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THE DANCE TO DEATH.
The world belongs to man; dreams the poor brute
Some nook has been apportioned for brute life ?
Where shall a man escape men's cruelty ?
Where shall Grod's servant cower from his doom ?
Let us bide, brethren — we are in His hand.
BABBI GBESSELIN (uttering a piercing shriek).
Ah!
Woe unto Israel ! Lo, I see again,
As the Ineffable foretold. I see
A flood of Are that streams towards the town.
Look, the destroying Angel with the sword,
Wherefrom the drops of gaU are raining down,
Broad-winged, comes flying towards you. Now he draws
His lightning-glittering blade ! With the keen edge
He smiteth Israel — ah !
[He falls hack dead. Confusion in the Synagogue,
CLAIRE (from the gallery).
Father! My father!
Let me go down to him !
LIEBHAID.
Sweet girl, be patient.
This is the House of Grod, and He hath entered.
Bow we and pray.