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William Wordsworth - A Jewish Family In A Small Valley Opposite St. Goar, Upon The RhineWilliam Wordsworth - A Jewish Family In A Small Valley Opposite St. Goar, Upon The Rhine
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          GENIUS of Raphael! if thy wings             Might bear thee to this glen,           With faithful memory left of things             To pencil dear and pen,           Thou would`st forego the neighbouring Rhine,             And all his majesty--           A studious forehead to incline             O`er this poor family.           The Mother--her thou must have seen,             In spirit, ere she came                                            To dwell these rifted rocks between,             Or found on earth a name;           An image, too, of that sweet Boy,             Thy inspirations give--           Of playfulness, and love, and joy,             Predestined here to live.           Downcast, or shooting glances far,             How beautiful his eyes,           That blend the nature of the star             With that of summer skies!                                          I speak as if of sense beguiled;             Uncounted months are gone,           Yet am I with the Jewish Child,             That exquisite Saint John.           I see the dark-brown curls, the brow,             The smooth transparent skin,           Refined, as with intent to show             The holiness within;           The grace of parting Infancy             By blushes yet untamed;                                            Age faithful to the mother`s knee,             Nor of her arms ashamed.           Two lovely Sisters, still and sweet             As flowers, stand side by side;           Their soul-subduing looks might cheat             The Christian of his pride:           Such beauty hath the Eternal poured             Upon them not forlorn,           Though of a lineage once abhorred,             Nor yet redeemed from scorn.                                        Mysterious safeguard, that, in spite             Of poverty and wrong,           Doth here preserve a living light,             From Hebrew fountains sprung;           That gives this ragged group to cast             Around the dell a gleam           Of Palestine, of glory past,             And proud Jerusalem!
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