MAKE friends with him! He is of royal line, Although he sits in rags. Not all of thine Array of splendor, pomp of high estate, Can buy him from his place within the gate, The King's gate of thy happiness, where he, Yes, even he, the Jew, remaineth free, Never obeisance making, never scorn Betraying of thy silver and new-born Delight. Make friends with him, for unawares The charmed secret of thy joys he bears; Be glad, so long as his black sackcloth, late And early, thwarts thy sun; for if in hate Thou plottest for his blood, thy own death cry, Not his, comes from the gallows cubits high. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES IV, 7. TO TORQUATUS. DIFFUGERE NIVES by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS THERE WAS A BOY (VERSION 1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG TRAVELLING GIPSIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE PROTEUS by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE PARTING OF LAUNCELOT AND GUENEVERE; A FRAGMENT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON MY CHASTE MISTRESS by GOTTFRIED AUGUST BURGER ON THESE LABOURED POEMS OF THE DECEASED AUTHOR, MR. WILLIAM BOSWORTH by L. C. |