Collected Works (Vol. I)

JEPHTHAH 67 Shall thirst for our inheritance in vain ; Thou hast no lot nor part in Gilead. And now, he gathers to himself vain men, Violent folk, and breakers of the law, And holds aloof in rocky deserts, where The land, accurst of God, is barren still Of any herb, or flower, or any tree, And has no shelter, nor sweet watersprings, Save where a lonely cave is hollow, and where A meagre fountain sucks the sand. folk Are naked of his counsel and defence Against the tribe of Ammon, and stand aghast 5 Our feeble arms sway doubtfully long swords, And spears are flung half-heartedly ; and he With warlike garrison and stronger arms Who might have helped us, laughs, and violence Threatens the white flower of our homes: our wives, Daughters, and sons are as a prey to them, And where the children of the Ammonites Throng not swift hoofs for murder, Jephthah’s men Blaspheme our sanctuaries inviolate, And rob us of our dearest. Woe on woe Hangs imminent to crush the slender sides And battered bulwarks of our state. O thou Whose hoary locks and sightless eyes compel Our pity and our reverence, and whose mouth Foams with the presence of some nearer god Insatiate of thy body frail, give tongue, If tongue may so far master deity As give his fury speech, or shape thy words From the blind auguries of madness. Our PROPHET. Ha! The rose has washed its petals, and the blood Pours through its burning centre from my heart. The fire consumes the light; and rosy flame Leaps through the veins of blue, and tinges them With such a purple as incarnadines The western sky when storms are amorous And lie upon the.breast of toiling ocean, Such billows to beget as earth devours In ravening whirlpool gulphs. My veins are full, Throbbing with fire more potent than all wine, All sting of fleshly pangs and pleasures. Oh! The god is fast upon my back ; he rides My spirit like a stallion ; for I hate The awful thong his hand is heavy with. ELEAZAR. Speak, for the god compels, and we behold. PROPHET. A harlot shall be mother of Israel. CHORUS. He speaks of her who sighed for Gilead. PROPHET, A maiden shall be slain for many men. CHORUS. A doubtful word, and who shall fathom it? PROPHET. Thy help is from the hills and desert lands. CHORUS. Our help is from the hills: we know the Lord. PROPHET. Death rides most violently against the sun. CHORUS. And who shall bridle him, or turn his way? lor Fate alone of gods, inflexible, wAnd careless of men’s deeds, is firm in heaven. PROPHET. I sec a sword whose hilt is to thy hand. CHORUS, But which of us shall wield the shining blade?