FUNEREAL SKETCHES. 109 



But there he stood with searching eye, 



Bent keenly on their files, 

 Who thought they knew him him a spy, 



And death within his smiles. 



I found the same in other days, 



His features now the sign, 

 His altered garb no more displays 



The Jewish Gabardine. 

 Yet the same eager glance was bent 



On twelve, of other creed 

 Than his, the traitor's, though they'd learnt 



Of him and of his deed. 



Once more elapsed the course of years, 



With lapse of joy and pain, 

 And lo ! that man of hopes and fears 



He crossed me once again : 

 Apart as heretofore though one 



In lineaments like his 

 Had made the convicts 7 floating den 



His paradise of bliss ; 

 Changed yet not changed, for, still apart, 



In nought as they he felt, 

 Save when it chafed, as on his heart, 



The felon's iron belt. 

 Apart yet not alone : his clan, 



Themselves an outcast race, 

 Had thrust him from them, and their ban 



Left him no hiding place; 

 Save where one Hebrew maiden's breast 



Was his asylum still, 

 Save where by her his place of rest 



Stood fixed as Sion's hill. 



For him the Hebrew maiden's prayer, 



In one unvarying tone, 

 Went up to heaven, not unheard there, 



Before th' Eternal's throne. 

 The changeling heart let others court 



Lord, shrive this thought of mine 

 ; Tis truth to bow through ill report 



At our paternal shrine. Eos. 



