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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: James Edward Fitzgerald Volume

VIII

page break

VIII.

vignette

81.
Far other faith inspir'd the Hebrew horde
To claim the agency of wrath divine,
When in a fierce resistless flood they pour'd
Through all the vine-clad vales of Palestine,
And to their conquering sword whole nations gave,
Man, woman, child, and infant swept into the grave,

82.
A race whose infancy in slavery groan'd
Till trained to freedom in the wilderness,
Rebellious even to the God they own'd,
To fellow men stern, proud, and pitiless;
In the traditions of this race we find
The germs of that belief which now rules half mankind.

83.
In such a race the Hebrew God arose,
A "God of Battles" and a "Lord of Hosts,"
Hurling red handed vengeance on their foes,
Sweeping their enemies from all their coasts,
Aiding with Nature's powers, earth, air, and water,
A fragment of mankind in its career of slaughter.

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84.
A God of mercy, but whose mercies shone
With jealous beams upon a single clan,
His majesty revealing to but one
Of all the countless families of man;
Leaving in darkness all the world beside,
Without a voice to teach or heavenly light to guide.

85.
And yet, unlike the gods who typified
Alike the vice and virtue of mankind,
The Jew in his Jehovah deified
Alone the nobler instincts of the mind;
Wisdom and justice, truth and mercy shone
In Israel's God, but shone for Israel's sons alone.

86.
From age to age the prophets' awful cry
Throughout the land like mutt'ring thunder roll'd,
Denouncing dooms on lust and tyranny,
The thirst for power, and the greed for gold—
Impending dooms self-wrought, which ever light
On all who violate th' eternal laws of right.

87.
Destroying time swept on; the old faith wan'd,
Though faithless priests still throng'd the temple gate;
And gorgeous ceremonial yet remain'd,
Like robes of some dead monarch lying in state—
Street-corner prayers, and broad phylacteries,
Alms to be seen of men, and foul hypocricies.

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83.
Still'd were the thunders round Sinai's head,
The luminous column's guiding light had pal'd,
No angel's food th' untoiling people fed,
The stream from Horeb's stricken rock had fail'd;
The wondrous myths, which once had been their guide
To glory, now but fed a fierce fanatic pride.