Calmly flow’d the Rabbi’s life-blood,
Calmly to its termination
Sang he his sweet song,—his dying
Sigh was still—Jerusalem!
It is said in olden legend
That the Saracen was really
Not a wicked cruel mortal,
But an angel in disguise,
Sent from the bright realms of heaven
To remove God’s favourite
From the earth, and to advance him
Painlessly to those blest regions.
There, ’tis said, there waited for him
A reception highly flatt’ring
In its nature to the poet,
Quite a heavenly surprise.
Solemnly with strains of music
Came the’ angelic choir to meet him,
And instead of hymns, he heard them
Singing his own lovely verses,
Synagoguish Wedding-Carmen,
Hymeneal Sabbath numbers,
With their well-known and exulting
Melodies—what notes enthralling!
While some angels play’d the hautboy,
Others play’d upon the fiddle;
Others handled the bass-viol,
Others beat the drum and cymbal.
Sweetly all the music sounded.
Sweetly through the far-extending
Vaults of heaven these strains re-echoed
Lecho Daudi Likras Kalle!
4.
My good wife is not contented
With the chapter just concluded,
And especially the portion
Speaking of Darius’ casket.