Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/126

108 I know All heinoosness imputed by their foes. Father, mistake me not : I urge no plea To shield this hellnspawn, loathed by all who love The lamb and kiss the Cross. I had not guessed Such obscure creatures crawled upon my path, Had not my son — I know not how misled — Deigned to ennoble with his great regard, A sparkle midst the dust motes. She is sacred. What is her tribe to me ? Her kith and kin May rot or roast — tiie Jews of Nordhausen May hang, drown, perish like the Jews of France, But she shall live — Liebhaid von Orb, the Jewess, The Prince, my son, elects to love. Amen! Washed in baptismal waters she shall be Led like the clean-fleeced yeanling to the fold. Trust me, my daughter — for through me the Church Which is the truth, which is the life, doth speak. Yet first 't were best essay to cure the Prince Of his moon-fostered madness, bred, no doubt. By baneful potions which these cunning knaves Are skilled to mix.