[How dear thou art to me — heart of my heart,
Mine, mine, all mine to-day ! the pioas thought,
The orient spirit mine, the Jewish soul.
The glowing veins that aucked life-nourishment
From Hebrew mother's milk. Look at me, Liebhaid.
Tell me you love me. Pity me, my God !
No fiercer pang than this did Jephthah know.
LIEBHAID.
Father, what wild and wandering words are these ?
Is all hope lost ?
SUSSKIND
Nay, God Is good to us.
I am 80 well assured the town is safe,
That I can weep my private losB — of thee.
An ugly dream I had, quits not my sense.
That you, made Princess of Thuringia,
Forsook your father, and forswore your race.
Forgive me, Liehh^d, I ani calm again,
We must be brave — I who besought my tribe
To bide their fate in Nordhansen, and you
Whom God elects for a peculiar lot.
With many have I talked; some crouched at home.
Some wringing hands about the public ways.
I gave all comfort. I am very weary.
My children, we had heat go in and pray.
Solace and safety dwell but in the Lord.
[Exeant.
