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 GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK.
SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OP 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 conmoiand,
Broad-cheeked, 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.
