And one announces to the other,
"This day we keep a feast of union!"
Their children all they immolate,
As free-will gifts, as bonds of love.
THEY seized our holy congregations,
And sent among them fire, murder!
The heroes all, Thy true adorers,
Together met in convocation.
They spared no more their offspring,
Thy faith alone they honored.
The great and small, together
With mothers' babes, were slaughtered
Like offerings at the festive season.
} They shouted out, "Remove your horrors,
Not them, but death we freely follow!"
And from the homes resounded wailing;
And in the streets the sword made havoc.
"C give me death!" the son entreated;
This filled the father's heart with gladness,
As though he went to joyous nuptials.
The loving hand had hushed all sorrows,
And from distress it brought deliverance;
It led the friend to blissful slumber,
ALTHOUGH tormented and ill-treated,
And dragged to die upon the scaffold,
We cling to Thee with growing fervor.
They strike and wound us sorely,
To turn our hearts from Him that liveth,
And to impress us with their worship.
They tempt us with enticements,
And would ensnare us with their cunning;
That we, deserting Thee, should barter
Our faith for faith in Baal's power.
Embroidered even on their vesture
Is shown to us the sign of terror.
With flattery, too, they would beguile us;
But we are Thine, though maimed and shattered!
The pious wives despatch the work
And offer up their guileless babes,
The fathers quickly slay their sons,
And wish not to survive their dead.
To render homage to Thy unity,
The young, the fair, prepare for death,
With "Hear O Israel!" on their lips.
The bride and bridegroom now breathe forth
The dying words, "The Lord is One!"
They who, in life were wedded,
Through hallowed death are reunited.
KALONYMUS BEN JUDAH.
"WHY so sad, thou princely child?"
Moloch's servants scornfully chide,
Times appear and pass away
Why does son of Jesse hide?
If your God in Heaven's height
Will bring you to His holy hill
Wherefore then we seek to know
Why His chariots linger still?
I hoped that all my foes
Would see my swift redemption;
But they mock and say: "Away as a cloud
It passeth; no hope is left for thee."
I hearken shame-filled, and my tears,
Flow unresistingly.
The Massacre of the Jews at York
"And scattered and scorn'd as thy people may be, "Our worship, O Father, is only for thee." BYRON. THERE is an old and stately hall,
Hung round with many a spear and shield, And sword and buckler on the wall
Won from the foe in tented field:
Yet there no warrior bands are seen,
With martial step and lofty mien;
But men with care, not age, grown white,
Meet in York Castle hall to-night,
And groups of maids and matrons too,
With hair and eyes, whose jetty hue
Belong to Judea's sunny land,
Are mingling with that sorrowing band:
What doth the Jew-the wandering race
Of Israel, in such dwelling place?
From persecution's deadly rage
A refuge in those walls they sought,
The zealots of a barb'rous age,
Ruin upon their tribes had brought.
All was silent without, there was not a sound,
There was not a whisper, there was not a breath
To disturb the silence still and profound,
All was hush'd as the vale of the shadow of death:
Within was tumult-loud and wild debate
'Mongst those who at that midnight council sate;
Famine was on each check, and every eye
Told fearfully of its wild ministry.
Starvation and despair their councils urg'd,
And in those feelings every other merged:
Parents almost forgot their children's cry
In their own overwhelming misery;
As the rush of the waves when the winds are in motion,
And the storm-gods abroad on the dark heaving ocean,
Was the voice of the crowd 'til the Rabbi arose,
Then at once every sound was hush'd into repose.
Bent was his form, but more with care than age,
Sorrow had worn the furrows in his face;
Yet in the features of the revered sage
Somewhat of youthful ardour might you trace,
As the old oak that's hollow'd out by time
Seems to retain the vigour of its prime,
"Men of Israel," he said, with a proud flashing eye,
"This night doth Jehovah command us to die.
The death of the brave, for the laws that He gave,
Leave bondage and chains for the coward and slave!
What is our crime, O what is the deed,
For which so many are doom'd to bleed?
Strangers-alike through every clime, we are hurl'd,
Through every land our seed is spread abroad-
Scorn'd and despised, the outcasts of the world,
Yet still the chosen people of our God!
We asked these Britons for a home,
A shelter from the inclement skies:
Have we despoiled a Christian dome,
Or sought a Christian sacrifice?
We did but ask a dwelling place,
And in return our wealth we gave;
They spurn'd us as an outcast race,
And brand us with the name of slave:
They hate us, for we seek to tread
The peaceful path our fathers trod;
They hate us, for we bow our heads
Before the shrine of Israel's God;
And now because we sought to bring
A tribute to their new crown'd king,
Like savage beasts they hunt us down,
Their streets with Jewish dead are strewn;
And they who can boast of mercy and love,
And picture their God in the form of a dove,
Are athirst for our blood, our possession they crave! But the wealth we have toiled for, they never shall
While there's fire on the hearthstone or sword in the hall,
By the hand of each other 'tis better to fall:
There have been times, and this is such a time,
When even suicide is not a crime:
Behold how your wives and your children are cling
Around ye, and pray for a morsel of bread,
While the cold heartless wretches beneath have been flinging
Profusion away, and they carelessly tread
On the food that your wives and your children would
From the pangs of starvation-the jaws of the grave!
Then shall such monsters triumph o'er us?
They think that yield, to them we must,
Where'er we turn there's death before us;
We cannot to their mercy trust,
We cannot on their faith rely,
Then let us see our dear ones die;
Thus, thus will we defy our foes,
By our own hands they all shall bleed,
Their blood be on the heads of those
Who goaded us to such a deed.
The husband turneth to his wife,
The lover to his lov'd doth cling-
To raise an arm against the life
Of woman, is a fearful thing!
Aye, so it is: but I have here
A stake that is to me as dear,
The solace of my widow'd years,
The object of my fondest cares.'
He pointed where there stood apart
Watching the chosen one of her heart,
A maiden passing fair;
Her raven hair was backward flung,
And on her brow of snow there hung
A dark cloud of despair,
Ah! little did poor Rachel deem
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