Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/116

102 Uprolled its threatening clouds of dusky blue, And angry thunder grumbled through the hills, And earth grew dark at noonday, till the flash Of the thin lightning through the wide sky leapt, And tumbling showers scoured along the plain. Then folk who saw the pilgrim penitent, Drenched, weird, and hastening as to some strange doom, Swore that the wandering Jew had crossed their land, And the Lord Christ had sent the deadly bolt Harmless upon his cursed, immortal head. At length the hill-side city s spires and roofs, With all its western windows smitten red By a rich sunset, and with massive towers Of its cathedral overtopping all, Greeted his sight. Some weary paces more, And as the twilight deepened in the streets, He stood within the minster. How serene, In sculptured calm of centuries, it seemed ! How cool and spacious all the dim-lit aisles, Still hazy with the fumes of frankincense ! The vesper had been said, yet here and there A wrinkled beldam, or a mourner veiled, Or burly burgher on the cold floor knelt, And still the organist, with wandering hands, Drew from the keys mysterious melodies, And filled the church with flying waifs of song, That with ethereal beauty moved the soul To a more tender prayer and gentler faith