“Adonai, come! with crashing rote of chariots come; or moonlight-mild, alone, afloat, Messussah, come; with floods of lutes, or thundering throat, but come! O, come! Messussah come.”
“The Arctics hawk-up their haunted heart, and raucous, spue; and north-winds, wawling calls, outstart, to droop anew; the clouds like scouts updart, depart, and truceless do, and droop anew.”
“How long! They breeds have waited fain what sibyls ween; Thou scribbled'st in their secret brain 'I scheme; I mean'; the constellations stray and strain: Break out! be seen what sibyls ween”.
“The pampas stamp and, nomad, low, reposeless, lone; raging the generations trow, and drudge, and drown; a anguished glance this latter woe throws to Thy Throne, reposeless, lone”...
Before them, above them, as they sang stood—a man.
Hard by a wall of that Moslem mosque, once a chapel which marked the supposed spot of “the Ascension”, he stood, in an attitude of suspense, astonishment, his body half-twisted—Spinoza.
An instant, and he was aware of Jerusalem lying “as a city that is compact” before him—not to the east—to the west! Yet another instant, and he realized that the whole tract of humanity—man, woman, child—was on its face before him.
A faintness overcame him, shame, dismay; then, his blood now rushing to his brow, his mouth sent out the passionate shout:
“Not to me! Not to me! I am the Lord of the Sea....!”
But when the people heard this, saw him, knew him, they remained in adoration....