How are the mighty fallen! For three whole months have I journied afoot and alone, by night and by day, through the deep of the wilderness, and along by the sea-shore--afoot and alone, my brother!--after hearing of thy great overthrow--the wreck of thy vast possessions about me whithersoever I went--thy magnificent household scattered, thy princes banished from their high places, and wandering over all the earth and hiding themselves in the holes of the rocks--with no city of refuge in their path--even thy youngest and fairest a bondwoman, toiling for that which sustaineth not; and thy own fast-approaching death, a theme with every people and kindred and tongue--and not a theme of sorrow! And all this, O my brother and my prince! only that I might be near thee in thy unutterable bereavement and humiliation, only that I might look upon thee once more alive, and see thee unchangeable as ever, though stripped of power and trampled under the hoofs of the multitude--only that I might reason with thee, face to face, before a great people, who, after watching and worshipping thee for many years, have come up together as with one heart, to see thee--_thee!_ their idol and their benefactor--perish upon a scaffold, as only the fool or the scoffer perisheth!--to cry out upon thee as the unconquerable Jew, that having once abjured the faith of his fathers and gone back to it anew, cannot be reached but by the law, nor purified but with fire! Say on. Alas, my brother! Alas that it should fall upon me to afflict thy proud spirit with reproaches at a time like this! But there is no other hope. Awake, therefore! awake! and gird up thy loins like a man. I will demand of thee, saith the Lord of Hosts, and thou shalt answer me, even as my servant Job answered me of yore. Awake, therefore, and stand up, that I may reason with thee for the last time touching the faith of our mighty fathers, the consolations of philosophy, and the splendor and power of earthly Wisdom--of Death and Judgment--while thou art on thy way to the grave in the fulness of thy strength and majesty; and _not_ with the clangor of trumpets, the neigh of steeds, the flow of drapery, and the uproar of battle!--No!--not as the High Priest, or the champion of a lofty and venerable faith, standing up like a pillar of fire in a cloudy sky, and pointing to Jerusalem as to the great gathering place of buried nations, about to reappear, with all eyes fixed upon thee and all hearts heaving with exultation! To thy grave, my brother! and not as a martyr! but as a wretch abandoned of all the earth--a twofold apostate!--a rebel and a traitor! Hark! hearest thou not a faint stirring afar off, along the shore of that multitude--a living wilderness of threatening eyes and parched lips--and ah! another moan from that huge, heavy, disheartening bell, which never stops till the sacrifice of a fiery death is over, and the object of its boding prophecy gone to the world of spirits.