University of Virginia Library

THE RIVALS,

A SACRED DRAMA.

PERSONS.

• Joshua , General of the Israelites.
• Phineas , the High Priest.
• Zabdi , a noble Israelite of the house of Judah.
• Zalmon , representative of the eldest branch of Judah.
• Achan , son to Zabdi.
• Aboliah , an herald.
• Phanuel , a Zidonian proselyte.
• Israelites.

[ACT I.]

Scene.—A Camp: the Ruins of Jericho, seen at a distance.
JOSHUA, PHINEAS, ABOLIAH, the Leaders of the ISRAELITES—The Army drawn up in Battalia.
Military Music.
Joshua.
Cease your vain minstrelsie! nor raise the wrath
Of Heaven with sounds profane!—for, if I judge
Aright, all is not harmony within!— [Music ceases.

Can it be so, ye Israelites! that you,
For whom th'eternal laws that rule the globe
Suffer tremendous change, that you for whom
The waters rose in chrystal pride, yon walls
In all their pomp of loftiest masonry
Sunk to the level of the stagnant pool
That you, in heavenly favour rank'd so high,
Cloth'd in such dreadful dignity, should dare,
In proud defiance of Heaven's late commands,
To long for tinsel toys, for glittering gems
That shed below a pale fantastic day
Thro' subterranean worlds, in dubious gleam?
You that were born to gaze on yonder sun
And lift your glory to the wondering stars!
Degenerate warriours, can you thus forget
Already the Almighty hand which laid
Yon rampires low! if ye provoke him far
Your secret prayers may draw his vengeance down
By granting what you wish, the yawning earth
May send you down, with living eyes, to see
The sunless scenes, where Mammon sits in gold
Amidst his mineral glories high enthron'd
In the mock splendours of malignant light,—
Dread this, ye rebels!—Are the cohorts gone
To summon Ai's proud sons?

Abol.
They are, my Lord!

Jos.
We dread the consequence, unless your tears
And penitence appease the Power incenst
Who led us here! Yet still he condescends
By me to warn you, nay, more humble still,
He means to your own reason to submit
The motives of your mission, and his wrath,
Against the nations round! He chuses no:
By regal interdict your hands to bind,
Nor deign to tell you why. He now repeats
By me his motives, tho' vouchsaf'd before,
To bend your stubborn minds (if aught can bend)
Or leave you nought to plead. 'Twas not for spoils,
'Twas not to fight amid the raging flames
For molten ore. 'Twas not to strip the dead,
And load our groaning waggons with the stores
Of sacrilege—from Baalim's shrines to rend
The offering of pollution, silver, gold,
And gems, (by vice and idol rites profan'd)
For which from trembling Nile, the hand of Heaven
Led us thro' high suspended seas, that flank'd
Our passing files with horrours all their own!—
'Twas not for this the sovereign voice of heaven
Summon'd the sounding waters from our way—
Upon th'eternal turbulence of floods
Imposing solemn pause. 'Twas not for this
Yon well-compacted masonry, that slept
For many a slow-revolving moon unmov'd,
In rigorous repose, at the dread sound
Of Aaron's hallowed trumps forget to sleep,
And left their limy beds in dreadful dance
Like Nature's last convulsion! Had the will
Of Heaven design'd to give us splendid seats;
In silken luxury to lap our limbs,
To bid us court the gales in groves of palm,
Or citron shades beside meand'ring rills,
To form our beds of down, to bind our brows
With gemmy lustre, and to load our board
With all the luxuries of sea and air,
With all that haunt the streamlet and the grove:
For this, he might have led us to the springs
Of Nile, or sent us west to fix our seats
On Tingitana's fair Atlantic shore,
Where still th'indefatigable soil
Teems with her annual bounty, unimpair'd,
Her plains with harvests deep, her jocund hill
With viny chaplets crown'd, and olives gay.
—But it was not for this that Israel's god
Selected us among the numerous tribes
That roam the face of earth; his favouring care,
Not always by such blessings is dispens'd—
They often snare the soul! It was to keep
His sacred law inviolate, and pure,
Which figures scenes more splendid yet to come.
—It was, by our high-fortun'd state to shew
The nations round what glories crown the heads
Of the obedient, we his instruments
Of equitable wrath and vengeance just
Were sent to scourge his foes, to seize the soil
Which thro' their crimes, (if they persist in crimes)
They forfeit to their founder: should we seize
The glittering spoils selected from the war
The price of blood and tears, oblations meet
For these fell spirits, whose polluted fanes
Their treasures deck'd (fit bribes to conjure down
Their demon favours on the future deeds
Of violence and outrage) should the tribes
Of God, with such vile dross profane their hands.
Soon the contamination from the palm
Would reach the deep-infected mind, and taint
The chosen people with the sin that drew
Perdition on our foes. Then obloquy
Would hunt along our execrated names
From age to age, with this well-earn'd reproach
“These are the hypocrites, that scourg'd the world,
“Pretending Heaven's commission, to destroy
“His foes, and thro' the nations to dispense
“Heaven's vengeance at their will: but lust of gold
“Not love of right, nor piety impell'd
“Their furious expedition, else their care
“Had shunn'd the taint of crimes which they themselves
“Were sent to punish, not to patronize.
“Thus Heaven is partial, or they too had felt
“For their foul deeds, her vengeance in their turn,
“Or all is by the hand of Chance dispens'd!”—
Thus were Heavens' name blasphem'd, her holy law
Brought into foul reproach by us, whom Heaven
Had like a flaming beacon on a hill,
Sent, as a warning to the nations round
Of kindling wrath!—
Beware then—lest your waning light be lost
In dim eclipse, and Stygian fogs obscure
Your luminary, till it sets in night,
Primæval night, and Heaven's impartial hand,
Select another lamp to shed around
The mental beam unsullied—would you shun
This foul reproach and ruin;—would you wish
To keep th'unutterable name unblam'd?—
Teach your hands continence! instruct your eyes
To view the pride of Tyrian looms, the stores
Of Babylon, of Ormus, and of Ind,
Without a languishing unsated gaze,
So shall Jehovah lead your armies forth,
So shall your heaven-commission'd sabres wear
An unabated edge, and Canaan's tribes
Sink at the growing terrours of your name!

Phin.
Joshua! Your dread remonstrance has expell'd
(If I conjecture right) the lurking pest,
If any yet remains,—the signs of awe
And penitence pervade the mighty host!

Josh.
'Tis well! it were a shame, that Gentile breasts
Should own a sense of duty, far beyond
Our feebler feelings! think on Rahab's worth!
Think on what bribes she scorn'd, her parent's life,
Her lover's (not to speak of meaner things,
Riches and honours) had she broke the laws
Of hospitality, and given our spies
To Canaan's rage!—Her piety to heaven
Preferr'd the sacred voice of sovereign truth,
Of pure unbias'd reason! Be it thine,
Aboliah, to take care, that with respect
Worthy her merit, the distinguish'd fair
May be receiv'd!

Abol.
Your orders are obey'd.
The gratitude of Achan for a life
Redeem'd by her, has tax'd his diligence
To match the maid's reception to her worth.
—His cohorts form her guard, in all the pomp
Of eastern majesty, as if some queen
From distant Aram, or from Elam's plains,
Had deign'd to visit us!

Josh.
Some future time, we will consult the means
Her merit and her suffering to reward.
—Meantime the evening sacrifice awaits
Our presence, let the general host attend!

[Military Music. Exeunt.
Scene.—Another part of the Camp.—Same prospect.
PHANUEL, ACHAN.
Phan.
Despise his menace! what concerns it thee,
Who, when the awful interdict was given,
Wast absent? What was done, thou well may'st plead,
Was done before the mandate met your ear!
You were employ'd on an important charge
Apart, the care of Rahab! that may calm
Your fears, if any terrours yet remain.

Ach.
My former doubts are nearly all dispell'd,
Whether celestial vengeance min'd yon towers,
Or if they fell by chance, seems dubious yet.—
For grant the first, that unremitting hand
That checks the torrents roar, and whelms the mound
Before our dreadful march, benignant, seems
My secret views to favour: All my hopes
Seem ripening fast—my eldest rival fell
In yon proud city's ruin; at my word
The snares of death enclos'd him, nor was I
To blame! I only gave his frenzy way,
And he himself, with voluntary hand
Drew down perdition, by his country's love
(Vain meteor) led to fling his life away!—
But when I weigh my merit with the worth
Of Rahab; when I think on Zalmon's love
I feel despair with chilling hand arrest
My heart, and blast the spring of all my joys!

Phan.
Your humbleness of mind has had its use.
Even your desponding thoughts have urg'd you on,
To lay your basis firm and deep, beyond
The storm of Fortune, or the sapp of Fate.—
Nor yet indulge these fears! when they prevail
They check the active powers! attend to Hope,
And hear what she suggests! Could Heaven dispose
The chain of things, that since have come to pass,
More prosperous to thy view? The priestly hand
(As if the plunder'd gold had touch'd his palm)
Has cast the lot on Zalmon, to conduct
Our chosen legions to the fields of Ai,
Your second rival leaves the lists to thee.
The lovely maid is left within thy guard,
But thou, as if with him thy better mind
Were fled, in ling'ring doubt mispend'st the hours
That courts thee to thy hopes! Address the fair
With all the fervency of love, assail
Her yielding heart; you own she has not yet
Repell'd your vows, nor shewn the least surmise
That she suspects thee for her lover's fate.

Ach.
She does not. But the time is adverse yet,
To amorous parly, while the recent loss
Of that lov'd youth, with all the tyranny
Of grief, usurps her soul: a day will come
To dry her tears!

Phan.
And Zalmon may return.
—Thus to the negligent, or fearful man,
Fresh obstacles spring up, like noxious weeds
That choke the sluggard's field!

Ach.
I dread his worth,
'Tis true; and his is not a heart that scorns
The softer passion! But my hopes arise
From this reflection, that his bosom burns
With fiercer flame for glory, which he calls
A godlike zeal. In him the mighty minds
Of all his great progenitors survive,
And oft the splendid prospects of our tribe
Mount his aspiring soul above the moon.
His is the elder branch, the regal rod
By Jacob promis'd to great Judah's line,
He deems will grace his progeny at last!

Phan.
His pride may here deceive him! To the line
At large the promise is bestow'd, and thou
Claim'st equal right with him, for in thy veins
Flows the pure blood of Phares, as in his.—
In Israel oft the younger has usurp'd
His elder's birthright, by his merits won—
Witness your great progenitor himself,
Who won the blessing, by old Isaac meant
For his degenerate brother.

Ach.
This when time
Accords. But, meantime, be it far from me
To thwart his princely pride with any claims
Of mine, ambitious to transmit the line
To after ages pure! Be mine the task
With recent fuel still to feed his pride;
On this I'll build, with cautious vigilance.—
To be prepar'd for all emergencies
Becomes th'attentive mind that means to rise.—
Should Zalmon from the fields of Ai return
In triumph; by success his native pride
Would only flame the higher; he suspects
Not yet my love for Rahab, and to me
His kinsman, late his fellow envoy, deigns
Familiar audience; then my ready art
Will paint his purpose to debase the blood
With gentile Canaan's, in so foul a shape
As soon must turn his passion to disgust!—

Phan.
And will you miss the fair occasion given
To bear her hence beneath the friendly veil
Of night that favours amorous thefts? thy stores
Snatch'd from the ruins of yon smoaking walls
Might bribe a legion! from the multitude
Who at our General's interdict repine
Which robs them of their spoils! the soldiers due
Our toil has form'd a small but faithful band—
Those, tir'd to bear the double discipline
Of poverty and war, resolve to win
And wear the glittering spoil: Thy secret hoard
Of wealth, affords enough to cloy the wish
Of Avarice, and leave enough besides
To give you rank, where'er you fix your seat
And dignity, above your utmost hopes—
—Before the full moon wanes, my friends shall bear
The lovely fugitive to Gaza's shore—
—Thy care, I hope, has chosen for her guard
A man to thee devoted!

Ach.
None are there
But what have tasted, or expect to taste
My bounty: for the pruning hook and spade
Their future portion here, they long to share
A less laborious lot.

Phan.
Then why delay?
In Gaza's friendly port, the brigandine
Mann'd by Sidonians, waits her welcome freight.

Ach.
The winds are adverse still!

Phan.
But on yon heights
That front the rising sun, the vapours tell
That the deep current of the air, which flow'd
Eastward, begins to ebb, and soon will turn
Towards the West, and sweep with sounding wing
The sands: for so the balance of the sky
Requires, still changing with alternate sway.

Ach.
Our voyage thence to Sidon by the shores
Is long and dangerous!

Phan.
But on Sidon's shore
A splendid settlement awaits the man
Who carries riches thither, they are poor
But like the frugal bee, that ceaseless roves
From flower to flower, industrious. So they roam
From isle to isle, thro' all the sea-girt bounds
Of Javan, with an ever-changing freight
Where'er necessity impells their fails.—
—Thy riches there would raise thee to a height
Above the poor and limitary Kings
Whose little realms in those umbrageous vales
Are lost, or on the cliff-crown'd hills afar
Their frontier castles meet with hostile frown
And parcel out the rock: But there, the power
That rules the main, shall see thy vessels plow
Her foamy bosom to the distant shores
Of Gades and Atlantis, thee the winds
Shall all obey, and smooth their ruffian plumes
To bring thy precious bales to Sidon's coast.
Thy hostile keels, on this devoted land
May pour thy well paid legions, and subdue
Their rude militia, at thy splendid files
Amaz'd: thy scythed cars may sweep their plains
Thy skilful mercenaries from the bounds
Of Chettim brought, (for deeds of arms renown'd)
Will teach to force the gate, the mound to scale
To point the column, and with wheel reverse.
To flank the Hebrew's trembling host, and pour
Confusion on the rear,—was not the rod
Of royalty to Judah's line decreed?
And art thou not of Judah's line? perhaps
Thy victor files, from Sidon's border led
May give the promis'd crown, and Lebanon
From his imperial brow beholds his groves
His tributary groves, already wait
Thy destin'd steel his glory to extend
And bid his stately timbers plow their way
Thro yon proud surge, to visit other worlds
Beyond the seeming boundless deep, and then
Say, wilt thou linger here, and trust your hopes
To Passions veering gale, to the poor chance
That Zalmon's lordly mind may scorn the maid
Of alien and of humble race? away!
Trust not the fickle balance of the soul
Dependent on a breeze! the steady breath
Of Fortune or of Fate distends thy sail!—
The fair occasion smiles, like yonder moon!
But envious clouds may soon eclipse her light
And envious fiends may cross thy favour'd way
If thou shouldst faulter now!—

Ach.
Thy friendly zeal
Demands my thanks: yet Phanuel! Oh my friend
Great is the hazard, unappriz'd! unwarn'd,
To bear her hence, unconscious as I am
If I possess such interest in her heart
As may assure my pardon!

Phan.
Thou a man
A soldier, and dismay'd? forget thy fear!
And tell thy flattering heart, the sex forgive
All ills their beauties cause!—

Ach.
Yet truest love
Is mixt with awe: But fate commands—I go
To spring the mine that ruins or exalts
My hopes for ever.

[Exit Achan.
Phan.
Go! believing fool!
Clear sighted to the specious arts of priests
And scorning superstition, but involv'd
In double darkness by thy easy faith
In man—thou knowest not yet, but soon shalt learn
When the deep surge o'erwhelms thee, that thou art
No more but Phanuel's tool—but go and bear
Thy treasures and thy future bride on board!—
—What means this phantom? or I dream, or night
Deceives me with her soul-appalling shapes
Or he again is here, and Zalmon too
Mysterious Fate!—or Chance!—or are there Gods
That thwart our purpose? But be calm! my soul!—

PHANUEL, ZALMON, ACHAN.
Phan.
Zalmon return'd so soon? is Ai subdued?

Zal.
Go ask the dead, which lie around her gates!
The flower of Israel fallen! I met my friend
And brought him back, for he and thou art call'd
This instant to the General's tent to see
A second levy by the sacred lots!

Phan.
Then be it so!—and have the sacred lots
Decided thus already?—But—for thee
They managed well—thy 'scape declares their truth
Tho' still the hostile troops exulting threat!
Was it the part of Zalmon to return
And leave his gallant troops without a head
Or heart?

Zal.
How much I scorn to clear my fame
To thee, my silence soon could shew! but thou
My friend in danger, who hast seen my deeds
Shalt know, that here, in the inglorious lap
Of Safety, Zalmon ne'er shall waste his prime
When glory calls! I only hither came
To tell of our disaster and return
With our new levies, ere to-morrow's dawn.—
But thou, as thou reverest thy noble race
Thy safety or thy dignity, avoid
Evil communication, for it leads
To misery, shame and ruin!—

Phan.
Who art thou
That dar'st prescribe to him?—art thou the head
Of all the name? is he not fit to chase
His friendships and his enmities?

Ach.
No more!
Zalmon! lead on, we'll instantly return

[To Phanuel.
[Exit Achan and Zalmon.
Phan.
I was too warm!—'twere better I had sooth'd
This Zalmon's pride of blood, for I have means
To strike a deadly blow, without a threat—
—An injury is easier to be borne
Than broad avow'd contempt, scorn and desiance
Of us, weak, reptile slaves to do our worst!—
And this shall Zalmon feel! and Achan too
His kinsman, will I make my tool, my drudge
The missive thunder in this prompt right hand
To bear my vengeance home, if by his means
I am detained here. I will not trust
To the precarious fortunes of the field
Alone,—proud Lord! altho' thy pulse beats high
With Judah's richest blood, I'll find the means
To lower its tone a pitch, and on thy cheek
Produce another tint.—But why so soon
Returns my brave compeer?

Enter ACHAN.
Ach.
Death to my hopes!—
This other blow, like lightning's nimble stroke
That withers the strong hand, in act to strike
And mocks the threat'ning of the lifted spear
Has laid our labour'd plans for ever low!

Phan.
What can have happen'd since to shake thee thus?

Ach.
The lot is cast,—and I that lately stood
Like a fair tree on Tabor's flowring side
With all my boughs full summ'd, and spreading wide
Am left a blasted trunk!

Phan.
Be more thyself,—this passion may betray
Thy secret purpose,—in this dreadful eve
Each ear is open, and each ghastly eye
Is on the watch, to scrutinize the Fates
Attendant on to-morrow's dawn!

Ach.
Alas!
Before to-morrow's dawn, my gallant friends
Devoted to my service, even but now
So prompt for me to tread the savage waste
Or hoist the dubious sail on unknown seas
(Where never Israelite embark'd), are doom'd
Without remission, or reprieve, to try
The fatal pass, where late our brethren fell!
There all the Gods that seem'd but now subdued
Rally in gloomy legions and return
That panic thro' our files, which Canaan's sons
Thro' all their trembling borders felt so late!—

Phan.
Was it the General's order? did he seem
To wear the changing look of dark surmise?
Did he select them for the dangerous post
With lurking malice, hid in seeming praise?

Ach.
No—on my soul! the noble veteran seem'd
So wrapt in holy fear, and bent with grief
For public honour lost, and heavenly wrath,
(Altho' the cause was hid) that I'm assur'd
He nothing doubts of me! the sacred lots
Before my faltering foot the entrance crost
Had mark'd them for the tomb!

Phan.
Be not dismay'd
Again, your superstitious fear, so late
With labour overcome, and argued down
With pain, begins to cloud the sovereign light
Of Reason, and of nature! this defeat
Shows the great power (if any power there be
That rules those Israelites) or feeble grown
Or fickle; why should else those favour'd bands
Who late, (like tygers, o'er the ruin'd fold)
Sprung o'er yon city's prostrate walls and slew
Matrons, and babes, and warriours, all confus'd,
Now fly, like driven deer, before a foe
Less numerous and less warlike? is it thus
They take possession of the promis'd land
Is it with their dead bodies? what they gain'd
By magic, or by chance, is lost! no more
The elements, or Nature's secret powers
Seem to fight for them! Ponder this, my friend!
And be thine own right hand thy God, thy bands
May yet return in triumph, or if not,
The secret means are thine, and thine alone
To levy others in their room; thy name
Is not enroll'd, and Jericho has spoils
Which none besides presume to touch!—

Ach.
My name
Is not enroll'd, and does not that involve
The semblance of some mystic meaning?—

Phan.
What?—
Now I that boast not of supernal light
No heavenly-gifted prophet, can perceive
The workings of thy mind! thou thinkest the doom
Of Heaven is pointed full at thee! that first
It strikes thy friend with monitory blow
To thee: Thus many, by their conscience rid
And gull'd by priestly art, are led to tell
The secrets of their souls, which else had slept
In peace, and: Hence, bold resolution's hue
“Is sicklied o'er by the pale cast of thought.”—
Those sudden, strange vicissitudes are calls
On manly perseverance!

Ach.
Be it so!
But manly perseverance, without means.
Will find it hard, if not impossible
To gain her ends by solitary strength!

Phan.
The star of evening to the deeper shade
Of night has scarcely yet resign'd the sky;
Behind yon palms she sets: the warning trump
Proclaims the second watch, the silent hour
Of gloom is often known to usher in
Desponding thoughts, without the needless aid
Of dark suggestion: Try this other band
They too belong to Judah's tribe, to thee
In blood ally'd, they too could aid thy flight
And aid thy love: Our late misfortune throws
Ominous conjecture on the sacred cause—
Your machinations sooner will prevail
Usher'd by gloomy discontent: it gives
An instant entrance to the dangerous thought.

Ach.
Besides what Mammon's glittering bribe may gain
And what the restless love of change, among
Those fiery spirits, who disdain the lot
Of present things: tho' Eden showr'd around
Her vegetable gold, with manna mixt,
Still would they pant to climb the tow'ring hills
That bound their view, to trace the burning sands
Or plow, with ventrous keel, the wave unknown—
Be these thy province, thy prompt eloquence
That speaks a daring soul, unsated still
With things possest, by instant alchymy
Of mind, transmutes them to that essence pure
That suits our purpose, while less ductile souls
Touch'd by the gleaming rays of unsunn'd ore
Shall find their metal flow: away! away!—
Our centries are reliev'd! see! how they march
Reluctant to the dangerous post!—their look
Frowns mutiny, and shews, in dark presage
Revolt, at least desertion! either chance
To us is most propitious! part we here
And to our different charge! our post we know
Remember, midnight finds us at my tent!

ACT II.

[Scene I.]

Scene.—Another part of the Camp near the Tabernacle.
Enter PHANUEL.
Phanuel
Oh that I were some God, to form anew
Those sons of earth, and in their lifeless frames
Some spirit to infuse! those new come guards
That sled before the feeble sons of Ai
Fled, tho' they thought that some supernal power
Marshall'd their troops to battle, now refuse
To leave their post, tho' mild persuasion sooth'd
Their souls, and more persuasive gold allur'd!—
What recent charm has fix'd the cowards feet
So nimble in the flight, but now, when fast
They fled before Perizzim's scythed cars!—
It cannot be religious dread, for that:
Had fixt their phalanx, firmer than the walls
Of Jericho against the tide of war:
Whate'er it be, I leave them to their fate
Till earth to earth they grow, or turn'd to stone
Stand like the monumental matron, chang'd
To rock, by sad Gomorrah's fumy lake
As fable tells! Altho' in distant hints
Of dubious import I explor'd their souls
(To keep from danger clear, lest any dar'd
Accuse me) still, I found them cold, quite cold!—
Be they accurst! but Achan must be steel'd
To suit my purpose, lest he also swerve,
Yet I have nearly from his bosom chac'd
The pious leaven, from his nurse imbib'd
And by the crafty Levite fed.—He now
Is the sole anchor of my sinking hopes
By love and strong ambition sway'd by turns
He plies with easy bend to either breeze—
Yet he and Zalmon are alike my foes
Hated alike, alike they thwart my views
Zalmon may fall in fight! if he returns
Achan and he are seeming friends. But soon
The brittle bond of amity shall melt
Before Suspicion's breath! that task be mine—
But see the lover comes! what says my friend?

Phan.
to Ach.
Hast thou prevail'd?

Ach.
I durst not press my suit,
But with due caution, and with solemn oaths
Enjoining secrecy: some to my views
Gave prompt admittance, some are doubtful still—
The bond of blood among their families
Gave easy entrance, but I dreaded yet
To try their Chief, altho' by blood ally'd
He's a fanatic, full of holy zeal!—

Phan.
We can subsist without him, could we gain
But half his band to second our attempt
And bear your double treasure, where the name
Of Israel ne'er was heard!

Ach.
This day's defeat
Would fix a party ours, nor need we doubt
But flush'd with victory, the Canaanite
Will follow his first blow, and heap the field
With larger slaughter, Zalmon too may fall!—

Phan.
If not, I have a charm for this hot youth
That soon will come like winter's frory breath
And lay his blooming honours low: But see
Where young Amaziah comes with looks of dread.

Ach.
O my presaging soul! my friends are fall'n!

SCENE II.

AMAZIAH, PHANUEL, ACHAN,
Ama.
Too true thy sad conjecture! I alone
Survive to bring the news! of all thy band
Not one is left besides! the hand of heaven
Or chance, or fate, with cruel scrutiny
Call'd them from every rank! they fell the first
Then oh! what slaughter follow'd!

Ach.
How didst thou
Thyself escape?

Ama.
I bear my death along!—
One of gigantic bulk, unseen before
In all Perizzim's armies, fell'd our van
With oft repeated blows, and rushing in
With gory lance, like some commission'd fiend
Twice twelve, the boldest of thy friends dispatch'd
To other worlds, I would have shunn'd the pest
And wheel'd amid the scattering war in vain—
He reach'd me, and his flying spear transfixt
My shoulder as thou seest, “yet live,” he cry'd
“Live till thou findst thy friends disperst, and tell
“What thou hast seen,” whate'er his words might mean
My message is deliver'd, and the load
Of life I here resign!—

[Dies.
Ach.
Where will this fearful judgment stop at last?

Phan.
Again this aguish sit! come! be a man
Why stand you thus amaz'd? now is the time
Or never, to impell the tardy fates,
And bid them favour thee, or dash thy hopes
For ever! Fortune sends a second chance
To shake the faith of yon desponding train
That guard the quarter where the lovely maid
Resides: This double overthrow will turn
The scale for us!—our tongue-ty'd eloquence
May now speak boldly, and before the sun
Bid them consult their safety, quit the camp
The Heaven-detested camp, and seek by flight
Their safety, ere the thunderbolt descends,
Already forg'd in yonder sanguine gloom
That frowns above!—

Ach.
Would Heaven! before those lips
Were clos'd I had enquir'd if Zalmon lives.—

Phan.
No matter, if he lives, he lives to us
His life, or death, are equal to our views!
Let us retire!—I see a hated foe
Approach! and see the General! his rent robes
And reverend locks besprent with dust, declare
The conflict of his soul!

[Exeunt

SCENE IV.

JOSHUA, PHINEAS,
Josh.
'Tis all in vain—the spirit of revolt
Is spread so wide, our efforts to subdue
The monster, but inflames its deadly rage
The more! Oh!—had it pleas'd our gracious Lord
Yet e'er I past yon self-dividing flood
To call me hence!

Phin.
Think what the mighty son
Of Amram suffer'd by their senseless broils
Before he reach'd our borders!

Josh.
Amram's son?
Oh my beloved master! lost, alas
To me and Israel, soft, persuasive, mild
Thou, only thou couldst bid the storm subside!
Thy word like oil, could lay the turbid wave!
But thou wastnever hemm'd, (as I am now)
By hostile nations, and domestic rage
At once!

Phin.
Say, does this poor, desponding plaint
Become the soldier of his God? the King
Of yonder hostile walls, who bends before
The shrine of Baalim, to a chizeled stone
(By each imperial lust, in turn enchain'd)
Could tell, that stern Adversity's dark hour
Distinguishes the man, from him that wears
Only the semblance! yet the spreading plague
Is partial only!

Josh.
In our chosen bands
It rages uncontroll'd, ev'n Judah's sons
Forget their sovereign hopes!

Phin.
To question Heaven
And his mysterious ways, becomes us not.—

Josh.
True, generous Levite! thy example shews
That action, not complaint, at such an hour
As this, becomes the man whose fervent zeal
Flames in the cause of Heaven! Let but thy word
Sanction our daring, and we draw the sword,
Lay waste yon seminary of revolt
And hew away yon gangren'd limb, which spreads
Infection to our vitals!

Phin.
Let it spread!—
The moment calls not for the sword, nor lance
The rampart, nor the palisaded mound
To fence our threat'ned lives! but holy calm
And resignation to whate'er the will
Of heaven awards!

Josh.
And shall we idly stand
And see our foes o'erwhelm us?

Phin.
Heaven best knows
How to protect his own, whome'er he dooms
To join the general ruin!—leave to heaven
The method and the means! the loudest wind
That shakes proud Lebanon, and bids his groves
Bow their aerial heads, and kiss the soil
Tho' seemingly without a rein it scours
The fields of Æther, and by sea and land
Ravages uncontroll'd, yet knows its bounds!—

Josh.
And am not I the minister of Heaven
And can I dread discomsiture? I go—
I cannot tamely bear to wield a sword
And see those rebels to their God, at large
Revel unchastis'd!—

Phin.
Go!—but if you do
You perish in your rashness!—yet be calm!—
Perhaps a few short moments may produce
The crisis; then if heaven commands thine arm
To lift the sure-destroying sword! obey!—
If not—presume not thou to snatch the rod
And balance from his hand, who best can turn
The course of things to punish or reward
As he decrees: our weapons now are prayers
To Heaven preferr'd, with unpolluted hands!

Josh.
Thy pardon, reverend Phineas! thou and Heaven
Forgive my rash and hasty zeal!

Phin.
May Heaven
Forgive thee, and prepare thee yet to bear
New insults still with calmness! let thy blood
Preserve its temper'd pulse, thine eye forget
To flame resentment, when thou seest the foe
Even in this holy ground, invade our right
And claim the execution of our laws
From you, from us, the delegates of Heaven!
Even at those sacred doors—The contest then
(Remember this)—is Heaven's, and Heaven's alone!
—The wonted sacrifice our presence calls
Dread not the insulting Gentiles! nearer cares
Claim our attention now, to guard at home.—

[Exeunt.
Re-enter ACHAN and PHANUEL.
Phan.
The General and the Priest are gone at last!—
Methought the veteran seem'd to menace high
But crafty Phineas sooth'd him!—This portends
Bright hopes to us, the factious spirit spreads
Beyond our utmost hopes, my friend!—couldst thou
Have thought, our cautious arts, essay'd with fear
So soon would spring to such a noble head
As makes the delegate of Moses fear
And to the tabernacles holy fence
Retire for safety? But to other thoughts
The crisis calls us!—the suspended war
Sleeps, till the cause of our defeat be found!—
Zalmon returns, and to the charge succeeds
Perhaps, of those prepared bands, which thou
Hadst led to different triumphs—but for him
We have provided!—

Achan.
[Seemingly disturbed.]
In another spot
Than this, I rather would complete my schemes!

Phan.
Falter not now! but think, the bounds are past,
And it is much too late to dream of flight!—
Steel thy weak spirit! think of Zalmon's fate
And thine, this moment is the balance weigh'd!—
—To-morrow, if thou fail'st to-night, arrives
With tardy disappointment in its train
Perhaps detection. Think, thy secret now
Rests in too many hands, to be conceal'd
Much longer! think of love, of Zidon think
Of empire and of glory!—spread around
The fault on others, if thou meanst thyself
To 'scape!—the shrine discloses! haste and pay
Thy adorations, nor neglect the time
Thine own petitions to prefer—adieu!
I must not here be seen, a proselyte
Claims not admittance to your holy rites
Till the due season!

[Exit. Achan.
Phan.
Now is my time, let me escape away
And shun the tempest, gathering at my heels!—

Scene opens, and discovers the outer Court of the Tabernacle.
JOSHUA, ACHAN, crowd of ISRAELITES at Prayer.
Achan
aside.
To them PHINEAS.

Josh.
Is there aught
Committed, or neglected, to incense
Our sovereign ruler?

Phin.
That is only known
To Israel's God, but yonder fields of Ai
Drench'd by the noblest blood of Jacob, tell
Too plain, his kindled wrath!

Josh.
Is there no means
To deprecate his rage?

Phin.
Contagion lurks
Somewhere among us, or our prayers were heard,
But in this vast assembly, is there one
Whose eye sagacious, or whose guiding hand
Can teach us how to trace the lurking pest
And drag it into day? On him we call
Let him stand boldly forth and save the tribes
From the infliction of another blow
More dreadful than the past.—

Achan.
[Aside.]
Be firm, my soul!

Phin.
Nay, if the guilty man be here, I dare
Pronounce in Heaven's dread name, his pardon seal'd
If by confession he atones his crimes.

Achan
aside.
Vengeance and Love assist me! or I'm lost
—Ye soul-subduing powers of eloquence
My flattering organs aid! To them.

Behold the man
Who, unpresuming on the sacred gift
Of prophecy or prescience, but impell'd
By public love alone, with suppliant voice
Prays your indulgence, while his lips disclose
Things he can prove, and to your wisdom leaves
The just conclusion thence to be inferr'd!

Phin.
Speak out, and boldly!

Josh.
Thou hast nought to fear
I know thee sage and noble! Achan's name
Forbids us to expect a futile charge
Or feebly grounded!

Ach.
Joshua! thy support
Is kind, and comes in season, for my voice
(Never till now in such unwelcome task
Employ'd) must publish names—ah much endear'd
To me, to all, by deeds of genuine worth,
And more, by lineal honours!—Would to Heaven
Beneath yon fatal rampires my pale corse
Had fall'n, before to my sad lot it fell
To trumpet forth a friend's disgrace, before
This presence, but your late tremendous charge
And this august assembly conjure down
All selfish passions, every partial thought,
(Tho' for my friend), and I am Israel's all!—
Avaunt! ye private sympathies! ye charms
Ye social ties of single soul to soul!—
Avaunt! there is no pulse in this sad frame
But for the public beats.

Josh.
He speaks, as Heaven
Had now inspir'd him! Phineas! now, at last,
Expect an answer to your prayers! O now
No more the haughty Canaanite shall line
The pass, and intercept with double death
Our sinking legions!

Phin.
Yet suppress thy zeal!—
See his lips labour, and his frame, convuls'd
Beneath the deadly secret seem to sink!—
I fear some much belov'd, much honour'd name
Will pass those lips, and some great chieftain's doom
Will send the loud lament along your lines
In oft repeated sorrow!

Ach.
Thou hast guess'd
O reverend Priest! aright! but be no blame
To his accuser! would my lips were clos'd
In Death's eternal trance, e'er I were forc'd
To name the name of Zalmon, but in terms
Due to my friendship, and his matchless worth
For matchless worth is his! But oh! I fear
His partial passion for a lovely maid
Among our captives, whom his thoughtless love
Designs to wed, and mix his sacred line
With Gentiles, and with slaves, draws down this plague.

Phin.
Before this tribunal none is condemn'd
Unheard, let Zalmon strait be call'd, and thou
Achan! prepare thee to support thy charge
With clearest circumstance, before the face
Of Israel and her God, assembled here!

Josh.
Go, heralds! and assemble here in haste
By sound of trump the universal name
Of Israel by their tribes and families
To tend this awful trial and to learn
By terrible example how to keep
With stricter care, their theocratic law!

Phin.
Woe to the guilty, for behold! above,
The clouds, in gloomy files, around the point
Of noon, diverge, and yonder deep serene
Shews the descending pomp of them, who tend
The sovereign lamp of truth! her piercing beam
Shall soon dispel the dim Tartarean fogs
Of falsehood from the mind! her holy dawn.
Shall lay the secret regions of the soul
In empyrean lights unwelcome day!
Touch'd by that beam, the lurking pest, tho' now
It 'scape the keenest sight, shall soon disclose
Its horrible dimensions!—Sound the trump!—
Raise the broad ensign of Jehovah high!
Let every soul appear, who draws his life
From Jacob's hallowed stem, for all must pass
In long review before the judging eye
And clear their innocence, or shew the cause
Why Israel's sons, whom nature's subject powers
Obey, are baffled by their Gentile foes!

[Exeunt, Phineas and Joshua go into the Temple.
Scene.—Another part of the Camp.
Zal.
And can this visitation point at me?
My love, unsanction'd by the seal of Heaven
Perhaps, has laid the pride of Israel low!—
I love thee, Rahab! in this faithful breast
Thy matchless form, thy matchless merit stamps
Thy image, never by the hand of Time
Or Fortune, to be spoil'd! Thy chosen youth
Thy Abdon, thou beheld'st to death devote,
And hadst the power to change our blood for his!—
But oh! thy nobleness of mind, thy faith
In Heaven, disdain'd the purchase of his life
By persidy, by breach of sacred trust—
Our lives were in thy hands! upon thy word
Our breath depended! thou! unequall'd maid!
Couldst have redeem'd a husband and a sire
By giving us to Fate!—thy nuptial hand
Would dignify the most ennobled name
Among our most distinguished tribes—and I—
Shall I resign the treasure?—who besides
Can urge a claim so powerful? To secure
The blessing mine, from Judah's regal tribe
(To whom the sceptre is by promise given)
I draw my lineal blood, and justly claim
Her eldest honours.—Let me muse a while!—
Is there no other duty to oppose
The calls of Passion?—yes—these very ties
Of blood—and all the honours of my race
All! all united, urge their general plea
And tell me that I live not to myself
But to my country, to my lineal claims
And to the honours of my regal stem!
High are the promises to Judah given
Of mystic import: from his root shall rise
A name by prophets, and by priest proclaim'd
The first on earth, the favour'd of the skies!
Perhaps to spring from me!—and shall I take
An alien to my bed? tho' eminent
In beauty, and with mental charms endow'd
Above the daughters of our tribes?—perhaps
Heaven favours not this union! Heaven forbid!
That I should match against thy sovereign will!
That my example should encourage more
To cull their spouses from the race accurst
Whom Heaven pursues with vengeance! tho' this maid
Be faultless, and beholds her people's crimes
With just abhorrence, others less reserv'd
Who chuse their loves, at random, by the look
Allur'd, might think their impious choice, by mine
Amply excus'd; and 'mongst our martial tribes
Disseminate the vile contagion round
Of idol worship, and her odious train
Of vile pollutions from their spouses learn'd—
—Israel might mourn, for many a luckless day
The bane of my alliance! this deserves
My serious thoughts: the general interdict
Forbade our tribes to touch the spoils accurst
Of conquer'd Jericho! perhaps that word
Included all, the captives and the stores
Alike! and shall I dare, with impious step
To rush beyond the bounds prescrib'd by Heaven
With awful prohibition? what transferr'd
Those forfeit regions, from their ancient Lords
To us, but Canaan's crimes? they stood subdued
By Vice, before the delegated sword
Of Israel, thinn'd their legions, and if we
Their victors, learn not first to rule at home
Learn not self-conquest, and to square our wills
To Heavens' behest; the very land, incenst
Will sink beneath us, and o'erwhelm our hopes
As yon fall'n towers can witness! Heaven be prais'd
I never yet my passion to the fair
Explain'd in words, she well indeed could guess
By my demeanour, that my heart was her's:
But—lately when a secret hour I stole
To visit the fair Canaanite, I found
The lustre of her eye was lost, her look
Bore symptoms of dejection, deeper far
Than for her country, even for Abdon's fate
She shew'd before!
That Achan loves her, by undoubted signs
To me is clear, and Achan has a form,—
—Has merit to secure the coyest heart
And kindle sires beneath the coldest ice
Of saintly chastity. If he has wak'd
A mutual flame, perhaps, th'enamour'd pair
Fear to confess their passion, left I urge
My prouder claim, and bid the general voice
Swell the demand with popular applause
And lineal honours, to devote the maid
To me!—I scorn the thought—yet must I lose
Sotamely this distinguished prize?—resign
My heart, to heal a lovesick warriour's sighs!
—It is a dreadful conflict—but the more
Becoming Zalmon!—then, this instant hour
While my resolves are warm, while Glory calls
To her I dedicate! and if my prayers
Can learn that Achan rules her heart, this voice
—May it be never tun'd to sing thy praise
Glory of Israel! may this recreant hand
No longer wield thy delegated sword
Against thy rebels! If I fail to cure
Her sorrows and my friend's—that friend shall find
In me a zealous advocate, beyond
His hope, for less would misbecome the name
And more than this, becomes the man, whose race
Is deem'd to bless our tribes in years to come!

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Court of the Tabernacle, the Glory descending over it.
JOSHUA, PHINEAS, ZALMON, ACHAN, ISRAELITES, Assembled by their Tribes.
Phin.
A moment yet by Providence is given
(Before the fount of mercy, closing fast
Bids kindling Vengeanee walk her dreadful round)
For penitence to urge her latest plea
And bathe her crimes in no successless tears!—
—Arrest the moment, e'er it fleets away
Ye who are conscious of a crime!—to you
Achan! I first apply! It much concerns
Him, who presumes to taint a brother's fame
Before this dread tribunal, to explore
With cautious eye, the structure of his charge
Its basis and its strength, for, if a flaw
Be found, tho' previous to a single ray
Of scrutiny, the swift pervading flame
Shall crumble it to nothing Zalmon! thou
'Gainst whom his allegation is gone forth
Must think that no permission yet is given
For Israel's sons, to tye the nuptial bond
With Gentiles, and with strangers, and if aught
Of worldly views, or passion prompts your mind
On Heaven's dread silence to presume, and frame
Laws for your conduct, let the present hour
(If thine own soul arraigns thee) be employ'd
As suits thy former character and worth.—

Ach.
If I be deem'd.—

Phin.
—No vindication now!—
The time allows not that!—I must retire—
And find what means the awful name appoints
Whether by lot, or oracle to shew
The secret pest that sapps our holy strength
And lay our glories low!

[Exit into the Tabernacle.
Zal.
Achan! my friends!—
Say why is this? is Zalmon to be call'd
Hither without accuser?

Josh.
No impatience
In look or thought this sacred presence taint!—
The accuser stands before thee!—thou prepare
For thy defence, but be all passion far
And all complaint! tho' much, I must confess,
Thy fervour shews like innocence, and well
I know thy worth, it yet becomes not me
Thus to prejudge thy cause! In other hands
Thy doom or absolution rests!

Zal.
To me
All this is wonderful!—and Achan too
My bosom friend! who shar'd my inmost soul
He my accuser! He!—Oh sacred Faith!—
But I am more than calm, I'm confident
That yon dread scrutinizing eye will shew
What I have been to him, and what to Heaven!

To them from the TABERNACLE.
Phin.
[The lots are cast.

Abol.
—The tribe of Judah—

Ach.
[Aside.]
Yet be firm my heart.—

Josh.
Aside.
O Zalmon! Zalmon! have I liv'd to see
Thy blooming honours, matchless in the field
So tainted? Oh my fall'n, degenerate friend!
Thy lapse has loos'd the strictest tyes that bind
Society! for who will trust the man
Who bears the most conspicuous signs of worth!—
—Pronounce him hypocrite!—and him whose faith
Depends upon his merit, simple, weak,
And credulous as infancy!—

Phin.
to him.
No more!—
This passion well befits thee!—but the rites
Are interrupted!—fling the counted lots
Into the urn, and be the sacred sum
Equal in number to the reverend heads
Of families in Judah!—

[The lots again are cast.
Abol.
The name of Zerah.

Zal.
Now to Heaven be praise!
The stem of Phares and his sons are free!

Josh.
Zalmon! I joy to see thee thus absolv'd!—
But mourn to think thy tribe must still supply
The guilty head!

Ach.
[In great agitation]
One word before the lots
Proceed!

Phin.
The time of recollection's past!
The scrutiny must now proceed!

Ach.
I must
And will be heard!—If you would shun the blame
Of management! of fraud! of partial care
For Zalmon's safety, bid your slave of state
Your ready implement, whose dext'rous hands
Obsequious to your eye, the lots dispose
By the dark intimations of your will—
Bid him resign to more impartial care
To some unbyas'd sage, by all the tribes
In general vote elected, else the blood
Of him who falls be on your head!

Phin.
Be it as you demand! assembled tribes
If ye object not, Achan's reverend sire
Shall match the lots to Zerah's families,
A lot for every household, who derive
Their blood from Judah's younger line. But ye
Speak your denial or assent at once!

All.
Let Zabdi be the man!—our choice is Zabdi!

Phin.
Achan, we wait alone for thy assent!
Dost thou object to him?

Ach.
I own, with joy
Thy justice and submit [aside]
if Phanuel's care
Have mov'd the treasures, yet I may escape
Detection and pursue his flight!

Phin.
Thy faith
And zeal, O reverend Zabdi! all the tribes
Acknowledge, thou dispose the sacred lots
By Zerah's families, and shake the urn!

[Lots cast.
Phin.
Joshua looking at the Lots.
Whose lot emerges?
The searching eye of Heaven!—'tis Zabdi's name!
O spare the reverend sire a further test!—
Behold his agony!

Phin.
He must proceed!
No retractation now!—he must proceed—
And, with a soldier's fortitude, sustain
The final tryal!

Josh.
[Lots cast again.
[Joshua examines the Lots.

Phin
To the God of Abraham
Be praise! who kindly sav'd his servant's lips
The painful and invidious task to name
The criminal!—Joshua! his guilt was known
Before, and in my hands the clearest proofs
Were lodg'd: nor wonder thou that I conceal'd
My knowledge! you beheld what arrogance
Was his! how he defy'd the scrutiny!
And, when he found the noble Zalmon freed
By heavenly sentence, dar'd to six on us
The taint of prejudice, and partial views
Unmerited as vile! Had we accus'd
This man by usual process, had we call'd
The witness to his guilt, his frontless pride
Had tax'd the spotless tribunal of Heaven
With foul injustice, or presum'd to sind
In the detector's hand, th'unseemly stain
Of bribes, suborning perjury! But now
His pleas are spent, he scorn'd the soothing voice
Of mercy when it call'd, he madly dar'd
To hurl defiance 'gainst the lifted hand
Of boundless wrath incenst, he deem'd the eye
Of dread Omniscience clos'd, his justice warp'd
By favour, and the sanction of his laws
His truth, and his unchangeable decrees
The sport of fickle chance, absorb'd and lost
In the blind waste of chaos and old night!—
Heaven, to confute his impious pleas at once
Made the sad father's hand, (as you have seen)
The instrument to doom the son! the sire
Deserves our pity, but the son has clos'd
The gates of mercy on himself!

Josh.
Yet say
Unhappy youth! hast thou presum'd to touch
The interdicted spoils?—confess your crimes
Make that atonement to the injur'd state!
And as your sin disgrac'd our holy cause
Let your unfeign'd acknowledgment declare
High Heaven's omniscience, and his justice prov'd
On thee! so shall thy fault, thus far aton'd
Contribute to his glory, and our good
By thy example!

Ach.
Deep within my tent
The treasures lie!

Josh.
Aboliah! go and search!

Zab.
Oh Joshua! may this fault'ring tongue presume
To plead for pity! see these hoary hairs!
Think on the battles we have fought together!
The weary leagues of yonder burning wild
We travel'd o'er, and spare the main support
Of my declining age! He has confess'd!—
—The glory of our God by him remains
Unsullied! his omniscience unimpeach'd!—
Let him survive, altho' he live with shame!

Phin.
Patience old man! he has not yet confess'd
The motives to his crime!—say hapless youth
What led thee to this errour?

Ach.
Spare my pain!—
'Twas love of your fair captive!

Josh.
How could love
(A generous passion) to ignoble deeds
Impell a son of Judah?

Ach.
Tho' I lov'd
I yet despair'd of favour! then the sense
Of my demerit and my rival's worth
Led me to try what riches might avail.
I meant (and I had brib'd a trusty band
To aid my purpose) to have borne her hence.

Josh.
Whither?

Ach.
To Zidon.

Josh.
How didst thou expect
For her or thee, a refuge with the race
Who live in darkness and the shades of death
To every lust enslav'd? Hadst thou resolv'd
The God of Israel to renounce, and live
A Gentile! an apostate! say was this
Thy final hope?

Ach.
I know not where my crimes
Had led me! Phanuel too with soothing art
Fed high my hopes of honours from his state
And dignities at Zidon, by my wealth
Procur'd, but far beyond my merit!

Josh.
Call
That Phanuel hither!—

Enter ABOLIAH.
Abol.
He is fled, my Lord!—
This as I came, I learn'd; some slaves with him
Were seen departing. In the tent we found
The cavern open'd, and the stores purloin'd
All but these talents, and this sumptuous bale
Of Babylonian texture, as it seems!—

Achan
starts.
Then Phanuel has betray'd me!—oh the pangs
Of falsehood found beneath a friendly form!

Zal.
I would not pain thee!—yet with deep regret
I mourn to think of Passion's boundless power,
That love which led thee to suspicions foul
Of me, thy natural friend! Hadst thou but known
And trusted me, this hour of guilt and shame
Had never been your lot!

Ach.
Didst thou not love
The beauteous Rahab? did I not behold
Thy passion sparkle in thine eyes, when first
Their beams met her's? Oh Zalmon! could I stand
(I know myself and thee) say could I stand
A moment's competition? wouldst thou give.
Such treasure to thy friend? and should the friend
Subdue the lover, could I be the man
That had deserv'd her of thee, could the maid
Who once had lifted her aspiring mind
To be ally'd to Zalmon, look on me?—

Zal.
To Phineas and Joshua.

Zab.
Now may that heaven whom thou aspirst
In deeds of mercy and long-suffering love
Thus to resemble, be thy great reward
Thou noble youth!—

Phin.
Young man! it cannot be!
Zabdi! I pity thee! but Heaven requires
A dread example in this crisis given
To keep your loyalty to Heaven's high power
Unflaw'd and stedfast, and to steel our troops
For the ensuing conflict! if that God
We reverence, deigns to take in full account
For all his crimes, the transitory pangs
Of death, be satisfied!—

Ach.
I do not wish
For life!—for what is life, with lasting shame?
I hate to view the light, the brand of theft
Stampt by each eye and burning in my front
As I should walk the camp! I but implore
One moment of indulgence, while I ask
My noble friend, (alas too lately known)
A single question!—Zalmon! from your words
(Tho' dark of import) on my soul there seem'd
To dawn a prospect, of a deed of friendship
Which from your innate modesty you meant
To bury in oblivion!

Zal.
Ask to know
No more, the knowledge would but pain thee now!

Ach.
Oh! no! my friend! whate'er would cheapen life
Would be most welcome now! whate'er would serve
To wean me from the world, which as I gaze
Seems fleeting from me, whatsoe'er would make
My penitence more poignant and severe,
Whate'er would point the salutary pang
That stings the torpid mind to better life
A life of virtue—were most welcome now!—
Nor Zalmon! be a niggard of the boon!—
Give the sharp medicine! tho' it pierce the heart!
It yet may cure the soul, and endless time
May thank thee, in the worlds beyond the sun!

Zal.
Thy eloquence has mov'd me—hapless youth!
Sad victim of temerity! and lost
By thy despondence lost!—by diffidence
In me! thou mightest have better known thy friend!—
But 'tis too late to blame!—thou wouldst not own
Thy love to me; I doubted first, and soon
By accident I found it! Tho' my flame
For Rahab, burn'd with tenfold fervour, still
I doubted Heaven's concurrence, and withheld
My passion with strong rein, I saw her sad
And thee desponding, I suspected thence
A secret, hopeless flame had touch'd your hearts
With mutual fervour, and I meant (just Heaven!
Would I had made my purpose known to thee!)
I meant, with all my care to scrutinize
The lovely strangers heart, and, if I found
Thy image there, the influence I had us'd
To draw the secret thence, had made her own
Her passion! then to thee had I disclos'd
The glad discovery, and resign'd my claim,
Nay I have reason (but alas—why tell
The cruel secret now) to think her heart
Was thine! But I have said too much! forgive
Thy thoughtless friend—thy colour comes and goes!
O Achan, how thine eyeballs glare! thy limbs
Speak thy mind's torture!—they are all convuls'd
What shakes thee thus? what speechless agony?

Achan,
after a long pause.
No—I have found my speech! and would to Heaven
My sight were gone! eternal darkness, hide
Oh hide me from his sight! an injur'd friend!
His eyes are blasting!—cover me ye hills!
Pile rocks on rocks upon me! hurl me down
To central darkness, where no dawning star
May wake my pangs, nor light upbraid me more!
I plann'd his ruin, while he meant me life
And happiness! yet do I live to look
Upon him?—

Zal.
Why this agony? thy friend
Forgives thee, and may Heaven forgive thee too!

Ach.
Still deeper torment of remorse! begone!
Avaunt! thy sight is wounding! that mild look
Harrows my soul like scorpions stings!—away!
Ye walls of Jericho! would I had fall'n
Beneath thy thund'ring ruins! lead me hence
Conduct me to my fate!—
Lest this right hand, the direful instrument
Of black despair, another lesson learn
From her dire lips, and with determin'd rage
Cut short my being!

Phin.
Lead him to my tent
Till we assuage this tumult of his soul
Now far,—oh far unfit to meet his God
(In this wild frenzy)! as a victim due
To justice, he must fall, but potent prayers
And Heaven's blest influence must expel the fiend
That labours for his ruin! lead him hence!

[Ex. Omn.