THE FREEDOM OF THE JEW
When I perceive that in these western landsOur freedom drugs that stubborn discontentThat saved us from old alien vengeful hands:What torture strengthened is by kindness bent;That now the fire consuming Judah's heartBut burns more slowly to gain strength of grip;And here an awful silence doth impartUneasiness: death seals the prophet lip—Oh then worse woe, it seems, we suffer nowThan ever bore the martyrs we revere,Whose necks one brief cruel moment down would bow,But age-long agonies tear out life here!Must Zion ever des'late, speechless stand,And Israel waste its strength in slow decay?Ah no! for ever 'tis a promised land,And soon a lovely dawn proclaims the dayWhen Zion's temple thunders out God's word;All Israel comes to sing before the Lord!
The Western Cedar
Agleam this cedar's verdant branches spread,Entangling myriad sunbeams' flashing flight,Embracing in cool shade a mellow lightOf grassy green subdued in holy dreadOf this staunch knotty trunk; its rearing headYearns to the sky, declaring still the mightOf Him who planted Lebanon; this sightBut curtains crimson years when martyrs bled.But see, around each writhing rooty spotThere creeps a fatal weed; and every boughFeels at its heart a slowly gripping rot,Portending soon a hoary pride laid low.Oh, Holy Land! I feel your great soul moveYour desert a more fertile soil to prove.