For little he deems that his idolized bride,
The joy of his heart—the delight of his eyes,
Is born of that race whom the Persians deride—
A people, his nation oppress and despise.
There ’s wine at the palace, and feasting, and mirth;
In Esther’s still chamber there ’s fasting, and prayer;
While he with the crown, has the homage of earth,
She calls on her God her doomed people to spare.
She thinks of her fathers in Egypt’s dark land—
She thinks of the bush, as in Horeb it burned;
She knows who the hearts of the kings hath in hand,
To turn them, as rivers of water are turned.
To him, for support, and for light to her mind,
She sends up the cries of her soul from the dust;
Then, rising to go to the king, is resigned
To do this and perish, if perish she must.
* * * *
With fasting and tears she is languid and pale;
But o’er her young face beams the sunrise of soul;
And flesh, though but feeble, and ready to fail,
Is urged to its point by the spirit’s control.
The woman within her is timid and faint;
The holy believer, unawed and serene;
She goes to the presence, adorned as a saint,
With power that has never invested the queen.
* * * *
And now are her people to safety restored—
To peace, and their rights, when resistance had failed:
A woman in weakness, who drew on the Lord
For strength, o’er the mighty of earth hath prevailed.
Fair Jewess, the tears thou hast dropped in the dust,
As pearls, to Jehovah are precious and bright.
The hand, that in sorrow has here been thy trust,
Will crown thee with joy in the kingdom of light.