University of Virginia Library

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.