Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/39

22 , Israel! your tardy meed outpour Of grateful homage on his fallen head, That never coronal of triumph wore, Untombed, dishonored, and unchapleted. If Victory makes the hero, raw Success The stamp of virtue, unremembered Be then the desperate strife, the storm and stress Of the last Warrior Jew. But if the man Who dies for freedom, loving all things less, Against world-legions, mustering his poor clan; The weak, the wronged, the miserable, to send Their death-cry's protest through the ages' span— If such an one be worthy, ye shall lend Eternal thanks to liim, eternal praise. Nobler the conquered than the conqueror's end ! two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate, Didst weep when Spain cast forth with flaming sword. The children of the prophets of the Lord, Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate. Hounded from sea to sea, from state to state. The West refused them, and the East abhorred. No anchorage the known world could afford. Close-locked was every port, barred every gate.