Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/29

You know not, who are foreign to the isle,
Haply, what this Bed Disk may he, he guards.
'T is the bright blotch, big as the Royal seal,
Branded heneath the heard of every Jew.
These vermin so infest the isle, so slide
Into all hyways, highways that may lead
Direct or roundahont to wealth or power,
Some plain, plump mark was needed, to protect
From the degrading contact Christian folk.

The evil had grown monstrous : certain Jews
Wore such a haughty air, had so refined,
With super-suhtile arts, strict, monkish lives,
And studious habit, the coarse Hebrew type.
One might have elbowed in the public mart
Iscariot,—nor suspected one's soul-peril.
Christ's blood ! it sets my flesh a-creep to think!
We may breathe freely now, not fearing taint,
Praised be our good Lord Bishop! He keeps count
Of every Jew, and prints on cheek or chin
The scarlet stamp of separateness, of shame.

No beard, blue-black, grizzled or Judas-colored,
May hide that damning little wafer-flame.
When one appears therewith, the urchins know
Good sport 's at hand ; they fling their stones and mud.
Sure of their game. But most the wisdom shows
Upon the unbelievers' selves; they learn