But, oh! 'twas a dark and fearful theme
That fill'd each crowded page-
The gather'd records of human crime
From every race and age.
All the blood that the Earth had seen
Since Abel's crimson'd her early green;
All the vice that had poison'd life
Since Lamech wedded his second wife;
All the pride that had mock'd the skies
Since they built old Babel's wall;-
But the page of the broken promises
Was the saddest page of all.
It seem'd a fearful mirror made
For friendship ruin'd and love betray'd,
For toil that had lost its fruitless pain,
And hope that had spent its strength in vain;
For all who sorrow'd o'er broken faith-
Whate'er their fortunes in life or death-
Were there in one ghastly pageant blent
With the broken reeds on which they leant.
And foul was many a noble crest
By the Nations deem'd unstain'd
And, deep on brows which the Church had bless'd, The traitor's brand remain'd.
For vows in that blacken'd page had place
Which time had ne'er reveal'd
And many a faded and furrow'd face
By death and dust conceal'd—
Eyes that had worn their light away
In weary watching from day to day,
And tuneful voices which Time had heard
Grow faint with the sickness of hope deferr'd.
The Rabbi read till his eye grew dim
With the mist of gathering tears,
For it woke in his soul the frozen stream
Which had slumber'd there for years
And he turn'd to clear his clouded sight,
From that blacken'd page to the sky so bright—
And joy'd that the folly, crime, and care
Of Earth could not cast one shadow there.
For the stars had still the same bright look
That in Eden's youth they wore;-
And he turn'd again to the ponderous book-
But the book he found no more;
Nothing was there but the moon's pale beam-
And whence that volume of wonder came,
Or how it pass'd from his troubled view,
The Sage might marvel, but never knew!
Long and well had Ben Levi preach'd
Against the sins of men—
And many a sinner his sermon reach'd
By the power of page and pen;
Childhood's folly, and manhood's vice,
And age with its boundless avarice,
All were rebuk'd, and little ruth
Had he for the venial sins of youth.
But never again to mortal ears
Did the Rabbi preach of aught
But the mystery of trust and tears
By that wondrous volume taught.
And if he met a youth and maid
Beneath the linden boughs-
Oh, never a word Ben Levi said,
But-"Beware of Broken Vows!"
The Emperor and the Rabbi
LD Rabbi, what tales dost thou pour in mine ear,
What visions of glory, what phantoms of fear,
Of a God, all the gods of the Roman above,
A mightier than Mars, a more ancient than Jove?
"Let me see but His splendors, I then shall believe. 'Tis the senses alone that can never deceive.
But show me your Idol, if earth be His shrine,
And your Israelite God shall, old dreamer, be mine!"
It was Trajan that spoke, the stoical sneer
Still played on his features sublime and severe,
For, round the wild world that stooped to his throne,
He knew but one god, and himself was that one!
"The God of our forefathers," low bowed the Seer, "Is unseen by the eye, is unheard by the ear; He is Spirit and knows not the body's dark chain; Immortal His nature, eternal His reign.
"He is seen in His power, when the storm is abroad; In His justice, when guilt by His thunders is awed; In His mercy, when mountain and valley and plain Rejoice in His sunshine, and smile in His rain."
"Those are dreams," said the monarch, "wild fancies of old:
But what God can I worship, when one I behold? Can I kneel to the lightning, or bow to the wind? Can I worship the shape, that but lives in the mind?"
"I shall show thee the herald He sends from His throne."
Through the halls of the palace the Rabbi led on, Till above them was spread but the sky's sapphire
And, like surges of splendor, beneath them lay Rome.
And towering o'er all, in the glow of the hour,
The Capitol shone, earth's high centre of power;
A thousand years glorious, yet still in its prime;
A thousand years more, to be conquered of Time.
But the West was now purple, the eve was begun; Like a monarch at rest, on the hills lay the sun; Above him the clouds their rich canopy rolled, With pillars of diamond, and curtains of gold.
The Rabbi's proud gesture was turned to the orb: "O King! let that glory thy worship absorb!" "What! worship that sun, and be blind by the gaze?" No eye but the eagle's could look on that blaze."
"Ho! Emperor of earth, if it dazzles thine eye
To look on that orb, as it sinks from the sky,"
Cried the Rabbi, "what mortal could dare to see
The Sovereign of him, and the Sovereign of thee!"
GEORGE CROLY.
HIDDEN in the ancient Talmud,
Slumbereth this legend old,
By the stately Jewish Rabbis
To the listening people told;
Jacob's ladder still is standing,
And the angels o'er it go
Up and down from earth to heaven,
Ever passing to and fro;
Messengers from great Jehovah
Bringing mortals good or ill,
Just as we from laws unchanging,
Good or evil shall distill.
He of Death, with brow majestic,
Cometh wreathed with asphodel;
He of life, with smile seraphic,
Softly saying, "All is well."
He of Pain, with purple pinions,
He of Joy, all shining bright;
He of Hope, with wings cerulean;
He of innocence, all white.
And the rustling of their pinions,
With the falling of their feet,
Turneth into notes of music,
Grand and solemn, soft and sweet.
One-and only one-stands ever
On the ladder's topmost round,
Just outside the gate celestial,
List'ning as to catch some sound;
But it is not angel music
Unto which he bends his ear,
'Tis the passing prayer of mortals
That he patient waits to hear.
By him messengers are flitting,
But he ever standeth there,
For he is the Great Sandalphon
Who is gathering every prayer.
In his hands they turn to garlands,
From whose flowers a fragrance floats
Through the open gates celestial,
Mingled with the angels' notes.
For outside the golden portal
Of that city of the skies
All the earthly dross and passion
Of the prayer of mortal dies.
'Tis the heavenly essence only
That can find an entrance there,
Turned into the scent of flowers
By Sandalphon-Him of Prayer.
Based upon a passage of the Midrash, Bereshit Rabba,
NCE th' omnipotent Maker of world without end
Bade the hosts of His angels in council attend;
And thus in His wisdom supernal He, spake T
"In the confines of earth in our image we'll make
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