asks the distracted maiden, torn between her love for he princely
wooer and her devotion to the people among whom her lot has been cast.


"O God!
How shall I pray for strength to love him less
Than mine own soul!
No more of that,
I am all Israel's now. Till this cloud pass,
I have no thought, no passion, no desire,
Save for my people."


Individuals perish, but great ideas survive,--fortitude and courage,
and that exalted loyalty and devotion to principle which alone are
worth living and dying for.

The Jews pass by in procession--men, women, and children--on their
way to the flames, to the sound of music, and in festal array,
carrying
the gold and silver vessels, the roll of the law, the perpetual lamp
and the seven branched silver candle-stick of the synagogue. The
crowd hoot and jeer at them.


"The misers! they will take their gems and gold
Down to the grave!"