Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BURNING OF THE LAW, by MEIR BEN BARUCH OF ROTHENBERG Poet's Biography First Line: Ask, is it well, o thou consumed of fire Last Line: Thy darkness bright. Subject(s): Jews; Judgments; Judaism | ||||||||
ASK, is it well, O thou consumed of fire, With those that mourn for thee, That yearn to tread thy courts, that sore desire Thy sanctuary; That, panting for thy land's sweet dust, are grieved, And sorrow in their souls, And by the flames of wasting fire bereaved, Mourn for thy scrolls; That grope in shadow of unbroken night, Waiting the day to see Which o'er them yet shall cast a radiance bright, And over thee? Ask of the welfare of the man of woe, With breaking heart, in vain Lamenting ever for thine overthrow, And for thy pain; Of him that crieth as the jackals cry, As owls their moaning make, Proclaiming bitter wailing far and nigh; Yea, for Thy sake. And thou revealed amid a heavenly fire, By earthly fire consumed, Say how the foe unscorched escaped the pyre Thy flames illumed! How long shalt thou that art at ease abide In peace, unknown to woe, While o'er my flowers, humbled from their pride, Thy nettles grow? Thou sittest high exalted, lofty foe! To judge the sons of God; And with thy judgments stern dost bring them low Beneath thy rod. Yea, more, to burn the Law thou durst decree God's word to banish hence; Then blest be he who shall award to thee Thy recompense! Was it for this, thou Law, my Rock of old Gave thee with flames begirt, That in thine after-days should fire seize hold Upon thy skirt? O Sinai! was it then for this God chose Thy mount of modest height, Rejecting statelier, while on thee arose His glorious light? Wast thou an omen that from noble state The Law should lowly be? And lo! a parable will I relate Befitting thee. 'Tis of a king I tell, who sat before The banquet of his son And wept: for 'mid the mirth he death foresaw; So thou hast done. Cast off thy robe; in sackcloth folds of night, O Sinai! cover thee; Don widow's garb, discard thy raiment bright Of royalty. Lo, I will weep for thee until my tears Swell as a stream and flow Unto the graves where Thy two princely seers Sleep calm below: Moses and Aaron in the Mountain Hor; I will of them inquire: Is there another to replace this Law Devoured of fire? O thou third month most sacred! woe is me For treason of the fourth, Which dimmed the sacred light that shone from thee And kindled wrath; And break the tablets, yea, and still did rage: And lo! the Law is burnt! Ye sinful! is not this the twofold wage Which ye have earnt? Dismal hath seized upon my soul; how, then, Can food be sweet to me, When, O thou Law, I have beheld base men Destroying thee? They cast thee out as one despised, and burn The wealth of God Most High; They whom from thine assembly thou wouldst spurn From drawing nigh. I cannot pass along the highway more, Nor seek thy ways forlorn; How do thy paths their loneliness deplore! Lo! how they mourn! The mingled cup shall taste as honey sweet Where tears o'erbrim the wine; Yea, and thy chain upon my shackled feet Are joy divine. Sweet would it be unto mine eyes alway A rain of tears to pour, To sob and drench thy sacred robes, till they Could hold no more. But lo! my tears are dried, when, fast outpoured, They down my cheeks are shed; Scorched by the fire within: because thy Lord Hath turned and fled. Taking His holy treasure, He hath made His journey far away; And with Him hath not thy protecting shade Vanished for aye? And I am desolate and sore bereft, Lo! a forsaken one: Like a sole beacon on a mountain left, A tower alone. I hear the voice of singers now no more, Silence their song hath bound; The strings are broken which on harps of yore Breathed forth sweet sound. In sackcloth I will clothe and sable band, For well-beloved by me Were they whose lives were many as the sand The slain of thee. I am astonished that the day's fair light Yet shineth brilliantly On all things:it is ever dark as night To me and thee. Send with a bitter cry to God above Thine anguish, nor withhold: Ah! that He would remember yet His love, His troth of old! Gird on the sackcloth of thy misery For that devouring fire, Which burst forth ravenous on thine and thee With wasting dire. E'en as thy Rock hath sore afflicted thee, He will assuage thy woe, Will turn again the tribes' captivity, And raise the low. Yet shalt thou wear thy scarlet raiment choice, And sound the timbrels high, And yet amid the dancers shalt rejoice With gladdened cry. My heart shall be uplifted on the day The Rock shall be thy light, When He shall make thy gloom to pass away, Thy darkness bright. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RABBI'S SON-IN-LAW by SABINE BARING-GOULD A LITTLE HISTORY by DAVID LEHMAN FOR I WILL CONSIDER YOUR DOG MOLLY by DAVID LEHMAN JEWISH GRAVEYARDS, ITALY by PHILIP LEVINE NATIONAL THOUGHTS by YEHUDA AMICHAI SOUNDS OF THE RESURRECTED DEAD MAN'S FOOTSTEPS (#3): 2. ANGEL ... by MARVIN BELL |
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