MOSES

The background of Franko's masterpiece is the experience of Franko himself and his relations with his own people as their spiritual leader after almost forty years of hard work on their behalf. In expounding his theme it is very easy to understand why Franko adopted the Biblical figure of the great prophet-leader Moses to portray his own life-long struggle for his people's uplift and progress. In structure the poem falls into three parts. In the first part we see the camp of the Hebrews in Moab near the borders of the Promised Land. The people, having been led by Moses out of their former dwelling places and finding themselves in the wilderness, have lost all hope in the promises of a better future. In this state of mind the people give ear to two rebels, Dathan and Abiram, and go so far as to proclaim publicly that any one who gives himself out to be a prophet and to speak in the name of Jehovah, shall be spat upon and stoned. Moses boldly meets the crisis and warns the people. When it comes to a final crisis and the people are ready to stone the prophet, not a hand is raised against him, for the people are intimidated by the prophet's manifest authority. The second part shows Moses, unwilling any longer to be the messenger of doom to a people who shut their ears to a divine call, preparing to leave them and go to the Promised Land alone. But before leaving he addresses parting words of instruction to the children who have always flocked around him and listened to him. The allusions are clear, for in Franko's experience it was the older generation who set themselves against him, while it was among the youth that he found the supporters and followers of his ideas. In the third part, which is given here in translation, Moses is alone on Mount Nebo. Here in solitude he is assailed by doubts as to his own motives in seeking to be a leader, then as to the reality of the divine call he received. These doubts and questionings are symbolized by the "dark demon of the wilderness." Moses becomes more and more uncertain and discouraged, so much so, that he finally loses faith in Jehovah. While the evil spirit is mocking and provoking him, he curses Jehovah. This act of despair excludes him from entering the Promised Land. Later on, however, the leaders of the opposition to Moses are crushed and under Joshua the people rise up and press on to the destined goal, that is: the followers of Franko will carry on in the direction pointed out by the teacher. Though Moses has been excluded from the Land of Promise for a moment of unbelief, yet his work has not been in vain. Such is the substance of this poem, which contains a sort of concealed autobiography of Franko and adumbrations of certain of his contemporaries in the pictures he draws of Moses, Dathan and Abiram and the Hebrew masses.

MOSES

 

XII

"Enveloped here in solitude,

    Like vessel on a boundless sea,
My soul, the sail that drives my bark,
    Feels all its power filling me.

"For years long past, through all my life,

    I've known full well this tutoress,
For in the desert, 'midst the throng,
    I've always walked in loneliness.

"Like wandering planet still I fly1

    In this unfathomable whole,
And still but one thing do I feel—
    The touch of God's hand on my soul.

"Deep silence reigns, man's lips are mute,

    And sealed is every human word;
Thou only, deep within my heart,
    Hast words to speak to me, O Lord!

" Tis Thee alone my soul doth seek;

    On Thee alone my heart can count. . . .
Oh, let me hear Thy voice once more
    As Thou didst speak on Horeb's mount!

"Lo, I have finished all the course

    Which once I heard by Thee rehearsed,
And now I come to Thee as when
    I stood before Thee at the first.

"For forty years I've labored, taught,

    With all my mind upon Thee bent,
Out of these slaves to make a folk
    According to Thy prime intent.

"For forty years, like smith, I've beat

    Upon their hearts and consciences,
To come to this, that now I flee
    From flying stones and menaces.

"And now, the very moment when

    We stand before the Promised Land . . .
Omniscient One, didst Thou foreknow
    This end? Hast Thou it thus so planned

"To load my heart with bitter grief?

    Perhaps, I've cherished guilty doubt?
Perhaps 'tis some commandment, Lord,
    That I've not fully carried out?

"O Lord my God! I've prayed with tears:

    I'm but a babe, helpless, supine;
Let someone else the bearer be
    Of this majestic word of Thine!

"Alas! I feel within my soul

    The sting of doubt, impotency.
Almight One, speak, answer me!
    Art Thou still satisfied with me?"

Thus as he went did Moses pray

    In bitterness, dispirited;
But still the desert silence kept,
    The bright stars calmly shone o'erhead.

XIII

When lo, there came a smothered laugh

    Which sounded in his very ear,
As though someone beside him walked,
    Although no footsteps could he hear.

His ear next caught the quiet words

    Which thrilled him like a serpent's hiss:

"The bud of folly still brings forth
    The fruit of pain and bitterness;

"And when thou findest that thou canst

    No longer bear its fruitage dread,
Go shift thy burden on the Lord
    And let Him bear it in thy stead."

MOSES

"Tis someone speaks! or do I hear

    The voice of my own misery?
Or can it be a demon who
    Is talking, making mock of me?"

VOICE

"Ah now, thou dost begin to doubt

    Thy bold and liberative deed.
For forty years thou wert so sure,—
    Though blindly, yet didst bravely lead."

MOSES

"Tis someone speaks! Why on my brow

    Do pearling drops of sweat now stand ?
Afraid? Oh, no! But through my heart
    There seems to pass a red-hot brand."

VOICE

"In pride unbounded thou hast turned

    Thy people from their proper way,
To make them what thou didst desire—

    Is it not late to feel dismay?"

MOSES

"Who art thou? Though I see thee not,

    Thou shalt not shake my self-control;
But yet I feel a piercing gaze

    That penetrates my very soul."

VOICE

"What matter who I am! To him

    Before whom once the sea withdrew,
It matters not who I may be,
    But whether what I say is true!"

MOSES

"Nay, 'tis not true that I began

    My mission from a sense of pride,
I saw my folk beneath the yoke—
    Twas more than my heart could abide."

VOICE

"Then 'twas because thou wast ashamed

    Of kinship to a slavish race
And didst desire to make them such
    As would thy sense of shame erase."

MOSES

"Yes. From the depths of ignorance,

    Out of the gloom of slavery's night,
I did desire to lift them up
    To where I stood—to truth, to light."

VOICE

"Thou didst no counsel take with God
    Who set them in that station low;
But now, when thou hast missed thy aim,
    Thou callest on Him in thy woe."

MOSES

"Nay! That which me impelled was His

    Divine, all-powerful command.
Twas Horeb's fire in my dark soul
    That gave me light to understand."

VOICE

"Ah, maybe that same Horeb fire

    Ne'er burned on Horeb's mount at all,
But merely in thy stubborn heart
    Thine own desires did loudly call.

"Maybe the voice which led thee on

    This ruinous campaign to plan,
Came not from any burning bush,
    But simply from thy inner man.

"In truth, 'tis passion blinds the eye;

    Desires that magic power possess
To make a world of gods and men —
    Mirages of the wilderness.

"Desires, that like a jackal howled
    In that ambitious soul of thine
Have made thee deem thyself a chief
    And prophet by a call divine."

MOSES

"Alas! Such words make me feel more

    A hundredfold my loneliness!
Who art thou, then?"

VOICE

                                    Azazel I,

Dark demon of the wilderness."  

                  XIV

The darkness fell. In heaven's vault

    The twinkling stars alone gave light
And by their beams did Moses climb
    Still higher up the mountain's height.

No pathway. 'Neath the pall of night

    His only guide was eerie sounds:
Now 'tis the serpent's hiss he hears,
    And now the jackal's howl resounds.

Like hero resolute who goes

    To meet his enemies' onslaught,
So Moses went, while in his soul
    He still a desperate battle fought.

"This yearning," something seemed to say,

    "The fruit of shame and sympathy—
Was that the burning bush which made
    Me strive to set my people free? . . .

"This yearning—did it then create

    All that I thought I saw and heard?
The strength divine, the voice that spoke,
    The Lord Jehovah and His word?

"This yearning—my crushed folk to help,

    To wipe the tears from misery's face—
Was that the sin for which I'm judged
    Worthy of exile, death, disgrace?

"Nay, nay! Do not deceive thyself,

    To try to hide it would be sin!
That yearning was a holy one—
    But might not evil lurk therein ?

"Wast thou not master? Body and soul

    Didst thou not hold them in thy power?
Might not the love of power in thee
    Those one-time pure desires devour?

"A second Pharoah wast thou not

    To them and didst far more transgress?
For thou didst thy control extend
    Unto their souls and consciences. . . .

" 'Tis dangerous to take a stand

    Against the course of nature's law.
'Tis easy in God's name to speak

    And thus to hold the folk in awe.

"Suppose that thou these forty years

    Hast lived within a frenzy's ban,
And that, instead of God's commands,
    Hast preached thine own shortsighted plan?

"Who knows, perhaps in Egypt they

    Might have increased despite their bands?
They might have grown in strength until

    The whole land fell into their hands?

"To lead them to a wilderness

    From homes where they had lived so long—
Didst thou not think at any time
    That this might be a grievous wrong?

"What boots it to a landless folk

    To promise freedom as a gift?
Is it not to uproot an oak
    And cast it on a stream to drift?

"And did not Dathan speak the truth:

    'We've left behind our former nest,
And now to build a new one here

    We find we've neither strength nor zest' ?

"O Lord my God, speak, answer me!

    Did I Thy holy will fulfill,
Or have I but the plaything been
    Of my own blindness and selfwill ?

"Oh, answer, Lord! Dost Thou endow

    With power to speak the burning word
Only in times when passions rise,
    In dreams, or when our blood is stirred?"

But God kept silence. Nothing more

    Is heard than evil-boding sounds:
Anon it is the serpent's hiss,
    And then the J'ackal's cry resounds.

XV

The sun was rising o'er the plain,

    A fiery, crimson ball of light;
Its beams like arrows darting forth
    Began to cleave and split the night.

Like king in purple robes arrayed,

    Its top with morning's brilliance crowned,
The mighty mass of Nebo's mount
    Rose high above the peaks around.

But on the highest pinnacle,

    Beyond the rocky slopes, behold!
A figure motionless, like one
    Of that Titanic race of old.

There far above all sounds from earth,

    Its restless clamor, its outcries,
He stands, and stretching forth his hands,
    He lifts them upward towards the skies.

Illuminated by the sun

    While standing yi its crimson glow,
His long colossal shadow falls
    Far out upon the plain below.

Then soon from out the Hebrews' tents

    The people rush and every eye
Stares at the Titan whom they see
    Outlined against the glowing sky.

" 'Tis Moses!," they all cry aloud

    In tones of awestruck fearfulness,
Yet none dares speak the thought which makes

    Him quake with apprehensiveness.

'Tis Moses, lost in fervent prayer,

    Who stands there talking to his Lord,
And with his prayer he stabs at heaven
    As though it were a flaming sword.

Although his lips are tightly clenched,

    Although no uttered sound is heard,
His heart is eloquent with pleas,
    He cries to God, yet speaks no word.

Still higher rides the sun and soon
    It sets the firmament ablaze,
Yet Moses still stands there in prayer,
    Immovable as rock he stays.

The demon of the noontide spreads
    Prostrating heat o'er all the land,
Still Moses standeth there as though
    Supported by an unseen hand,

And then behind Mount Pisgah's heights

    The sun begins to sink amain,
And soon gigantic shadows fall
    Down from the heights out on the plain,

And Moses' lengthening shadow, too,

    Stretched from the mount until it fell
And rested on the Hebrews' tents,
    Like to a father's last farewell.

A thrill of fear ran through the camp:

    "O God, spare us in this dread hour!
For should the prophet curse us now,
    His curse would fall with fearful power!

"With such a potent prayer as this

    He could make earth's foundations quake,
Melt hills like wax, and even cause
    God's own eternal throne to shake.

"And should he now pronounce a curse

    Ere sunset, then the coming night
Would swallow us—both man and beast
    Would disappear ere morning light."

XVI

But Moses struggled, wrestled, fought

    In vain against the spell of doubt,
And when night swallowed up the mount,
    He fell to earth undone, worn out.

A tremor ran through all the mount,

    When he fell down upon its crest;
He lay unconscious like a babe
    Who rests upon its mother's breast.

And then in melancholy tones

    A tender lullaby was heard,
And what seemed like a soft white hand
    In light caress o'er his form stirred.

And with this came the quiet words:

    "My son, my poor unhappy son!
Behold what life to thee in such
    A scanty space of time has done!

" Tis surely not long since that I

    Cared for thee in thy helplessness?
Was it for this I gave thee birth
    To suffer all these cruelties?

"How many furrows seam thy brow!

    What frailty doth thy body show!
The raven hair I once caressed
    Is now become as white as snow!

"Once thou didst leave me in thy pride

    And for the combat didst depart.
Behold what thou hast gained! And say,

    How many wounds are in thy heart?

"Poor child, since that day with how much

    Of woe hast thou had to contend!
And e'en today thou hast endured
    The burning sun—and to what end?

"Thy people's future and its past,

    By prayer thou seekest to divine!
By fervent and believing prayer—
    O senseless,  son of mine!

"Behold! I take a stone which then

    Far down in the abyss I cast;
From ledge to ledge it skips and cracks,
    Until it disappears at last.

"One chip flies here, another there,

    And all their several ways they go;
Yet who can tell where all these chips
    Shall find a resting place below?

"I tell thee, 'tis unknown to God,

    And though thou pray in agony,
'Twill naught avail—each chip is bound
    To follow its own destiny.

"In each chip lies its own self-rule,

    In each one dwells intact the force
Which made the chip just what it is
    And has determined its whole course;

"And great though thy Jehovah be,

    He hath himself no power or might
To change the course of any chip
    Or stay it in its destined flight.

"Behold the speck of dust so small

    Thine eye can scarcely it discern,
Yet thy Jehovah cannot make
    It back to nothingness return,

"And neither hath he power to stay

    Or turn it from that course aside
On which for aye 'tis driven by
    The inner force which is its guide.

"What shall we say then of a folk,

    A many-souled, compounded force,
Where to the movement of the mass
    Each soul contributes its own course?

"Hast thou not heard the song that's sung

    About Orion, giant blind,
Who, to regain his sight, once sought
    The way unto the sun to find ?

"He chose a lad to be his guide

    And made him on his shoulders climb;
The lad was mischievous and so
    He changed direction all the time.

"Lead me unto the sun!' The boy

    First faced him west at break of day,
Then turned him north about high noon,
    And thus the giant led astray.

"Orion still kept on and on,

    Still full of faith he'd find the light,
Still full of longing for the sun
    Which soon must break upon his sight.

"So, over mountains, over seas,

    The blind man strides with giant's vim,
Unknowing that the lad he bears
    Upon his neck makes mock of him.

"Orion is this human race,

    So full of faith and strong desires,
Which hastens on in toil and pain
    And to an unseen goal aspires.

"The unattainable it loves,

    Believes in what it cannot see,
To reach fantastic goals it dooms
    Its blood and kin to misery.

"It plans great things beyond its strength,

    It vainly dreams of mighty acts—
The lad makes mock of it, for he
    Stands for the logic of the facts.

" Tis like that mythical blind man

    Who puts faith in a stranger's eyes,
And ne'er attains at what he aims,
    But wanders in a maze of lies.

"Poor child! Where is thy strength of mind?

    Thy wisdom, that thou still dost pray?
As well make prayers unto the froth
    Upon a stream to make it stay!"

XVII

The words at first seemed to exhale

    Refreshing cool like waters dear;
A spirit seemed to breathe therein
    Of comfort, kindness, and good cheer.

But slowly they brought heaviness,

    As coming storms make themselves known,
A terror such as child might feel
    In fearful darkness, all alone.

Then Moses started from the ground,
    And with a supreme effort said:
"Why dost thou keep tormenting me,
    Since I am now as good as dead?

"Thou art no mother! In thy speech

    No trace of mother-love I hear.
No mother, but Azazel thou,
    The darkling demon of despair!

"Begone! By God's great fourfold name

    I thee adjure, depart from me!
I trust thee not! Thou speakest lies,
    Howe'er thou mayst immortal be."

The voice in quiet tones replied:

    "O foolish child! O senseless heart!
Thou cursest me by Him of whose
    Great power I am myself a part.

"What care I for thy piteous curse!

    Didst thou but share a thousandth part
Of all the mysteries I know,
    Despair would break thy stubborn heart.

"Thou cursest when thy blindness feels

    A ray from that pure light sublime
In which I dwell with Him, beyond
    All boundaries of space and time.

"Lo, thou shalt have a glimpse of things

    Thy narrow wit ne'er grasped before.
Behold the land which He once pledged
    To Abraham, thy ancestor!"

Straightway the west was bathed in fire,

    And from the peak where Moses stands,
All Palestine before him lies,
    A picture made by giant hands.

And then the unseen presence said

    To him in accents calm and low:
"That is the Dead Sea thou dost see,
    Which, like a mirror, lies below.

"And on that side the lofty peaks

    Whose pinnacles thou canst not count,
Which crowd together toward the skies—
    That is the mass of Carmel's mount.

"And to the north is Zion's hill,

    Where Jebusites a home have found,
And shouldst thou cry aloud from here,
   

The Amorites could hear the sound.

    "That silver streak is Jordan's stream

Which in the Dead Sea disappears;
    Close by its mouth is Jericho,

Which preys on hapless travellers.

    "A single valley cuts the land;

On this side are the Ammonites
    Who crowd down to the river's banks;

On that side dwell the Canaanites.

    "There to the west are mountain peaks

With many a broad and fertile plain;.
    A little lake lies to the north,

And then the mountains rise again.

    "There is the whole of Palestine,

A land of barley and of sheep;
    From Kadesh unto Carmel thou

Couldst all of it in one hand heap.

    "No broad highways are there, nor e'en

An outlet to the sea—then why
    Dost thou dream that a nation there

Could live, and thrive, and multiply?"

    But Moses sullenly replied:

"He, at whose word the waters broke
    Forth from the rock, can turn this land

Into an Eden for His folk."

XVIII

Once more the smothered laugh was heard:

    "Faith shall move mountains! Yet, now see
Another set of pictured scenes:
    A foreview of what is to be!

"See how thy people moves ahead,

    The Jordan crosses, then invades
The land and captures Jericho!
    See through what streams of blood it wades!

"Behold them fight for centuries

    To hold this scrap of Palestine;
They battle with the Ammonite,

    The Hittite, and the Philistine.

"Now see the Hebrew monarchy!

    Behold its cost in blood and tears,
Yet means no more than any fly
    Which buzzes round a bullock's ears.

"It never shall reach fullest bloom,

    But lose its petals one by one,
And piecemeal to its neighbors fall
    Before its downward course is run.

"Behold the black doud rising there,
    The sign of fierce Assyria,
Which brings to Israel new slavery
    And death by way of Syria.

"Behold that awful battlefield

    All strewn with corpses of the slain—
That is the work of Babylon
    Which puts an end to Judah's reign.

"Behold Jehovah's temple burn!

    That moving mass, as thick as flies,
Are captives, led away as slaves
    To labor or to sacrifice

"Dost hear that weeping? It is he

    Who gave wise counsel not to strive
Against the foe, but rather yield
    In time in order to survive.

"The stench of ruin! Yet, behold!

    Like sun rays straggling through the wrack,
Of all the swarming thousands who
    Once went, a few are coming back.

"A little group bestirs itself

    Around the walls on Zion's hill;
Another folk, with other god
    And shrine, strive hard the gap to fill.

"It fights and grows in poverty,

    It roots itself into the ground,
As prickly thorn can cling and thrive

    Where'er its shoots a place have found.

"And o'er that people's head there pass
    The tempests of world history,
And kingdoms, empires rise and fall
    Like phantoms born of mystery,

"But they cling to their scrap of earth

    With stubbornness invincible,
And cherish for all other stocks

    A hatred stern, implacable.

"Such hatred for another's god

    Is worse than any other hate;
See how with them it waxes strong
    And fierce e'en in their temple's gate.

"Now see how hate produces hate!

    For, at a tyrant's fierce command,
Come marching armies to uproot

    Thy people once more from their land.

"Dost hear the thud of iron feet?

    The legions dread who onward press
To devastate Judea's fields
    And turn it to a wilderness ?

"Dost hear the clash ? It comes from swords

    That ring and drip with Jewish blood.
Dost hear that cry? 'Tis Jewish maids,
    Dragged by wild horses through the mud.

"Lo, there a starving mother tears

    And eats the fruit of her own womb!
There on the crosses thousands hang,

    The choicest of thy nation's bloom!

"Once more Jehovah's temple burns,

    But for the last time. Nevermore
Shall it arise, for what that hand
    Doth smash, none other shall restore.

"Again survivors, like a stream,

    Are swept into captivity,
But none return, for now their land
    Is lost for all eternity.

"Extinguished now is Israel's star,
    And never shall it see rebirth;
Naught but the hate born in the shrine
    Is left to wander o'er the earth.

"Dost thou doubt this? Canst thou believe?

    Thou still hast faith? I understand!
Yet here's the Eden that awaits
    Thy people in the Promised Land!

"This is that for which thou hast toiled!

    Is it worth while? I ask thee: tell
Me if thou still wilt pray to God
    To let thy folk go there to dwell?"

Then Moses' head sank on his breast.

    "Ah, woe is me! What misery!
Must then my people ne'er be free,

    But always live in slavery?"

He fell face downward on the ground;

    "Jehovah hath deluded us!"
Demonic laughter followed on
    His words—an echo ominous.

XIX

The thunders pealed. The shock was felt

    Down in the strongest mountain's frame.
Peal followed peal, like heralds sent
    Jehovah's coming to proclaim.

A black and threatening cloud arose,

    A wall that blotted out the skies,
'Twas as though Mother Night in wrath
    Had veiled her face all but her eyes.

And in the gloom those eyes flared out

    From time to time in fiery flame
With loud outburst, as mother might
    An erring, wayward daughter blame.

Awe-stricken Moses listened to

    The dialogue 'twixt gloom and flash,
Yet still his heart could not discern
    Jehovah's voice in bolt and crash.

A louder crash burst overhead

    That drowned the other thunders' noise,
His hair rose up, his heart stood still . . .
    But this was not Jehovah's voice.

Along the cliffs the wild wind howled

    In vicious tones that brought a chill
Into the soul and forced a groan .

   But yet Jehovah's voice was still.

And mingled rain and hail poured down,

    And with it came a gripping frost,
So fierce that in his helplessness
    A man might yield himself as lost.

Then followed calm. The waters sobbed

    As though in pity for the storm;
A tender breeze sprang up and blew
    With perfumes laden, sweet and warm.

The breeze was vocal. Moses felt

    That something in his heart was stirred.
He knew that strange, mysterious speech;
    At last Jehovah's voice was heard.

" 'Jehovah hath deluded us.'

    Since when with thee did I contract
About thy people? When didst thou
    An earnest take to seal the pact?

"Hast seen my plans? Hast ever read
    The pages of my judgment book?
Hast seen my ends or know'st that I
    At any time my aims forsook?

"O thou of little faith! Ere thou

    Didst stir within thy mother's womb,
I numbered every hair and marked
    Thy every breath from birth to tomb.

"Ere Abraham went forth from Ur

    To go to Haran, I foreknew
Each one of his posterity
    And what each several one would do.

"This land of yours is small, confined,

    And all its riches no great sum?
Hast thou forgotten that the crib
    Is small from whence the greatest come?

"The hour will come when I shall lead

    You forth to tasks to try your strength,
E'en as a mother weans her child,
    When the due time arrives at length.

"Here on a poor and scanty soil,

    Like thorn which grows and thrives on sand,
Ye shall wax stout and strong so that
    Ye may the coming change withstand.

"Well do I know your temperament,

    Your stubborn, never-sated soul;
On fertile soil, ye'd spread abroad
    And seize and gorge without control.

"With soul and body ye would long
    For every morsel that ye see;
Mammon would take you in his net,
    Like sluggish fishes in the sea.

"In Bgypt 'neath the yoke ye groaned,

    Yet greedily devoured its food;
Eternal loathing shall ye learn

    For what ye once esteemed as good .

"When, having left this newer land,

    And laid in ruins all its fields,
Ye shall be scattered o'er the earth
    To conquer all the wealth it yields.

"Yet will I lay a heavy curse

    On all the treasures that ye gain;
Like serpent on your gold, I'll give
   You grief, and suffering, and pain.

"Whoever gains all earthly wealth

    And finds in it his chiefest joy,
The same its captive doth become,
    For riches can the soul destroy.

"The master and the slave of wealth,

    Bought at the cost of blood and tears—
That man, increasing what he gains,

    Pulls down the structure which he rears.

"Thus, like a leech which sucks the blood,

    And healing yet itself doth die,
So ye, lords of a golden sea,
    Shall find it leave you high and dry.

"And in that golden ocean, ye

    Shall suffer an eternal thirst;
The golden bread shall never feed
    Your souls, but be a thing accursed.

"Yet ye shall be my witnesses

    As far as earth's remotest bound;
Ye shall supply the Bread of Life
    Wherever hungering souls are found.

"He who gives you mere bread to eat,

    Shall with his earthly bread decay,
But he who ministers unto
    Your souls shall live with me alway.

"There shall ye find your Promised Land,

    A boundless realm of wealth and pride;
Yet as a leader to that land
    Thou hast been but a sorry guide.

"There lies your glorious Promised Land,

    Beyond all other lands most blest;
This Palestine is but the pledge
    I give, a token for the rest.

"Let this then, be a memory,

    A dream, desire unsatisfied,
So that by seeking it, my folk
    May as the lords of earth abide.

"But thou, because for one brief space,

    By doubting, hast committed sin,
Thou shalt indeed behold the land,
    But shalt not set a foot therein-

"Thy bones shall moulder in this place,

    A warning sign to strike dismay
In all who strive to reach a goal,
    Yet always perish on the way!"

XX

A fearlessness stalks o'er the hills,

    As clouds across the desert glide,
It gives birth to a host of thoughts
    And longings o'er the countryside.

It strews old leaves and flowers sere

    Which have lain withered many a year;
It stirs old voices in the soul
    Which one deemed nevermore to hear.

That which but yesterday was naught,

    Today is full of loveliness;
What yesterday was trodden down,
    Today seems crowned with sacredness.

All through the Hebrew camping ground
    The night was spent in deadly fear;
When morning came, all rushed to look:
    Is he still on the mountain there ?

No, he is gone! And that word 'gone'

    Struck every heart with mortal chill.
All felt that something had been lost
    And naught its place could ever fill.

That unseen thing which in their midst

    Had always glowed like hidden fire,
Which gave a meaning to their lives,
    Enlightened, and stirred up desire.

Immeasurable sadness fell

    Upon their hardened consciences,
And all the camp lay 'neath the spell
    Of stupified faint-heartedness.

With faces pale and drawn they stare

    At one another without end,
Like murderers, who, in a dream,
    Have killed their dearest, closest friend.

A noise of hoofs! A desert storm?

    Or did he prophesy the truth? . . .
'Tis Joshua, the herdsmen's prince,
    And after him the tribesmen's youth.

They hasten, driving on their herds . . .

    Is this, perchance, a hostile raid?
All blench and fly as driven by
    God's unseen hand upon them laid,

By solitude and nameless fear,

    By spiritual poverty . . .
But Joshua's command rings out:
    "To arms, and fight for liberty!"

Like eagle's shriek, above the crowd,

    Rang out that shrill and piercing cry;
It rolled and echoed from the mount:
    "To arms, and fight for liberty!"

An instant—then all will awake

    And break their stupefaction strange,
Yat none will know how in a flash
    There came o'er them this sudden change.

An instant—then a thousand throats
    Will Joshua's battle-cry repeat,
And from the-sluggish nomads rise
    A race of heroes to their feet.

Their drumming feet will pound the sand

    And make it mud beneath their feet;
Abiram will be stoned to death,
    A noose will Dathan's schemes defeat.

O'er mountains like a bird they'll fly,

    And Jordan's stream be dashed to spray,
The walls of Jericho like ice
    Will melt before the trumpet's bray.

Thus towards an unknown future, they

    Will march with longing and dismay,
To pave a highway for man's soul,
    Yet perish on their onward way.

Lviv, January to July, 1903.