Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/84

70 Cry, and they answer: commune with your soul, And they send counsel: weep with rainy grief, And these will sweeten you your bitterest tears. On one condition King Admetus lives, And ye, on hearing, will lament no more, Each emulous to save.&quot; Then—for she spake Assured, as having heard an oracle— They asked: &quot; What deed of ours may serve the king? &quot; &quot;The Fates accept another life for his, And one of you may die.&quot; Smiling, she ceased. But silence answered her. &quot;What! do ye thrust Your arrows in your hearts beneath your cloaks, Dying like Greeks, too proud to own the pang? This ask I not. In all the populous land But one need suffer for immortal praise. The generous Fates have sent no pestilence, Famine, nor war: it is as though they gave Freely, and only make the boon more rich By such slight payment. Now a people mourns, And ye may change the grief to jubilee, Filling the cities with a pleasant sound. But as for me, what faltering words can tell My joy, in extreme sharpness kin to pain? A monument you have within my heart, Wreathed with kind love and dear remem brances; And I will pray for you before I crave Pardon and pity for myself from God.