 | The heir of the world, and lesser poems |  |
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THE CONQUEROR'S CHILD.
From Aroer's field of glory and the towers
Of Minnith smouldering mid blood and flame,
The conquering chieftain, girt with all his powers,
In pomp of terror unto Mizpeh came;
Loud blew his war-horn—spears flashed gory red,
And the earth trembled 'neath his courser's tread.
Of Minnith smouldering mid blood and flame,
The conquering chieftain, girt with all his powers,
In pomp of terror unto Mizpeh came;
Loud blew his war-horn—spears flashed gory red,
And the earth trembled 'neath his courser's tread.
Proud Ammon had been humbled—far and wide
Dark Ruin hovered o'er the unburied dead;
The paynim foe had perished in his pride—
The oppressor slept on slaughter's crimson bed;
The sword of God in Jephthah's giant hand
Had left the record of its might o'er all the land.
Dark Ruin hovered o'er the unburied dead;
The paynim foe had perished in his pride—
The oppressor slept on slaughter's crimson bed;
The sword of God in Jephthah's giant hand
Had left the record of its might o'er all the land.
Bright in the sun the burnished armour shone,
And blood-stained sabres glittered in the air,
Bearing true witness unto glory won
In stern affray—and every warrior there
Burned with that lofty spirit ever given
To them who do the sovereign hests of heaven.
And blood-stained sabres glittered in the air,
Bearing true witness unto glory won
In stern affray—and every warrior there
Burned with that lofty spirit ever given
To them who do the sovereign hests of heaven.
The mighty chieftain gloried in that hour,
And felt how greatness grows within the heart
Of him who nourishes the germ of power;
No pride of birth can such high joy impart
As one good deed by inborn valour wrought—
Conceived unaided in the depths of thought.
And felt how greatness grows within the heart
Of him who nourishes the germ of power;
No pride of birth can such high joy impart
As one good deed by inborn valour wrought—
Conceived unaided in the depths of thought.
There is no majesty but that of mind:
The purple robe, the sceptre and the crown
The rudest hands can fashion;—as the wind,
The body's pomp the guiltiest wretch may own;
But, like the sun that burns from pole to pole,
O'er all creation reigns the godlike soul.
The purple robe, the sceptre and the crown
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The body's pomp the guiltiest wretch may own;
But, like the sun that burns from pole to pole,
O'er all creation reigns the godlike soul.
So Jephthah proved; for born in low estate,
And driven forth by pride of place, he roved
Lone o'er the world, the sport of chance and fate,
Oppressed and wronged—unloving and unloved.
Behold him now in victory's brightest van!
His own great spirit formed that mighty man.
And driven forth by pride of place, he roved
Lone o'er the world, the sport of chance and fate,
Oppressed and wronged—unloving and unloved.
Behold him now in victory's brightest van!
His own great spirit formed that mighty man.
Let envy, hate, fraud, falsehood—all combine
To crush the spirit self-sustained—'tis vain—
No human power can blast a thing divine;
The shaft rebounds—the ambushed foe is slain,
E'en by his own envenomed weapon—wait,
O son of grief, the thunderbolt of Fate!
To crush the spirit self-sustained—'tis vain—
No human power can blast a thing divine;
The shaft rebounds—the ambushed foe is slain,
E'en by his own envenomed weapon—wait,
O son of grief, the thunderbolt of Fate!
For it will come in wrath—though long delayed,
And pour its sea of lightnings o'er the heart
That swells in festering pride o'er hopes betrayed,
Exulting—for its doom! on thine own part
Keep virtue by thy side—thine eye above—
And envy's scorn will thy true greatness prove.
And pour its sea of lightnings o'er the heart
That swells in festering pride o'er hopes betrayed,
Exulting—for its doom! on thine own part
Keep virtue by thy side—thine eye above—
And envy's scorn will thy true greatness prove.
Be lord of thine own spirit, and look down
On the base scatterling herd with pity's smile;
So thou shalt keep the glory and the crown
Of goodness raised above the reach of guile,
And feel that heavenly peace which o'er the breast
Comes like sweet music from the realms of rest.
On the base scatterling herd with pity's smile;
So thou shalt keep the glory and the crown
Of goodness raised above the reach of guile,
And feel that heavenly peace which o'er the breast
Comes like sweet music from the realms of rest.
Just cause had Gilead's sons to wail the hour,
When, proud of their inheritance, they spurned
The bastard boy and mocked him in their power;
Behold him now, in glory's front, returned
From exile—bearing in his mighty hand
The sceptre-sword that guards and rules the land!
When, proud of their inheritance, they spurned
The bastard boy and mocked him in their power;
Behold him now, in glory's front, returned
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The sceptre-sword that guards and rules the land!
Ye little know, proud reptiles of a day!
What 'tis ye sting in your impotent spite;
The giant's breath will blast you all for aye
Ere ye can crawl into eternal night;
Beware how ye would trample on the mind—
Vengeance and death and ruin are behind!
What 'tis ye sting in your impotent spite;
The giant's breath will blast you all for aye
Ere ye can crawl into eternal night;
Beware how ye would trample on the mind—
Vengeance and death and ruin are behind!
Onward careers great Ammon's victor—he
Who long in caves and forest wilds abode,
Weary and faint, the child of misery—
His only friend the omnipresent God!
Let earth admire the wisdom of his trust,
And choose that faithful Friend for ever just!
Who long in caves and forest wilds abode,
Weary and faint, the child of misery—
His only friend the omnipresent God!
Let earth admire the wisdom of his trust,
And choose that faithful Friend for ever just!
Oh, when the path of life is hard beset,
And thy sick heart grows faint and sighs alone,
And all that thou in the world's ways hast met
Have left thee in affliction's need and gone
To revel's halls or beauty's fairy bower—
Go, seek a faithful friend in that dark hour!
And thy sick heart grows faint and sighs alone,
And all that thou in the world's ways hast met
Have left thee in affliction's need and gone
To revel's halls or beauty's fairy bower—
Go, seek a faithful friend in that dark hour!
And kneel down in thy lowliness and ask
His guidance through the mazes of earth's wo
And hooded guilt; and set thee to the task
Of empire o'er thyself, and thou wilt know
How passing great and good thy God will be
In life's worst ills and last extremity.
His guidance through the mazes of earth's wo
And hooded guilt; and set thee to the task
Of empire o'er thyself, and thou wilt know
How passing great and good thy God will be
In life's worst ills and last extremity.
And do it in thy youth, when the fresh spring
Of joy mid sunny thoughts runs brightly on,
And thy gay spirit soars on rainbow wing
Through the clear heaven of beauty; then alone
On thy heart's shrine kneel humbly down and make
Thy vow to God, for His and for thy sake.
Of joy mid sunny thoughts runs brightly on,
And thy gay spirit soars on rainbow wing
Through the clear heaven of beauty; then alone
On thy heart's shrine kneel humbly down and make
Thy vow to God, for His and for thy sake.
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And thou wilt feel the happier, though the jeer
And scoff of the false world may goad thee sore;
Yet keep thy bosom void of care and fear—
Lose not that faith all earth could not restore!
The purest virtues neath the sky have been
The sport of jest profane and ribaldry obscene.
And scoff of the false world may goad thee sore;
Yet keep thy bosom void of care and fear—
Lose not that faith all earth could not restore!
The purest virtues neath the sky have been
The sport of jest profane and ribaldry obscene.
Then thou wilt find him true in all his ways,
As to the prophets and wise kings of yore;
His smile will brighten sorrow's darkest days,
And light with bloom death's vale and time's dark shore;
In all thy griefs thou wilt know where to go—
In all thy sickness and thy cares below.
As to the prophets and wise kings of yore;
His smile will brighten sorrow's darkest days,
And light with bloom death's vale and time's dark shore;
In all thy griefs thou wilt know where to go—
In all thy sickness and thy cares below.
The mighty victor, with his bright array
Of valiant warriors, in his glory goes
O'er hill and dale, like morning's earliest ray,
Now lost, now flashing through the clouds of rose,
Till Mizpeh brightens on the lengthening view—
Hanging far off on the horizon blue.
Of valiant warriors, in his glory goes
O'er hill and dale, like morning's earliest ray,
Now lost, now flashing through the clouds of rose,
Till Mizpeh brightens on the lengthening view—
Hanging far off on the horizon blue.
Then Jephthah's heart beat high with pride of fame,
Fame which his wife and only child would share—
Alas! how long that lovely daughter's name
Will be the watchword of his heart's despair!
How long rash vows and all unheedful words
Have broken human hearts and edged unsparing swords!
Fame which his wife and only child would share—
Alas! how long that lovely daughter's name
Will be the watchword of his heart's despair!
How long rash vows and all unheedful words
Have broken human hearts and edged unsparing swords!
The great have fallen from their pride of place—
The good have perished in an evil hour—
The lovely lost their beauty's loveliest grace—
And love and pleasure felt the awful power
One moment wields o'er time; a word hath rent
Empires to atoms, and o'er nations sent
The good have perished in an evil hour—
The lovely lost their beauty's loveliest grace—
And love and pleasure felt the awful power
One moment wields o'er time; a word hath rent
Empires to atoms, and o'er nations sent
Long bitter strife and misery and death;
Through seas of blood, o'er hills of human bones,
While awful voices shrieked and wailed beneath,
Armies have marched to death, and glorious thrones
Changed masters on the instant—how or why?
Go, ask the idle wind that murmurs by!
Through seas of blood, o'er hills of human bones,
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Armies have marched to death, and glorious thrones
Changed masters on the instant—how or why?
Go, ask the idle wind that murmurs by!
Men talk of glory and immortal fame,
And pant for honours and the world's applause,
As if the glitter of a spangled name
Would win reversion of great nature's laws;
Ah! who can trust what changes with a breath?
Rests glory's crown upon the brow of death?
And pant for honours and the world's applause,
As if the glitter of a spangled name
Would win reversion of great nature's laws;
Ah! who can trust what changes with a breath?
Rests glory's crown upon the brow of death?
Loud rose the shouts of triumph and of pride
O'er Mizpeh's plain and Gilead's glittering heights,
And loud again the conqueror's shouts replied
As o'er the hills, like storm clouds' fitful lights,
The victor-band rushed on in long array,
Loaded with spoils from Ammon's fearful fray.
O'er Mizpeh's plain and Gilead's glittering heights,
And loud again the conqueror's shouts replied
As o'er the hills, like storm clouds' fitful lights,
The victor-band rushed on in long array,
Loaded with spoils from Ammon's fearful fray.
Unbounded joy filled every bosom then,
And mirth's loud uproar through the city poured,
And Jephthah was the happiest of men—
The hero king, whose sceptre was his sword;
And his heart glowed in unrestrained delight
To be thus welcomed from the glorious fight.
And mirth's loud uproar through the city poured,
And Jephthah was the happiest of men—
The hero king, whose sceptre was his sword;
And his heart glowed in unrestrained delight
To be thus welcomed from the glorious fight.
But mid his jubilee of fame and pride—
Amid his honours and his pomp of state,
A soft, sweet voice rose by the hero's side—
A voice more awful than the shriek of Fate;
“Bless thee, my father! we've looked long for thee—
“O, welcome now!—thou dost not look on me!
Amid his honours and his pomp of state,
A soft, sweet voice rose by the hero's side—
A voice more awful than the shriek of Fate;
“Bless thee, my father! we've looked long for thee—
“O, welcome now!—thou dost not look on me!
“Wilt thou not kiss me, father? O! 'tis long
“Since thou didst fold me in thy dear embrace!
“Come, father, come! I'll sing thee a sweet song,
“And thou shalt hear and change that gloomy face;
“Why, thou art very strange and cold to me
“Amid the glory of thy victory!”
“Since thou didst fold me in thy dear embrace!
“Come, father, come! I'll sing thee a sweet song,
“And thou shalt hear and change that gloomy face;
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“Amid the glory of thy victory!”
“Bought with thy blood, my dear, lost, only child!”
No more the hero's quivering lips could speak;
His crimson brow grew pale—his fixed eye wild—
Tears drowned his voice—his mighty frame grew weak;
The warrior-chief of Ammon's awful day
Sunk in his daughter's arms and swooned away!
No more the hero's quivering lips could speak;
His crimson brow grew pale—his fixed eye wild—
Tears drowned his voice—his mighty frame grew weak;
The warrior-chief of Ammon's awful day
Sunk in his daughter's arms and swooned away!
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