Classic Poem

If the sudden tidings came
— That on some far, foreign coast,
Buried ages long from fame,
— Had been found a remnant lost
Of that hoary race who dwelt
— By the golden Nile divine,
Spake the Pharaoh's tongue and knelt
— At the moon-crowned Isis' shrine —
How at reverend Egypt's feet,
Pilgrims from all lands would meet!

If the sudden news were known,
— That anigh the desert-place
Where once blossomed Babylon,
— Scions of a mighty race
Still survived, of giant build,
— Huntsmen, warriors, priest and sage,
Whose ancestral fame had filled,
— Trumpet-tongued, the earlier age,
How at old Assyria's feet
Pilgrims from all lands would meet!

Yet when Egypt's self was young,
— And Assyria's bloom unworn,
Ere the mythic Homer sung,
— Ere the gods of Greece were born,
Lived the nation of one God,
— Priests of freedom, sons of Shem,
Never quelled by yoke or rod,
— Founders of Jerusalem —
Is there one abides to-day,
Seeker of dead cities, say!

Answer, now as then, they are;
— Scattered broadcast o'er the lands,
Knit in spirit nigh and far,
— With indissoluble bands.
Half the world adores their God,
— They the living law proclaim,
And their guerdon is — the rod,
— Stripes and scourgings, death and shame.
Still on Israel's head forlorn,
Every nation heaps its scorn.