Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By William DearnessA Tale from the Talmud
I
When chronicles were gilt with glory,
Heroic dames and virgins then
The equal honors earned with men;
And God himself the prophet taught
To praise and bless them as he ought.
My rhyme runs eager to relate
Their courage firm, their high resolve,
Their faith that nothing could dissolve.
Oh, that enthusiasm strong
Would from the theme inspire the song;
That in this sad, degenerate time
I’d write in poetry sublime—
What might some grace of emulation
Raise in a faint and prostrate nation.
The task of God’s inerrant showing;
How nature’s best and noblest sons
Are cursed and crushed by worthless ones;
But this I know, that virtues holy
Are brightened by contrasting folly,
And constant courage best was shown
When persecutors had the throne,
And columns high had ne’er been reared,
Had no invading foe appeared;
And when to desperate straits we’re brought,
Then God’s deliverance is wrought.
Had seen th’ extreme of war’s alarms,
O’erthrown her temple and her city,
Her children slaughtered without pity;
The demon conqueror intended
Her name and fame should both be ended.
He thought one dreadful, dire example
Of horrid torture might be ample,
Now that Jehovah’d them forsaken
And from his folk his flight had taken.
Her seven sons he also looses;
In public presence will them test,
To answer his supreme behest.
“Now, bending down, our gods adore.”
“The Lord forbid,” he reverent cries;
“His holy law such act denies.
I to no image—neither thee—
Shall kiss the hand nor bend the knee.”
His trust in Israel’s God unshaken.
Who witnessed how his brother perished,
At once responded: “Shall I less
Than his my faith in God confess?
I love God’s law—its second word
Is none but he is Israel’s Lord.”
And so he died for truth and faith.
The third, undaunted, also saith:
“None but Jehovah worship I”—
And likewise he was drawn to die.
The fourth the traitor’s awful doom
Sets forth: “Who in Jehovah’s room
Shall worship hero, god or demon”—
His young life, too, the sword makes claim on.
“And him alone I’ll own in death.”
So died the fifth; our watchword brave
Fresh courage to the next one gave:
“Jehovah—terrible is he
Who, Israel, dwells in midst of thee;
He may his awful plans conceal,
But in his time he’ll them reveal.”
So passed the youthful sixth, in dying,
“Jehovah, take me,” meekly sighing.
The tyrant pleads: “My boy, you’ve seen
How vain it is to trust in one
Who utmost unconcern has shown.
’Tis only to respect our law—
I’d put your countrymen in awe;
For Rome, supreme, must be obeyed—
Nor gods nor emperor gainsaid.
The test from thee’s a simple thing—
In front of Jove I’ll drop my ring,
Stoop down and pick it up; no thought
Of inferential change is wrought.”
The tyrant’s seeming mercy spurned;
His soul kept free from heathen stains
Breaks forth in rapt prophetic strains:
“Forever reigns our glorious Lord—
Performed shall be his faithful word;
His kingdom raised, while ruined thine
He’ll to oblivion consign.
As chastened Israel suffers now,
So shall he purer offerings vow.
His faith in days that have gone by
Endear him to his God most high,
And future glories wait the day
When all mankind shall own his sway;
Were but to show His power to thee.”
He thus to Chaldea’s king made known
His sovereign Lord and God alone.
The prostrate king the word obeyed
And favor found and humbly prayed.
To God’s own folk he mercy showed
And so was blessed in his abode;
But thou, nor truth nor mercy giving,
Are but for greater vengeance living.
Prevention weak the mother tries,
With arms enfolding makes her plea:
“O let him not be torn from me—
My seventh, my last, my life, my all!
On me let first thy vengeance fall.
Sword, come on me, nor let me see
The death of one so dear to me!”
“Your law forbids that you should die;
‘Ye dare not slay the dam that day
Ye take the offspring’s life away.’”
Thy sins thy guilty soul shall load,
Till down to depths thou shalt be driven,
Transcending all that fell from heaven.
But go, my son, when Abra’m thou
In blissful peace shalt meet, avow
Superior reverence to me—
For I gave seven, but one gave he—
But tempted was his faith when tried,
See mine performed—my Isaacs died.
Why should she linger here alone—
Wandering unguarded, heedless, fell
She whom her Lord had honored well.
That might such awful honors claim?
For answer: In my northern home
You’ll see, ere wintry weather come,
The fields the cheery flowers adorn,
Bejeweled bright at early morn;
Then fierce the driving, biting storm
Will bare the meads of every form
That spring and summer spread around
So lavish on the fertile ground.
But brightly then the heather bell
Purple the hills I love so well.
When dangerous foxgloves, crimson clover
Lie hid till winter storms are over;
The bloom upon the Arcadian hills
Is blown by that which verdure kills.
Her hero dames shall bloom amain.