The sons of Jacob still in exile groan

Beneath a tyrant's yoke. I hear the wail

Of Rachel weeping for her children still;

I hear my lover playing on his flute,

Who waits the coming of a faithless bride!

But Mordecai has stayed the hand of Death!

Vashti

And you did eat your heart to save your blood?

Esther

You comprehend at last? Your sympathy,

O Vashti, I must have, if not respect,

Else can I not return unto the king.      [Vashti weeps.]

[Vashti weeps.]

There, there, I thank you, sister, friend, proud queen!

The tears that glitter on your cheeks are worth

A diadem of sparkling Indian stones.

But weep no more—your hand—for Esther's heart

Can now endure, since Vashti understands!

The stars are twinkling in the northern skies;

They shimmer on the stream beyond the hills;

 Prev. P 69/158 next