Drops paralyzed — both, lifted for the truth ;
We can but front with brave eyes, brow erect,
Aa is our wont, the f uUness of our doom.

Tben Meisaen's sword champions yonr desperate
I take my stand here where my heart ia fixed.
I love your daughter — if her love conaeat,
I pray you, give me her to wife.

Ah!

Let not this Saxon skin, this hdr's gold fleece,
These Rhine-blue eyes mislead thee — she is alien.
To the heart's core a Jewesa — prop of my house.
Soul of my soul — and I ? a despised Jew.

Tby propped house crumbles ; let my arm sustain
Its tottering base — thy light is on the wane,
Let me relume it. Give thy star to me.
Or ever pitch-black night engulf ua all —
Lend me your voice, Liebhaid, entreat for me.
Shall tills prayer be your first that he denies ?