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Van Dyke, Henry, 1852-1933

"The Poems of Henry Van Dyke"

She parts them and
comes out, pushing back her long, dark hair from
her temples.]
RUAHMAH:
What have I heard? O God, what shame is this
Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars!
Was it for this that I was brought away
A captive from the hills of Israel
To serve the heathen in a land of lies?
Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife
Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt!
The very greatness of his generous heart
Betrays him to their hands. What can I do!
Nothing,--a slave,--hated and mocked by all
My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life!
I smother in this black, betraying air
Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath
The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God
Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel.
To Israel!
[Music and laughter heard within the palace. The
doors fly open and a flood of men and women,
dancers, players, flushed with wine, dishevelled,
pour down the steps, KHAMMA and NUBTA with them.
They crown the image with roses and dance around
it. RUAHMAH is discovered crouching beside the
arbour.


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