In such a chain of chance I think the Sister,
As wife from love she duly owes her husband,
As daughter of her folk from holy bond,
As Queen, from both, would have no choice but say:—
“What happened was the thing I dare not blame.”
[He clasps Mariamne’s hand.
And if a Ruth be slow to catch my drift
(How could she learn it at the gleaning hour?)
The Maccabean daughter understands!
In Jericho you could not give your kisses,