his whole heart over the deliverance of the children of Israel out of Egypt, rejoices, too, that all the wicked ones who have done the children of Israel hurt, have ended by taking themselves off; that King Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Haman, Antiochus, Titus, and all such people, are well dead, while he, Moses Lump, is yet alive, and eating fish with wife and daughter; and I can tell you, Doctor, the fish is delicate and the man is happy, he has no call to torment himself about culture, he sits contented in his religion and in his green bedgown, like Diogenes in his tub, he contemplates with satisfaction his candles, which he on no account will snuff for himself; and I can tell you, if the candles burn a little dim, and the snuffers-woman, whose business it is to snuff them, is not at hand, and Rothschild the Great were at that moment to come in, with all his brokers, bill discounters, agents, and chief clerks, with whom he conquers the world, and Rothschild were to say: 'Moses Lump, ask of me what favor you will, and it shall be granted you';--Doctor, I am convinced, Moses Lump would quietly answer: 'Snuff me those candles!' and Rothschild the Great would exclaim with admiration: 'If I were not Rothschild, I would be Moses Lump.'"[175] There Heine shows us his own people by its comic side; in the poem of the _Princess Sabbath_[176] he shows it to us by a more serious side. The Princess Sabbath, "the _tranquil Princess_, pearl and flower of all beauty, fair as the Queen of Sheba, Solomon's bosom friend, that blue stocking from Ethiopia, who wanted to shine by her _esprit_, and with her wise riddles made herself in the long run a bore" (with Heine the sarcastic turn is never far off), this princess has for her betrothed a prince whom sorcery has transformed into an animal of lower race, the Prince Israel. "A dog with the desires of a dog, he wallows all the week long in the filth and refuse of life, amidst the jeers of the boys in the street. "But every Friday evening, at the twilight hour, suddenly the magic passes off, and the dog becomes once more a human being. "A man with the feelings of a man, with head and heart raised aloft, in festal garb, in almost clean garb he enters the halls of his Father. "Hail, beloved halls of my royal Father! Ye tents of Jacob, I kiss with my lips your holy door-posts!" Still more he shows us this serious side in his beautiful poem on Jehuda ben Halevy,[176] a poet belonging to "the great golden age of the Arabian, Old-Spanish, Jewish school of poets," a contemporary of the troubadours:-- "He, too,--the hero whom we sing,--Jehuda ben Halevy, too, had his lady-love; but she was of a special sort. "She was no Laura,[177] whose eyes, mortal stars, in the cathedral on Good Friday kindled that world-renowned flame. "She was no chatelaine, who in the blooming glory of her youth presided at tourneys, and awarded the victor's crown.