University of Virginia Library

[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!