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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Filippo Baldinucci on the Privilege of Burial</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"No, boy, we must not"—so began<br>My Uncle (he's with God long since),<br>A-petting me, the good old man!<br>"We must not"—and he seemed to wince,<br>And lost that laugh whereto had grown<br>His chuckle at my piece of news,<br>How cleverly I aimed my stone—<br>"I fear we must not pelt the Jews!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"When I was young indeed,—ah, faith<br>Was young and strong in Florence too!<br>We Christians never dreamed of scathe<br>Because we cursed or kicked the crew.<br>But now, well, well! The olive-crops<br>Weighed double then, and Arno's pranks<br>Would always spare religious shops<br>Whenever he o'erflowed his banks!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"I'll tell you"—and his eye regained<br>Its twinkle—"tell you something choice!<br>Something may help you keep unstained<br>Your honest zeal to stop the voice<br>Of unbelief with stone-throw, spite<br>Of laws, which modern fools enact,<br>That we must suffer Jews in sight<br>Go wholly unmolested! Fact!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"There was, then, in my youth, and yet<br>Is, by our San Frediano, just<br>Below the Blessed Olivet,<br>A wayside ground wherein they thrust<br>Their dead,—these Jews,—the more our shame!<br>Except that, so they will but die,<br>Christians perchance incur no blame<br>In giving hogs a hoist to stye.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"There, anyhow, Jews stow away<br>Their dead; and,—such their insolence,—<br>Slink at odd times to sing and pray<br>As Christians do—all make-pretence!—<br>Which wickedness they perpetrate<br>Because they think no Christians see.<br>They reckoned here, at any rate,<br>Without their host: ha, ha, he, he!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"For, what should join their plot of ground<br>But a good Farmer's Christian field?<br>The Jews had hedged their corner round<br>With bramble-bush to keep concealed<br>Their doings: for the public road<br>Ran betwixt this their ground and that<br>The Farmer's, where he ploughed and sowed,<br>Grew corn for barn and grapes for vat.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"So, properly to guard his store<br>And gall the unbelievers too, <br>He builds a shrine and, what is more,<br>Procures a painter whom I knew,<br>One Buti (he's with God), to paint<br>A holy picture there—no less<br>Than Virgin Mary free from taint<br>Borne to the sky by angels: yes!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Which shrine he fixed,—who says him nay?—<br>A-facing with its picture-side<br>Not, as you'd think, the public way,<br>But just where sought these hounds to hide<br>Their carrion from that very truth<br>Of Mary's triumph: not a hound<br>Could act his mummeries uncouth<br>But Mary shamed the pack all round!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Now, if it was amusing, judge!<br>—To see the company arrive,<br>Each Jew intent to end his trudge<br>And take his pleasure (though alive)<br>With all his Jewish kith and kin<br>Below ground, have his venom out,<br>Sharpen his wits for next day's sin,<br>Curse Christians, and so home, no doubt!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Whereas, each phyz upturned beholds<br>Mary, I warrant, soaring brave!<br>And in a trice, beneath the folds<br>Of filthy garb which gowns each knave,<br>Down drops it—there to hide grimace,<br>Contortion of the mouth and nose<br>At finding Mary in the place<br>They'd keep for Pilate, I suppose!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"At last, they will not brook—not they!—<br>Longer such outrage on their tribe:<br>So, in some hole and corner, lay<br>Their heads together—how to bribe<br>The meritorious Farmer's self<br>To straight undo his work, restore<br>Their chance to meet and muse on pelf,<br>Pretending sorrow, as before!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Forthwith, a posse, if you please,<br>Of Rabbi This and Rabbi That<br>Almost go down upon their knees<br>To get him lay the picture flat.<br>The spokesman, eighty years of age,<br>Gray as a badger, with a goat's<br>Not only beard but bleat, 'gins wage<br>War with our Mary. Thus he dotes:—</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Friends, grant a grace! How Hebrews toil<br>Through life in Florence—why relate<br>To those who lay the burden, spoil<br>Our paths of peace? We bear our fate, <br>But when with life the long toil ends,<br>Why must you—the expression craves<br>Pardon, but truth compels me, friends!—<br>Why must you plague us in our graves?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Thoughtlessly plague, I would believe!<br>For how can you—the lords of ease<br>By nurture, birthright—e'en conceive<br>Our luxury to lie with trees<br>And turf,—the cricket and the bird<br>Left for our last companionship:<br>No harsh deed, no unkindly word,<br>No frowning brow nor scornful lip!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Death's luxury, we now rehearse<br>While, living, through your streets we fare<br>And take your hatred: nothing worse<br>Have we, once dead and safe, to bear!<br>So we refresh our souls, fulfil<br>Our works, our daily tasks; and thus<br>Gather you grain—earth's harvest—still<br>The wheat for you, the straw for us.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'"What flouting in face, what harm,<br>In just a lady borne from bier<br>By boys' heads, wings for leg and arm?"<br>You question. Friends, the harm is here—<br>That just when our last sigh is heaved,<br>And we would fain thank God and you<br>For labor done and peace achieved,<br>Back comes the Past in full review!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'At sight of just that simple flag,<br>Starts the foe-feeling serpent-like<br>From slumber. Leave it lulled, nor drag—<br>Though fangless—forth what needs must strike<br>When stricken sore, though stroke be vain<br>Against the mailed oppressor! Give<br>Play to our fancy that we gain<br>Life's rights when once we cease to live!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Thus much to courtesy, to kind,<br>To conscience! Now to Florence folk!<br>There's core beneath this apple-rind,<br>Beneath this white-of-egg there's yolk!<br>Beneath this prayer to courtesy,<br>Kind, conscience—there's a sum to pouch!<br>How many ducats down will buy<br>Our shame's removal, sirs? Avouch!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Removal, not destruction, sirs!<br>Just turn your picture! Let it front<br>The public path! Or memory errs,<br>Or that same public path is wont<br>To witness many a chance befall<br>Of lust, theft, bloodshed—sins enough,<br>Wherein our Hebrew part is small.<br>Convert yourselves!'—he cut up rough.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Look you, how soon a service pair<br>Religion yields the servant fruit!<br>A prompt reply our Farmer made<br>So following: 'Sirs, to grant your suit<br>Involves much danger! How? Transpose<br>Our Lady? Stop the chastisement,<br>All for your good, herself bestows?<br>What wonder if I grudge consent?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'—Yet grant it: since, what cash I take<br>Is so much saved from wicked use.<br>We know you! And, for Mary's sake,<br>A hundred ducats shall induce<br>Concession to your prayer. One day<br>Suffices: Master Buti's brush<br>Turns Mary round the other way,<br>And deluges your side with slush.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Down with the ducats therefore!' Dump,<br>Dump, dump it falls, each counted piece<br>Hard gold. Then out of door they stump,<br>These dogs, each brisk as with new lease<br>Of life, I warrant,—glad he'll die<br>Henceforward just as he may choose,<br>Be buried and in clover lie!<br>Well said Esaias—'stiff-necked Jews!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Off posts without a minute's loss<br>Our Farmer, once the cash in poke,<br>And summons Buti—ere its gloss<br>Have time to fade from off the joke—<br>To chop and change his work, undo<br>The done side, make the side, now blank,<br>Recipient of our Lady—who,<br>Displaced thus, had these dogs to thank!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Now, boy, you're hardly to instruct<br>In technicalities of Art!<br>My nephew's childhood sure has sucked<br>Along with mother's-milk some part<br>Of painter's-practice—learned, at least<br>How expeditiously is plied<br>A work in fresco—never ceased<br>When once begun—a day, each side.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"So, Buti—(he's with God)—begins:<br>First covers up the shrine all round<br>With hoarding; then, as like as twins,<br>Paints, t'other side the burial-ground,<br>New Mary, every point the same;<br>Next, sluices over, as agreed,<br>The old; and last—but, spoil the game<br>By telling you? Not I, indeed! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Well, ere the week was half at end,<br>Out came the object of this zeal,<br>This fine alacrity to spend<br>Hard money for mere dead men's weal!<br>How think you? That old spokesman Jew<br>Was High Priest, and he had a wife<br>As old, and she was dying too,<br>And wished to end in peace her life!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"And he must humor dying whims,<br>And soothe her with the idle hope<br>They'd say their prayers and sing their hymns<br>As if her husband were the Pope!<br>And she did die—believing just<br>This privilege was purchased! Dead<br>In comfort through her foolish trust!<br>'Stiff-necked ones,' well Esaias said!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"So, Sabbath morning, out of gate<br>And on to way, what sees our arch<br>Good Farmer? Why, they hoist their freight—<br>The corpse—on shoulder, and so, march!<br>'Now for it, Buti!' In the nick<br>Of time 'tis pully-hauly, hence<br>With hoarding! O'er the wayside quick<br>There's Mary plain in evidence!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"And here's the convoy halting: right!<br>Oh, they are bent on howling psalms<br>And growling prayers, when opposite!<br>And yet they glance, for all their qualms,<br>Approve that promptitude of his,<br>The Farmer's—duly at his post<br>To take due thanks from every phyz,<br>Sour smirk—nay, surly smile almost!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Then earthward drops each brow again;<br>The solemn task's resumed; they reach<br>Their holy field—the unholy train:<br>Enter its precinct, all and each,<br>Wrapt somehow in their godless rites;<br>Till, rites at end, up-waking, lo,<br>They lift their faces! What delights<br>The mourners as they turn to go?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Ha, ha, he, he! On just the side<br>They drew their purse-strings to make quit<br>Of Mary,—Christ the Crucified<br>Fronted them now—these biters bit!<br>Never was such a hiss and snort,<br>Such screwing nose and shooting lip!<br>Their purchase—honey in report—<br>Proved gall and verjuice at first sip!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Out they break, on they bustle, where,<br>A-top of wall, the Farmer waits<br>With Buti: never fun so rare!<br>The Farmer has the best: he rates<br>The rascal, as the old High Priest<br>Takes on himself to sermonize—<br>Nay, sneer 'We Jews supposed, at least,<br>Theft was a crime in Christian eyes!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Theft?' cries the Farmer. 'Eat your words!<br>Show me what constitutes a breach<br>Of faith in aught was said or heard!<br>I promised you in plainest speech<br>I'd take the thing you count disgrace<br>And put it here—and here 'tis put!<br>Did you suppose I'd leave the place<br>Blank therefore, just your rage to glut?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'I guess you dared not stipulate<br>For such a damned impertinence!<br>So, quick, my graybeard, out of gate<br>And in at Ghetto! Haste you hence!<br>As long as I have house and land,<br>To spite you irreligious chaps,<br>Here shall the Crucifixion stand—<br>Unless you down with cash, perhaps!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"So snickered he and Buti both.<br>The Jews said nothing, interchanged<br>A glance or two, renewed their oath<br>To keep ears stopped and hearts estranged<br>From grace, for all our Church can do;<br>Then off they scuttle: sullen jog<br>Homewards, against our Church to brew<br>Fresh mischief in their synagogue.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"But next day—see what happened, boy!<br>See why I bid you have a care<br>How you pelt Jews! The knaves employ<br>Such methods of revenge, forbear<br>No outrage on our faith, when free<br>To wreak their malice! Here they took<br>So base a method—plague o' me<br>If I record it in my Book!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"For, next day while the Farmer sat<br>Laughing with Buti, in his shop,<br>At their successful joke,—rat-tat,—<br>Door opens, and they're like to drop<br>Down to the floor as in there stalks<br>A six-feet-high herculean-built<br>Young he-Jew with a beard that balks<br>Description. 'Help ere blood be spilt!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"—Screamed Buti: for he recognized<br>Whom but the son, no less no more,<br>Of that High Priest his work surprised<br>So pleasantly the day before! <br>Son of the mother, then, whereof<br>The bier he lent a shoulder to,<br>And made the moans about, dared scoff<br>At sober Christian grief—the Jew!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Sirs, I salute you! Never rise!<br>No apprehension!' (Buti, white<br>And trembling like a tub of size,<br>Had tried to smuggle out of sight<br>The picture's self—the thing in oils,<br>You know, from which a fresco's dash<br>Which courage speeds while caution spoils)<br>'Stay and be praised, sir, unabashed!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Praised,—ay, and paid too: for I come<br>To buy that very work of yours.<br>My poor abode, which boasts—well, some<br>Few specimens of Art, secures,<br>Haply, a masterpiece indeed<br>If I should find my humble means<br>Suffice the outlay. So, proceed!<br>Propose,—ere prudence intervenes!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"On Buti, cowering like a child,<br>These words descended from aloft,<br>In tone so ominously mild,<br>With smile terrifically soft<br>To that degree—could Buti dare<br>(Poor fellow) use his brains, think twice?<br>He asked, thus taken unaware,<br>No more than just the proper price!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Done!' cries the monster. 'I disburse<br>Forthwith your moderate demand.<br>Count on my custom—if no worse<br>Your future work be, understand,<br>Than this I carry off! No aid!<br>My arm, sir, lacks nor bone nor thews:<br>The burden's easy, and we're made,<br>Easy or hard, to bear—we Jews!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Crossing himself at such escape,<br>Buti by turns the money eyes<br>And, timidly, the stalwart shape<br>Now moving doorwards; but, more wise,<br>The Farmer,—who, though dumb, this while<br>Had watched advantage,—straight conceived<br>A reason for that tone and smile<br>So mild and soft! The Jew—believed!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Mary in triumph borne to deck<br>A Hebrew household! Pictured where<br>No one was used to bend the neck<br>In praise or bow the knee in prayer!<br>Borne to that domicile by whom?<br>The son of the High Priest! Through what? <br>An insult done his mother's tomb!<br>Saul changed to Paul—the case came pat!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Stay, dog Jew ... gentle sir, that is!<br>Resolve me! Can it be, she crowned,<br>Mary, by miracle,—Oh bliss!—<br>My prevent to your burial-ground?<br>Certain, a ray of light has burst<br>Your vale of darkness! Had you else,<br>Only for Mary's sake, an pursed<br>So much hard money? Tell—oh, tell's!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Round—like a serpent that we took<br>For worm and trod on—turns his bulk<br>About the Jew. First dreadful look<br>Sends Buti in a trice to skulk<br>Out of sight somewhere, safe—alack!<br>But our good Farmer faith made bold:<br>And firm (with Florence at his back)<br>He stood, while gruff the gutturals rolled—</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Ay, sir, a miracle was worked,<br>By quite another power, I trow,<br>Than ever yet in canvas lurked,<br>Or you would scarcely face me now!<br>A certain impulse did suggest<br>A certain grasp with this right-hand,<br>Which probably had put to rest<br>Our quarrel,—thus your throat once spanned!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'But I remembered me, subdued<br>That impulse, and you face me still!<br>And soon a philosophic mood<br>Succeeding (hear it, if you will!)<br>Has altogether changed my views<br>Concerning Art! Blind prejudice!<br>Well may you Christians tax us Jews<br>With scrupulosity too nice!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'For, don't I see,—let's issue join!—<br>Whenever I'm allowed pollute<br>(I—and my little bag of coin)<br>Some Christian palace of repute,—<br>Don't I see stuck up everywhere<br>Abundant proof that cultured taste<br>Has Beauty for its only care,<br>And upon Truth no thought to waste?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'"Jew, since it must be, take in pledge<br>Of payment"—so a Cardinal<br>Has sighed to me as if a wedge<br>Entered his heart—"this best of all<br>My treasures!" Leda, Ganymede<br>Or Antiope: swan, eagle, ape,<br>(Or what's the beast of what's the breed)<br>And Jupiter in every shape! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Whereat if I presume to ask<br>"But, Eminence, though Titian's whisk<br>Of brush have well performed its task,<br>How comes it these false godships frisk<br>In presence of—what yonder frame<br>Pretends to image? Surely, odd<br>It seems, you let confront The Name<br>Each beast the heathen called his god!"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'Benignant smiles me pity straight<br>The Cardinal. "'Tis Truth, we prize!<br>Art's the sole question in debate!<br>These subjects are so many lies.<br>We treat them with a proper scorn<br>When we turn lies—called gods forsooth—<br>To lies' fit use, now Christ is born.<br>Drawing and coloring are Truth.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'"Think you I honour lies so much<br>As scruple to parade the charms<br>Of Leda—Titian, every touch—<br>Because the thing within her arms<br>Means Jupiter who had the praise<br>And prayer of a benighted world?<br>He would have mine too, if, in days<br>Of light, I kept the canvas furled!"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'So ending, with some easy gibe.<br>What power has logic! I, at once,<br>Acknowledged error in our tribe<br>So squeamish that, when friends ensconce<br>A pretty picture in its niche<br>To do us honor, deck our graves,<br>We fret and fume and have an itch<br>To strangle folk—ungrateful knaves!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"'No, sir! Be sure that—what's its style,<br>Your picture?—shall possess ungrudged<br>A place among my rank and file<br>Of Ledas and what not—be judged<br>Just as a picture! and (because<br>I fear me much I scarce have bought<br>A Titian) Master Buti's flaws<br>Found there, will have the laugh flaws ought!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"So, with a scowl, it darkens door—<br>This bulk—no longer! But makes<br>Prompt glad re-entry; there's a score<br>Of oaths, as the good Farmer wakes<br>From what must needs have been a trance,<br>Or he had struck (he swears) to ground<br>The bold bad mouth that dared advance<br>Such doctrine the reverse of sound!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Was magic here? Most like! For, since,<br>Somehow our city's faith grows still <br>More and more lukewarm. and our Prince<br>Or loses heart or wants the will<br>To check increase of cold. 'Tis 'Live<br>And let live! Languidly repress<br>The Dissident! In short,—contrive<br>Christians must bear with Jews: no less!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=116386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"The end seems, any Israelite<br>Wants any picture,—pishes, poohs,<br>Purchases, hangs it full in sight<br>In any chamber he may choose!<br>In Christ's crown, one more thorn we rue!<br>In Mary's bosom, one more sword!<br>No, boy, you must not pelt a Jew!<br>O Lord, how long? How long, O Lord?"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a></strong> from <em><a href="http://sources.citatepedia.com/from.php?a=Robert+Browning&d=Pacchiarotto">Pacchiarotto</a></em></div>

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