Their proper rank; crouch, cringe, and hide,—lay by
Their insolence of self-esteem; no more
Flaunt forth in rich attire, but in dull weeds.
Slovenly donned, would slink past unobserved;
Bow servile necks and crook obsequious knees.
Chin sunk in hollow chest, eyes fixed on earth
Or blinking sidewise, but to apprehend
Whether or not the hated spot be spied.
I warrant my Lord Bishop has full hands.
Guarding the Red Disk—lest one rogue escape !
THE NEW EZEKIEL.
What, can these dead bones live, whose sap is dried
By twenty scorching centuries of wrong?
Is this the House of Israel, whose pride
Is as a tale that's told, an ancient song?
Are these ignoble relics all that live
Of psalmist, priest, and prophet? Can the breath
Of very heaven bid these bones revive.
Open the graves and clothe the ribs of death?
Tea, Prophesy, the Lord hath said. Again
Say to the wind, Gome forth and breathe afresh,
Even that they may live upon these slain,
And hone to bone shall leap, and flesh to flesh-
