These flames that would eclipse it, dark as blots
Of candle-light against the blazing sun.
We die a thousand deaths, — drown, bleed, and hum ;
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 inmiortal, 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.[1]
Even as we die in honor, hoxa 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 —
- ↑ The vine creeps on the earrh, 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.
