Part 17

I view the land both near and far, To me it seems a prison vast. Throughout its breadth, where'er I look, My eyes are met by doors locked fast.

And though the world stood open wide, Though angel hosts filled ev'ry space, To me 'twere destitute of charm Didst thou withdraw thy face."

Here is another:

"Perchance in days to come, When men and all things change, They'll marvel at my love, And call it passing strange.

Without I seem most calm, But fires rage within-- 'Gainst me, as none before, Thou didst a grievous sin.

What! tell the world my woe! That were exceeding vain. With mocking smile they'd say, 'You know, he is not sane!'"

When his lady-love died, he composed the following elegy:

"In pain she bore the son who her embrace Would never know. Relentless death spread straight His nets for her, and she, scarce animate, Unto her husband signed: I ask this grace, My friend, let not harsh death our love efface; To our babes, its pledges, dedicate Thy faithful care; for vainly they await A mother's smile each childish fear to chase. And to my uncle, prithee, write. Deep pain I brought his heart. Consumed by love's regret He roved, a stranger in his home. I fain Would have him shed a tear, nor love forget. He seeketh consolation's cup, but first His soul with bitterness must quench its thirst."

Moses ibn Ezra's cup of consolation on not a few occasions seems to have been filled to overflowing with wine. In no other way can the joyousness of his drinking-songs be accounted for. The following are characteristic:

"Wine cooleth man in summer's heat, And warmeth him in winter's sleet. My buckler 'tis 'gainst chilling frost, My shield when rays of sun exhaust."

"If men will probe their inmost heart, They must condemn their crafty art: For silver pieces they make bold To ask a drink of liquid gold."

To his mistress, naturally, many a stanza of witty praise and coaxing imagery was devoted:

"My love is like a myrtle tree, When at the dance her hair falls down. Her eyes deal death most pitiless, Yet who would dare on her to frown?"

"Said I to sweetheart: 'Why dost thou resent The homage to thy grace by old men paid?' She answered me with question pertinent: 'Dost thou prefer a widow to a maid?'"

To his love-poems and drinking-songs must be added his poems of friendship, on true friends, life's crowning gift, and false friends, basest of creatures. He has justly been described as the most subjective of neo-Hebraic poets. His blithe delight in love, exhaling from his poems, transfigured his ready humor, which instinctively pierced to the ludicrous element in every object and occurrence: age dyeing its hair, traitorous friendship, the pride of wealth, or separation of lovers.

Yet in the history of synagogue literature this poet goes by the name Ha-Sallach, "penitential poet," on account of his many religious songs, bewailing in elegiac measure the hollowness of life, and the vanity of earthly possessions, and in ardent words advocating humility, repentance, and a contrite heart. The peculiarity of Jewish humor is that it returns to its tragic source.

No mediæval poet so markedly illustrates this characteristic as the prince of neo-Hebraic poetry, Yehuda Halevi, in whose poems the principle of Jewish national poesy attained its completest expression. They are the idealized reflex of the soul of the Jewish people, its poetic emotions, its "making for righteousness," its patriotic love of race, its capacity for martyrdom. Whatever true and beautiful element had developed in Jewish soul life, since the day when Judah's song first rang out in Zion's accents on Spanish soil, greets us in its noblest garb in his poetry. A modern poet says of him:

"Ay, he was a master singer, Brilliant pole star of his age, Light and beacon to his people! Wondrous mighty was his singing--

Verily a fiery pillar Moving on 'fore Israel's legions, Restless caravan of sorrow, Through the exile's desert plain."

In his early youth the muse of poetry had imprinted a kiss upon Halevi's brow, and the gracious echo of that kiss trembles through all the poet's numbers. Love, too, seems early to have taken up an abode in his susceptible heart, but, as expressed in the poems of his youth, it is not sensuous, earthly love, nor Gabirol's despondency and unselfish grief, nor even the sentiment of Moses ibn Ezra's artistically conceived and technically perfect love-plaint. It is tender, yet passionate, frankly extolling the happiness of requited love, and as naively miserable over separation from his mistress, whom he calls Ophra (fawn). One of his sweetest songs he puts upon her lips:

"Into my eyes he loving looked, My arms about his neck were twined, And in the mirror of my eyes, What but his image did he find?

Upon my dark-hued eyes he pressed His lips with breath of passion rare. The rogue! 'Twas not my eyes he kissed; He kissed his picture mirrored there."

Ophra's "Song of Joy" reminds one of the passion of the "Song of Songs":

"He cometh, O bliss! Fly swiftly, ye winds, Ye odorous breezes, And tell him how long I've waited for this!

O happy that night, When sunk on thy breast, Thy kisses fast falling, And drunken with love, My troth I did plight.

Again my sweet friend Embraceth me close. Yes, heaven doth bless us, And now thou hast won My love without end."

His mistress' charms he describes with attractive grace:

"My sweetheart's dainty lips are red, With ruby's crimson overspread; Her teeth are like a string of pearls; Adown her neck her clust'ring curls In ebon hue vie with the night; And o'er her features dances light.