< Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu
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THE DANCE TO DEATH,

101

Naked waist-upward. Blood is trickling down
Their lacerated flesh. What do they carry ?

SCHNETZEN.

Their scourges -—iron-pointed, leathern thongs,
Mark how they lash themselves - the statet Flagellants.
The Brothers of the Gross -^ hark to their cries !

VOICE FROM BELOW.

Atone, ye mighty ! God is wroth ! Expel
The enemies of heaven -— raze their homes !

[Confused cries from below, which gradually die away in the distance.

Woe to God's enemies I Death to the Jews !
They poison all our wells — they hring the plague.
Kill them who killed our Lord! Their homes shall be
A wilderness — drown them in their own blood !
[The Lakoobaye and Sohnbtzen withdraw from the window,

SCHNETZEN.

Do not the people ask the same as I ?
Is not the people's voice the voice of God ?

LANDGRAVE.

I will consider.

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