“Yet in our free state we’ll give him “Once again his olden rights, “His prescriptive birthright, and he “Soon again will be ennobled. “Yes, the Jews shall then enjoy too “All the rights of citizens, “And by law be made the equals “Of all other sucking creatures. “Only dancing in the market “For the Jew shall not be lawful; “This amendment I insist on “In the interest of my art. “For a sense of style, of rigid “Plastic art in motion’s wanting “To that race, who really ruin “What there is of public taste.” CAPUT VII. Gloomy, in his gloomy cavern, Squats, in his belov’d home-circle, Atta Troll, the misanthrope, And he shows his teeth, and growls thus: “Men, the pert and vulgar fellows! “Smile away! From all your smiling “And from your offensive yoke too “Shall the coming day release us! “I am always most offended “By that sour-sweet kind of quiv’ring “Round the mouth,--these smiles of man “Find I really past all bearing! “When I in his pallid visage “See display’d that fatal quiv’ring, “All my entrails in my body “Turn right round with indignation. “More impertinently even “Than by words, a man lays open “By his smile the deepest hidden “Insolence of his vile spirit. “They are always smiling! Even “When by decency is needed “Real solemnity of feature,-- “E’en in love’s most solemn moment! “They are always smiling! Even “When they’re dancing. In this manner “They degrade this noble science, “Which should be a kind of worship. “Yes, the dance throughout all ages “Was a pious act of faith; “Solemnly around the altar “Turn’d the priests in mystic circle. “Thus in olden time King David “Danced before the ark of cov’nant; “Dancing was an act of worship, “Was a prayer upon the legs! “I have ever understood thus “Dancing, when upon the market “To the people I was dancing, “Who with their applause repaid me. “This applause, I must confess it, “Often made me feel quite happy; “For extorting admiration “From one’s foes is very sweet! “But in their enthusiasm “Still they smile. The art of dancing “Powerless is to make them better, “And they frivolous remain.” CAPUT VIII. Many a very virtuous burgher Smells but badly, whilst the servants Of a king with ambergris Or else lavender are scented. Virgin spirits may be met with Which of green soap bear the odour, Whilst the criminal with rose-oil May have wash’d himself demurely. Do not therefore turn your nose up, Gentle reader, if the cave of Atta Troll may not remind you Of Arabia’s sweetest spices. Tarry in that reeking circle, ’Mid those miserable stenches, Where to his young son the hero As from out a cloud thus speaks: