| Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917. | | | | Only a Jew | | Anonymous |
| | | IN the land of Brittany, and long ago, | |
| Lived one of those | |
| Despised and desolate, whose records show | |
| Insults and blows, | |
| Their old inheritance of wrong, who were | 5 |
| Free once as the eyelids of the morn; nor care | |
| Knew, nor annoy, | |
| In that city of joy, | |
| Heaven-chosen child, whom none to harm might dare; | |
| |
| Lived one who did as if his God stood near | 10 |
| Watching his deed, | |
| Slow to give answer, ever swift to hear; | |
| Whose brain would breed, | |
| Walking alone or watching through the night, | |
| No idle thought; but he with ill would fight | 15 |
| And day by day | |
| Would wax alway | |
| Wiser and better and nearer to the light. | |
| |
| And in this land a mother lost her child, | |
| And charged the Jew | 20 |
| With crucifying him, who calmly smiled | |
| Denial. “You | |
| Have slain,” quoth she, “to keep your Passover | |
| My son with sorceries.” He answered her, | |
| “Your wit must fail; | 25 |
| An idle tale | |
| Is this; what proof thereof can you prefer?” | |
| |
| But she went from him raging. Then he fled | |
| Out of that land; | |
| And those there set a price on his gray head, | 30 |
| Who with skilled hand | |
| Of craft had fed one daughter fair as day, | |
| Now destitute. Soon gold before her lay | |
| The bait of shame; | |
| But she, aflame | 35 |
| With honor, flung such happiness away. | |
| |
| And writing, told her father, who came back | |
| By night, and bade | |
| Her claim his life’s reward. “Rather the rack | |
| Rend me,” she said; | 40 |
| “And shall I give him death who life gave me? | |
| Sell him and feed on him? Far sooner we | |
| Both died! Somewhere | |
| Beyond earth’s care | |
| Hereafter we shall meet it well may be | 45 |
| |
| Somewhere hereafter.” “Nay, you still shall live,” | |
| He murmured; then, | |
| Went out into the market, crying, “Give | |
| This price, ye men, | |
| For me to her, my daughter.” But these laid | 50 |
| False hands on both, nor other duty paid | |
| Than death; for they, | |
| Gold hair and gray, | |
| Were slain hard by in the holy minster’s shade. | |
| |
| After, in no long time, the little child | 55 |
| Returned, a stray | |
| Fresh from the sea: it by a ship beguiled, | |
| In the hold at play, | |
| Had sailed unseen till the land a small speck grew, | |
| But still the people prayed in the porch, in view | 60 |
| Of the blood-splashed stone, | |
| And made no moan; | |
| “’Twas only a Jew,” the folk said, “only a Jew!” | | | | |
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