Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/91

74 How fair she is ! Her hair has kept its gold Untarnished still. I trace not either parent In her face, clean cut as a gem.

Her mother Was far-off kin to me, and I might pass, I 'm told, ungaessed in Christian garb. I know A pretty secret of that scornful face. It lures high game to Nordhausen.

Baruch, I marvel at your prompt credulity. The Prince of Meissen and Liebhaid von Orb ! A jest for gossips and — Look, look, he comes !

Who 's that, the Prince ?

Nay, dullard, the old man, The Rabbi of Chinon. Ah ! his stout staff. And that brave creature's strong young hand suffice Scarcely to keep erect his tottering frame. Emaciate-lipped, with cavernous black eyes Whose inward visions do eclipse the day,