Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/36

Simon the fair, the Burst-of Spring, the Gem,
Eleazar, Help of-God; o'er all his clan
Judas the Lion-Prince, the Avenging Rod,
Towered in warrior-beauty, uncrowned king.
Armed with the breastplate and the sword of God,
Whose praise is: "He received the perishing."

They who had camped within the mountain-pass,
Couched on the rock, and tented neath the sky.
Who saw from Mizpah's heights the tangled grass
Choke the wide Temple-courts, the altar lie
Disfigured and polluted—who had flung
Their faces on the stones, and mourned aloud
And rent their garments, wailing with one tongue.
Crushed as a wind-swept bed of reeds is bowed.

Even they by one voice fired, one heart of flame.
Though broken reeds, had risen, and were men.
They rushed upon the spoiler and o'ercame.
Each arm for freedom had the strength of ten.
Now is their mourning into dancmg turned,
Their sackcloth doffed for garments of delight.
Week-long the festive torches shall be burned.
Music and revelry wed day with night.

Still ours the dance, the feast, the glorious Psalm,
The mystic lights of emblem, and the Word.
Where is our Judas? Where our five-branched palm?
Where are the lion-warriors of the Lord?