comfort me! +I need thy prayers to live until the morn. + + +POET. + Is it thy voice my spirit knows, + O darling Muse! And canst thou be + My own immortal one? my rose, + Sole pure and faithful heart where glows + A lingering spark of love for me? + Yes, it is thou, with tresses bright, + 'T is thou, my sister and my bride. + I feel amidst the shadowy night, + From thy gold gown the rays of light + Within my heart's recesses glide. + + +MUSE. +My poet, take thy lyre. 'T is I, undying, +Who seeing thee to-night so sad and dumb, +Like to the mother-bird whose brood is crying, +From utmost heaven to weep with thee have come. +My friend, thou sufferest; a secret woe +Gnaws at thy life, thou sighest in the night. +Love visits thee, such love as mortals know, +Shadow of gladness, semblance of delight. +Rise, sing to God the thoughts that fill thy brain, +Thy buried pleasures and thy long-past pain. +Come, with a kiss, where unknown regions gleam, +Awake the mingling echoes of thy days, +Sing of thy folly, glory, joy and praise, +Be all an unpremeditated dream! +Let us invent a realm where one forgets, +Come, we are all alone, the world is ours. +Green Scotland tawny Italy offsets; +Lo, Greece my mother, with her honeyed flowers, +Argos and Pteleon with its shrines and groves, +Celestial Messa populous with doves; +And Pelion with his shaggy, changing brow, +Blue Titaresus, and the gulf of steel, +Whose waves that glass the floating swan, reveal +Snowy Camyre to Oloossone's snow. +Tell me what golden dreams shall charm our sleep, +Whence shall be drawn the tears that we shall weep? +This morning when thy lids were touched with light, +What pensive seraph, bending kindly near, +Dropped lilacs from his airy robe of white, +And whispered beams of love within thine ear? +Say, shall we sing of sadness, joy or hope? +Or bathe in blood the settled, steel-clad ranks? +See lovers mount the ladder's silken rope? +Or fleck the wind with coursers' foaming flanks? +Or shall we tell whose hand the lamps above, +In the celestial mansions, year by year, +Kindles with sacred oil of life and love? +With Tarquin shall we cry, "Come, night is here!" +Or shall we dive for pearls beneath the seas, +Or find the wild goats by the alpine trees? +Bid melancholy gaze upon the skies? +Follow the huntsman on the upland lawns? +The roe uplifts her tearful, suppliant eyes, +Her heath awaits her, and her suckling fawns; +He stoops, he slaughters her, he flings her heart +Still warm amidst his panting hounds apart. +Or shall we paint a maid with vermeil cheek, +Who, with her page behind, to vespers fares, +Beside her mother, dreamy-eyed and meek, +And on her half-oped lips forgets her prayers, +Trembles midst echoing columns, hearkening +To hear her bold knight's clanging spurs outring. +Or shall we bid the heroes of old France +Scale full equipped the battlemented wall, +And so revive the simple-strained romance +Their fame inspired our troubadours withal? +Or shall we clothe soft elegies in white? +Or bid the man of Waterloo recite +His story, and the crop mown by his art, +Or ere the herald of eternal night +On his green mound with fatal wing did smite +And cross his hands above his iron heart? +Or shall we gibbet on some satire here +The name thrice-bought of some pale pamphleteer, +Who, hunger-goaded, from his haunts obscure, +Dared, quivering with impotence and spite, +Insult the hope on Genius' brow of light, +And gnaw the wreath his breath had made impure? +The lyre! the lyre! I can be still no more. +Upon the breath of spring my pinions fly. +The air supports me--from the earth I soar, +Thou weepest--God has heard--the hour is nigh! + + +POET. + Dear sister, if thou ask but this, + From friendly lips a gentle kiss, + Or one soft tear from kindly eyes, + These will I gladly give to thee. + Our love remember tenderly, + If thou remountest to the skies. + No longer I of hope shall sing, + Of fame or joy, of love or art, + Alas, not even of suffering, + My lips are locked--I lean and cling, + To hear the whisper of my heart. + + +MUSE. +What! am I like the autumn breeze for you, +Which feeds on tears even to the very grave, +For whom all grief is but a drop of dew? +O poet, but one kiss--'t was I who gave. +The weed I fain would root from out this sod +Is thine own sloth--thy grief belongs to God. +Whatever sorrow thy young heart have found, +Open it well, this ever-sacred wound +Dealt by dark angels--give thy soul relief. +Naught makes us nobler than a noble grief. +Yet deem not, poet, though this pain have come, +That therefore, here below, thou mayst be dumb. +Best are the songs most desperate in their woe-- +Immortal ones, which are pure sobs I know. +When the wave-weary pelican once more, +Midst evening-vapors, gains his nest of reeds, +His famished brood run forward on the shore +To see where high above the surge he speeds. +As though even now their prey they could destroy, +They hasten to their sire with screams of joy, +On swollen necks wagging their beaks, they cry; +He slowly wins at last a lofty rock, +Shelters beneath his drooping wing his flock, +And, a sad fisher, gazes on the sky. +Adown his open breast the blood flows there; +Vainly he searched the ocean's deepest part, +The sea was empty and the shore was bare, +And for all nourishment he brings his heart. +Sad, silent, on the stone, he gives his brood +His father-entrails and his father-blood, +Lulls with his love sublime his cruel pain, +And, watching on his breast the ruddy stain, +Swoons at the fatal banquet from excess +Of horror and voluptuous tenderness. +Sudden amidst the sacrifice divine, +Outworn with such protracted suffering, +He fears his flock may let him live and pine; +Then up he starts, expands his mighty wing, +Beating his heart, and with a savage cry +Bids a farewell of such funereal tone +That the scared seabirds from their rock-nests fly, +And the late traveller on the beach alone +Commends his soul to God--for death floats by. +Even such, O poet, is the poet's fate. +His life sustains the creatures of a day. +The banquets served upon his feasts of state +Are like the pelican's--sublime as they. +And when he tells the world of hopes betrayed, +Forgetfulness and grief, of love and hate, +His music does not make the heart dilate, +His eloquence is as an unsheathed blade, +Tracing a glittering circle in mid-air, +While blood drips from the edges keen and bare. + + +POET. + O Muse, insatiate soul, demand + No more than lies in human power. + Man writes no word upon the sand + Even at the furious whirlwind's hour. + There was a time when joyous youth + Forever fluttered at my mouth, + A merry, singing bird, just freed. + Strange martyrdom has since been mine, + Should I revive its slightest sign, + At the first note, my lyre and thine + Would snap asunder like a reed. + + + + + THE OCTOBER NIGHT. + + +POET. +My haunting grief has vanished like a dream, + Its floating fading memory seems one +With those frail mists born of the dawn's first beam, + Dissolving as the dew melts in the sun. + + +MUSE. + What ailed thee then, O poet mine; + What secret misery was thine, + Which set a bar 'twixt thee and me? + Alas, I suffer from it still; + What was this grief, this unknown ill, + Which I have wept so bitterly? + + +POET. +'T was but a common grief, well known of men. + But, look you, when our heavy heart is sore, +Fond wretches that we are! we fancy then + That sorrow never has been felt before. + + +MUSE. + There cannot be a common grief, + Save that of common souls; my friend, + Speak out, and give thy heart relief, + Of this grim secret make an end. + Confide in me, and have no fear. + The God of silence, pale, austere, + Is younger brother unto death. + Even as we mourn we're comforted, + And oft a single word is said + Which from remorse delivereth. + + +POET. +If I were bound this day to tell my woe, + I know not by what name to call my pain, +Love, folly, pride, experience--neither know + If one in all the world might thereby gain. +Yet ne'ertheless I'll voice the tale to thee, +Alone here by the hearth. But do thou take +This lyre--come nearer--so; my memory +Shall gently with the harmonies awake. + + +MUSE. + But first, or ere thy grief thou say, + My poet, art thou healed thereof? + Bethink thee, thou must speak to-day, + As free from hatred as from love. + For man has given the holy name + Of consolation unto me. + Make me no partner of thy shame, + In passions that have ruined thee. + + +POET. +Of my old wounds I am so sound and whole, + Almost I doubt they were, nor find their trace; +And in the passes where I risked my soul, + In mine own stead I see a stranger's face. +Muse, have no fear, we both may yield awhile + To this first inspiration of regret. +Oh, it is good to weep, 't is good to smile, + Remembering sorrows we might else forget. + + +MUSE. + As the watchful mother stoops + O'er her infant's cradled rest, + So my trembling spirit droops + O'er this long-closed, silent breast. + Speak! I touch the lyre's sweet strings, + Feebly, plaintively it sings, + With thy voice set free at last. + While athwart a radiant beam, + Like a light, enchanted dream, + Float the shadows of the past. + + +POET. +My days of work! sole days whereon I lived! + O thrice-beloved solitude! +Now God be praised, once more I have arrived + In this old study bare and rude. +These oft-deserted walls, this shabby den, + My faithful lamp, my dusty chair, +My palace, my small world I greet again, + My Muse, immortal, young and fair. +Thank God! we twain may sing here side by side, + I will reveal to thee my thought. +Thou shalt know all, to thee I will confide + The evil by a woman wrought. +A woman, yes! (mayhap, poor friends, ye guess, + Or ever I have said the word!) +To such a one my soul was bound, no less + Than is the vassal to his lord. +Detested yoke! within me to destroy + The vigor and the bloom of youth! +Yet only through my love I caught, in sooth, + A fleeting glimpse of joy. +When by the brook, beneath the evening-star, + On silver sands we twain would stray, +The white wraith of the aspen tree afar + Pointed for us the dusky way. +Once more within the moonlight do I see + That fair form sink upon my breast; +No more of that! Alas, I never guessed + Whither my fate was leading me. +The angry gods some victim craved, I fear, + At that ill-omened time, +Since they have punished me as for a crime, + For trying to be happy here! + + +MUSE. + A vision of remembered joy + Reveals itself to thee once more; + Why fearest thou to live it o'er, + Retracing it without annoy? + Wouldst thou confide the truth to me, + And yet those golden days disprove? + If fate has been unkind to thee, + Do thou no less, my friend, than she, + And smile upon thine early love. + + +POET. +Rather I dare to smile upon my woe. + Muse, I have said it, I would fain review +My crosses, visions, frenzy,--calmly show + The hour, place, circumstance, in order due. +'T was an autumnal evening, I recall, + Chill, gloomy; this one brings it back again. +The murmuring wind's monotonous rise and fall + Lulled sombre care within my weary brain. +I waited at the casement for my love, + And listening in the darkness black as death, +Such melancholy did my spirit move + That all at once I doubted of her faith. +The street wherein I dwelt was lonely, poor, + Lantern in hand, at times, a shade passed by, +When the gale whistled through the half-oped door. + One seemed to hear afar a human sigh. +I know not to what omen, sooth to say, + My superstitious spirit fell a prey. +Vainly I summoned courage--coward-like + I shuddered when the clock began to strike. +She did not come! Alone, with downcast head, + I stared at street and walls like one possessed. +How may I tell the insensate passion bred + By that inconstant woman in my breast! +I loved but her in all the world. One day + Apart from her seemed worse than death to me. +Yet I remember how I did essay + That cruel night to snap my chain, go free. +I named her traitress, serpent, o'er and o'er, + Recalled the anguish suffered for her sake, +Alas! her fatal beauty rose once more, + What grief, what torture in my heart to wake! +At last morn broke; with waiting vain outworn, + I fell asleep against the casement there. +I oped my lids upon the day new born, + My dazzled glance swam in the radiant air. +Then on the outer staircase, suddenly, + I heard soft steps ascend the narrow flight. +Save me, Great God! I see her--it is she! + Whence com'st thou? speak, where hast thou been this night? +What dost thou seek? who brings thee here thus late? + Where has this lovely form reclined till day, +While I alone must watch and weep and wait? + Where, and on whom hast thou been smiling, say! +Out, insolent traitress! canst thou come accurst, + And offer to my kiss thy lips' ripe charms? +What cravest thou? By what unhallowed thirst + Darest thou allure me to thy jaded arms? +Avaunt, begone! ghost of my mistress dead, + Back to thy grave! avoid the morning's beam! +Be my lost youth no more remembered! + And when I think of thee, I'll know it was a dream! + + +MUSE. + Be calm! I beg thee, I implore! + I shudder, hearing of thy pain. + O dearest friend, thy wound once more + Is opening to bleed again. + Is it so very deep, alas! + How slowly do the traces pass + Of this world's troubles! Thou, my son, + Forget her! let thy memory shun + Even to this woman's very name, + My pitying lips refuse to frame. + + +POET. + Shame upon her, who first + Treason and falsehood taught! + With grief and wrath accurst, + Who set my brain distraught. + Shame, woman baleful-eyed, + Whose fatal love entombed + In shadows of thy pride + My April ere it bloomed. + It was thy voice, thy smile, + Thy poisoned glances bright, + Which taught me to revile + The semblance of delight. + Thy grace of girlish years + Murdered my peace, my sleep. + If I lose faith in tears, + 'T is that I saw thee weep. + I yielded to thy power + A child's simplicity. + As to the dawn the flower, + So oped my heart to thee. + Doubtless this helpless heart + Was thine without defence. + Were 't not the better part + To spare its innocence? + Shame! thou who didst beget + My earliest, youngest woe. + The tears are streaming yet + Which first thou madest flow. + Quenchless this source is found + Which thou hast first unsealed. + It issues from a wound + That never may be healed. + But in the bitter wave + I shall be clean restored, + And from my soul shall lave + Thy memory abhorred! + + +MUSE. +Poet, enough! Though but one single day + Lasted thy dream of her who faithless proved, +That day insult not; whatsoe'er thou say, + Respect thy love, if thou would be beloved. +If human weakness find the task too great + Of pardoning the wrongs by others done, +At least the torture spare thyself of hate, + In place of pardon seek oblivion. +The dead lie peaceful in the earth asleep, + So our extinguished passions too, should rest. +Dust are those relics also; let us keep + Our hands from violence to their ashes blest. +Why, in this story of keen pain, my friend, + Wilt thou refuse naught but a dream to see? +Does Nature causeless act, to no wise end? + Think'st thou a heedless God afflicted thee? +Mayhap the blow thou weepest was to save. + Child, it has oped thy heart to seek relief; +Sorrow is lord to man, and man a slave, + None knows himself till he has walked with grief,-- +A cruel law, but none the less supreme, + Old as the world, yea, old as destiny. +Sorrow baptizes us, a fatal scheme; + All things at this sad price we still must buy. +The harvest needs the dew to make it ripe, + And man to live, to feel, has need of tears. +Joy chooses a bruised plant to be her type, + That, drenched with rain, still many a blossom bears. +Didst thou not say this folly long had slept? + Art thou not happy, young, a welcome guest? +And those light pleasures that give life its zest, + How wouldst thou value if thou hadst not wept? +When, lying in the sunlight on the grass, + Freely thou drink'st with some old friend--confess, +Wouldst thou so cordially uplift thy glass, + Hadst thou not weighed the worth of cheerfulness? +Would flowers be so dear unto thy heart, + The verse of Petrarch, warblings of the bird, +Shakespeare and Nature, Angelo and Art, + But that thine ancient sobs therein thou heard? +Couldst thou conceive the ineffable peace of heaven, + Night's silence, murmurs of the wave that flows, +If sleeplessness and fever had not driven + Thy thought to yearn for infinite repose? +By a fair woman's love art thou not blest? + When thou dost hold and clasp her hand in thine, +Does not the thought of woes that once possessed, + Make all the sweeter now her smile divine? +Wander ye not together, thou and she, + Midst blooming woods, on sands like silver bright? +Does not the white wraith of the aspen-tree + In that green palace, mark the path at night? +And seest thou not, within the moon's pale ray, + Her lovely form sink on thy breast again? +If thou shouldst meet with Fortune on thy way, + Wouldst thou not follow singing, in her train? +What hast thou to regret? Immortal Hope + Is shaped anew in thee by Sorrow's hand. +Why hate experience that enlarged thy scope? + Why curse the pain that made thy soul expand? +Oh pity her! so false, so fair to see, + Who from thine eyes such bitter tears did press, +She was a woman. God revealed to thee, + Through her, the secret of all happiness. +Her task was hard; she loved thee, it may be, + Yet must she break thy heart, so fate decreed. +She knew the world, she taught it unto thee, + Another reaps the fruit of her misdeed. +Pity her! dreamlike did her love disperse, + She saw thy wound--nor could thy pain remove. +All was not falsehood in those tears of hers-- + Pity her, though it were,--for thou canst love! + + +POET. + True! Hate is blasphemy. + With horror's thrill, I start, + This sleeping snake to see, + Uncoil within my heart. + Oh Goddess, hear my cries, + My vow to thee is given, + By my beloved's blue eyes, + And by the azure heaven, + By yonder spark of flame, + Yon trembling pearl, the star + That beareth Venus' name, + And glistens from afar, + By Nature's glorious scheme, + The infinite grace of God, + The planet's tranquil beam + That cheers the traveler's road, + The grass, the water-course, + Woods, fields with dew impearled, + The quenchless vital force, + The sap of all the world,-- + I banish from my heart + This reckless passion's ghost, + Mysterious shade, depart! + In the dark past be lost! + And thou whom once I met + As friend, while thou didst live, + The hour when I forget, + I likewise should forgive. + Let me forgive! I break + The long-uniting spell. + With a last tear, oh take, + Take thou, a last farewell. + Now, gold-haired, pensive Muse, + On to our pleasures! Sing-- + Some joyous carol choose, + As in the dear old Spring. + Mark, how the dew-drenched lawn + Scents the auroral hour. + Waken my love with dawn, + And pluck her garden's flower. + Immortal nature, see! + Casts slumber's veil away. + New born with her are we + In morning's earliest ray. + + + + + + + NOTES TO "EPISTLE" OF JOSHUA IBN VIVES OF ALLORQUI. + + +The life and character of Paulus de Santa Maria are thus described +by Dr. Graetz:-- + +"Among the Jews baptized in 1391, no other wrought so much harm to +his race as the Rabbi Solomon Levi of Burgos, known to Christians +as Paulus Burgensis, or de Santa Maria (born about 1351-52, died +1435) who rose to very high ecclesiastical and political rank. . . . +He had no philosophical culture; on the contrary, as a Jew, he had +been extremely devout, observing scrupulously all the rites, and +regarded as a pillar of Judaism in his own circle. . . . Possessed +by ambition and vanity, the synagogue where he had passed a short +time in giving and receiving instruction, appeared to him too narrow +and restricted a sphere. He longed for a bustling activity, aimed +at a position at court, in whatever capacity, began to live on a +grand scale, maintained a sumptuous equipage, a spirited team, and +a numerous retinue of servants. As his affairs brought him into +daily contact with Christians and entangled him in religious +discussions, he studied ecclesiastical literature in order to +display his erudition. The bloody massacre of 1391 robbed him of +all hope of reaching eminence as a Jew, in his fortieth year, and +he abruptly resolved to be baptized. The lofty degree of dignity +which he afterwards attained in Church and State, may even then have +floated alluringly before his mind. In order to profit by his +apostasy, the convert Paulus de Santa Maria gave out that he had +voluntarily embraced Christianity, the theological writings of the +Scholiast Thomas of Aquinas having taken hold of his inmost +convictions. The Jews, however, mistrusted his credulity, and +knowing him well, they ascribed this step to his ambition and his +thirst for fame. His family, consisting of a wife and son, renounced +him when he changed his faith. . . . He studied theology in the +University of Paris, and then visited the papal court of Avignon, +where Cardinal Pedro de Juna had been elected papal antagonist to +Benedict XIII. of Rome. The church feud and the schism between the +two Popes offered the most favorable opportunity for intrigues and +claims. Paulus, by his cleverness, his zeal, and his eloquence, won +the favor of the Pope, who discerned in him a useful tool. Thus he +became successively Archdeacon of Trevinjo, Canon of Seville, Bishop +of Cartagena, Chancellor of Castile, and Privy Councillor to King +Henry III. of Spain. With tongue and pen he attacked Judaism, and +Jewish literature provided him with the necessary weapons. Intelligent +Jews rightly divined in this convert to Christianity their bitterest +enemy, and entered into a contest with him. . . . + +The campaign against the malignity of Paul de Santa Maria was +opened by a young man who had formerly sat at his feet, Joshua ben +Joseph Ibn Vives, from the town of Lorca or Allorqui, a physician +and Arabic scholar. In an epistle written in a tone of humility as +from a docile pupil to a revered master, he deals his apostate +teacher heavy blows, and under the show of doubt he shatters the +foundations of Christianity. He begins by saying that the apostasy +of his beloved teacher to whom his loyal spirit had formerly clung, +has amazed him beyond measure and aroused in him many serious +reflections. He can only conceive four possible motives for such a +surprising step. Either Paulus has been actuated by ambition, love + +of wealth, pomp, and the satisfaction of the senses, or else by doubt +of the truth of Judaism upon philosophic grounds, and has renounced +therefore the religion which afforded him so little freedom and +security; or else he has foreseen through the latest cruel +persecutions of the Jews in Spain, the total extinction of the race; +or, finally, he may have become convinced of the truth of Christianity. +The writer enters therefore into an examination based upon his +acquaintance with the character of his former master, as to which of +these four motives is most likely to have occasioned the act. He +cannot believe that ambition and covetousness prompted it, "For I +remember when you used to be surrounded by wealth and attendants, you +sighed regretfully for your previous humble station, for your retired +life and communion with wisdom, and regarded your actual brilliant +position as an unsatisfactory sham happiness. Neither can Allorqui +admit that Paulus had been disturbed by philosophic scepticism, for +to the day of his baptism he had observed all the Jewish customs and +had only accepted that little kernel of philosophy which accords +with faith, always rejecting the pernicious outward shell. He must +also discard the theory that the sanguinary persecution of the Jews +could have made Paulus despair of the possible continuation of the +Jewish race, for only a small portion of the Jews dwelt among +Christians, while the majority lived in Asia and enjoyed a certain +independence. There remains only the conclusion that Paulus has +tested the new dogmas and found them sufficient. . . . Allorqui +therefore begs him to communicate his convictions and vanquish his +pupil's doubts concerning Christianity. Instead of the general +spread of divine doctrine and everlasting peace which the prophets +had associated with the advent of the Messiah, only dissension and +war reigned on earth. Indeed, after Jesus' appearance, frightful +wars had but increased. . . . And even if Allorqui conceded the +Messiahship of Jesus, the Immaculate Conception, the Resurrection, +and all incomprehensible miracles, he could not reconcile himself to +the idea of God becoming a man. Every enlightened conception of the +Deity was at variance with it. + +[Page 77 et seq. Volume 8, Second half, Graetz' History of +the Jews.] + + + Marrano..--See Verse xix., Line 7th of "Epistle." + +The enforced recipients of baptism who remained in Spain formed a +peculiar class, outwardly Christians, inwardly Jews. They might +have been called Jewish-Christians. They were looked upon with +suspicion by the Christian population, and shunned with a still +more intense hatred by the loyal Jews who gave them the name of +Marranos, the accursed. +[Page 73.] + + "Master, if thou to thy prides' goal should come, + Where wouldst thou throne--at Avignon or Rome?" + Verse xxviii. 7, 8. + +This sentence occurs in another Epistle to Paulus by Profiat Duran. + +Verses 29 and 30 are paraphrases from an epistle to Paulus by +Chasdai Crescas. + +"These are burning questions, from which the fire of the stake may +be kindled. Christianity gives itself out as a new revelation in a +certain sense completing and improving Judaism. But the revelation +has so little efficacy, that in the prolonged schism in the Church, +a new divine message is already needed to scatter the dangerous errors. +Two Popes and their partisans fulminate against each other bulls of +excommunication and condemn each other to profoundest hell. Where is +the truth and certainty of revelation?" [Graetz' History of the Jews.] + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Poems of Emma Lazarus, Vol. II + diff --git a/old/2mlaz10.zip b/old/2mlaz10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2dbf5c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2mlaz10.zip |