The Poems of Emma Lazarus, Volume 2 / Jewish poems: Translations

     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.]

     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.

     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!

     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.