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?