ares war against the Jews of the
Empire."--_Times._]

"BEWARE!" 'Tis a voice from the shades,
from the dark of three thousand long years,
But it falls like the red blade of RA, and
should echo in Tyranny's ears
With the terror of overhead thunder; from
Nile to the Neva it thrills,
And it speaks of the judgment of wrong, of
the doom of imperious wills.
When PENTAOUR sang of the PHARAOH, alone
by Orontes, at bay,
By the chariots compassed about of the foe
who were fierce for the fray,
He sang of the dauntless oppressor, of RAMESES,
conquering king;
But were there such voice by the Neva to-day,
of what now should he sing?
Of tyranny born out of time, of oppression
belated and vain?
Put up the old weapon, O despot, slack hand
from the scourge and the chain;
For the days of the PHARAOHS are done, and
the laureates of tyranny mute,
And the whistle of falchion and flail are not
set to the chords of the lute.
True, the Hebrew, who bowed to the lash of
the Pyramid-builders, bows still,
For a time, to the knout of the TSAR, to the
Muscovite's merciless will;
But four millions of Israel's children are not
to be crushed in the path
Of a TSAR, like the Hittites of old, when great
RAMESES flamed in his wrath
Alone through their numberless hosts. No,
the days of the Titans of Wrong
Are past, for the Truth is a torch, and the
voice of the peoples is strong.
Even PENTAOUR, the poet of Might, spake in
pity that rings down the years
Of the life of "the peasant that tills" of his
terrible toil and his tears;
Of the rats and the locusts that ravaged, and,
worse, the tax-gathering horde
Who tithed all his pitiful tilth with the aid
of the stick and the cord;
And the splendour of RAMESES pales in the
text of the old Coptic Muse,
And--one hears the mad rush of the wheels
that the fierce Red Sea billow pursues!

O Muscovite, blind in your wrath, with
your heel on the Israelite's neck,
And your hand on that baleful old blade,
Persecution, 'twere wisdom to reck
The PHARAOH'S calm warning. Beware!
Lo, the Pyramids pierce the grey gloom
Of a desert that is but a waste, by a river
that is but a tomb,
Yet the Hebrew abides and is strong.
AMENEMAN is gone to the ghosts,
He the prince of the Coptic police who so
harried the Israelite hosts
When their lives with hard-bondage were
bitter. And now bitt