POETRY.
LINES TO AN ANTI-SEMITE.
STAND! as God saw thee of old time
We see and know thee now : The brand of nnforgotten crime Still black upon thy brow.
That mark, Eternal Justice traced, Thou coverest in vain ; Its blighting stigma nneffaced Where is thy brother, Cain?
Aye, hypocrite, and if thou wilt, White hands, in protest, spread! The blood by coarser murderers spilt Was at thy bidding shed.
Thy speech inflamed each ignorant soul With thine own maddening wine ; And when their fury burst control, Their brutal acts were thine.
For thee, the crowded Plaza seethed Round Seville's high-built pyre ; And shrinking forms of women wreathed With coiling snakes of fire.
Thy servants fanned their ardent breath Into a fiercer flame ; And watched, well-pleased, the dallying death, That lingered ere it came. But thou halt darker secrete yet, And deeds more dear to Hell. The sightless, soundless oubliette Hath kept thy counsel well.
The silent hours that crush the heart, The soul-destroying gloom : Thine, Devil, was the fiendish art Devised that living tomb.
Woe, woe on the unhappy State, That learns thy bloody creed ; And makes her mansion desolate Thy cruel lust to feed.
Before one dread, impartial Bar Her sons shall find, ere long, How terrible the helpless are, The feeble ones how strong !
Lo! where the dotard Empress, Spain, With loosened necklace stands, While those fair jewels, grain by grain, Slip frum her nerveless hands ! Unmoved she sees her pearls depart, And smiles with alien eyes; For heavy on her palsied heart The curse of Israel lies.
Foul shark, whose malice never sleeps, On noblest victims fed : What swimmer bold shall cleave the deeps Thy ravin left so red ; And when thy bulk sways up to breathe On that encrimsoned tide, With one unerring home-thrust sheathe His dagger in thy side P
EDWARD SYDNEY TYLEE.
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