Judith, Esther, and other poems

Calm was the hour; Bethulia's fertile heights
Rose duskily; night's dome of deepened blue
Swelled beauteous o'er her countless founts of light,
Softening their brilliancy with gentle dew.

Sad city, thou behold'st with dying hopes
Thy mountains mournful in the mellow beams,
The stranger's tent conceals their flowery slopes,
And hostile hands withhold their plenteous streams!

And, mourning in thy streets, thy children bare
(Opening the lip, blood-wet or sorely dry,)
Their burning bosoms; while the moistened air
Heightens the thirst it cannot satisfy.

With even step in mourning garb arrayed
Fair Judith walked, and grandeur marked her air,
Though humble dust, in pious sprinklings laid,
Soiled the dark tresses of her copious hair.

While to her dwelling's tented top ascends
The voice of many a sufferer below,
Who, supplicating at her portal, spends
His fainting breath in hollow tones of woe.

A faithful maiden on the battlement,
Where pity still impelled her, bending o'er,
Though her heart bled at every accent, learnt
And wept the woes she could not soften more.

With cheek unstained by unavailing tears
Judith beheld; her noble heart was wrung,
Yet pensively serene her brow appears,
And wisdom's words flow sweeten'd by her tongue.

“Sapphira, weep no more, thou gentle maid,
But once again their piercing griefs allay,
To all alike be bountiful,” she said,
“As far as with our wasted means we may.”

‘When thou art pleased, dear lady, to command,
'Tis not for me to utter weak replies;
Yet, I entreat thee close thy bounteous hand,
All that we now have left would scarce suffice.

‘To each a scanty draught—tomorrow's noon
With scorching breath shall tell thy throbbing veins,
The last thick drop from every cistern's gone,
Save that which still thy beauteous boy sustains.’

“But for a hope, sure 'tis a hope from heaven!
To keep our altars from pollution free,
All, save for him alone, ere now were given,
And we had shared the general misery.

Then if our prayers and sufferings could not move
The Lord to look in mercy from his throne,
Our uncomplaining patience we would prove.
And die the general trespass to atone.

“Would die? Alas! 'twill not be ours to die,
When the vile heathen ope our temple's doors,
How many a wronged and wretched one will sigh,
In her life blood, to wash its holy floors.

“If succour come not, ere five days are o'er,
This morn our elders yielded the decree,
Sad children of captivity once more,
We crouch before the impious enemy.

“But haste thee to thy task of charity,
Do all thou canst and bid them not complain,”
She said, and bent in humbleness the knee
Until th' attentive maid returned again.

Then thus resumed, “Prepare the rich array,
Which in my days of joyfulness I wore;
This evening's moon must light me on the way
To bring you blest relief—or come no more.

“With one weak virgin through Bethulia's vale
I go to seek the Assyrian chief to night;
Through lawless hoards that trust in spear and mail,
Wild with success and glorying in their might.

“Armed in compassion and in faith, I dare
The threatening horrours of that dangerous way—
Nor trust, to purchase shameful safety there,
The colouring and structure of my clay.

“These limbs have ne'er in soft allurement moved,
This face could never smile with syren art,
My honoured lord in his uprightness loved,
Nor needed more to fix his constant heart.

“I know thy love would every peril brave,
And well would wish to bid thee follow me,
But may thy care, so true and tender, save
My boy—that dearer one remains with thee.

“Oh! my Sapphira! if these towers must fall,
If naught avails, and ye are captive led—
Teach his young heart to know the Lord of all,
And tell him in what cause his mother bled.

“But much is to be done, the evening wends
My ripened purpose may not brook delay,”
She said, and with Sapphira mild descends,
To cast her robes of widowhood away.

Now, all the needful preparation done,
Her handmaid waits the moment to depart;
But in sweet slumber rests her little son,
And all the mother struggles at her heart.

“He will be safe,” she said, “or should he not,
His life is heaven's—be it what it may.”
Thus spake Religion, but the tender thought
Evades its power, she sought him as he lay.

Softly supine his rosy limbs reposed,
His locks curled high leaving the forehead bare,
And o'er his eyes the light lids gently closed,
As they had feared to hide the brilliance there.

She kissed his fragrant lips, and that high soul
Had melted, but Sapphira's bursting sigh
Recalled her slumbering wisdom to control,
The tear that almost trembled in her eye.

Now to Bethulia's gate, the intrepid dame,
Where the chief elders of the City stand,
Attended by one trembling follower came
Bethulia's gate was oped at her command.

For though her purpose was but known in part,
From earliest childhood not a breath had soiled
The fairness of her fame: Detraction's dart
From that bright crystal rock, fell ever foiled.

And all in wonder of her beauty stood,
To see her on the mountain-path's descent,
They knew, whatever her intent, 'twas good,
And raised the hand and blessed her as she went.

Soon, with still step, she treads the vale of dew,
Where its clear founts in mournful murmurs play,
And the first watch of the Assyrian crew,
Beholds and intercepts her on the way.

‘Whence art thou come and whither doest thou go?’
“Behold a Hebrew woman. I have come
From yon devoted city, for I know
My nation must be given you to consume.

“Where is your warlike leader? To declare
Alone to him a tale of truth, I fled.
Soon may you win our hills and vallies fair,
Nor shall a single drop of blood be shed.”

‘So hast thou saved they life, and bravely done.
Go to his presence, fearlessly and free,
Declare thy purpose: never yet was known
Our lord to scorn a messenger like thee.’

Quick to conduct the beauty to his tent,
A hundred ready warriors they chose,
While to the chief a favourite youth was sent,
Of flowing speech to lure him from repose.

In languid posture the proud victor lay,
Gem-broidered purple canopied his bed,
Soft Pleasure's breath had warmed th' inactive day,
But light-winged slumber fluttered o'er his head.

When thus the youth, ‘rise mighty conqueror, rise!
For more than thou can'st dream of beauty bright
Is blooming for thee! Hero, ope thine eyes!
Oh, sun, the loveliest moon is suing for thy light!’

He slowly raised him at the gentle sound—
“Surpassing fair—Bagoas—dost thou say?”
‘Fairer than pearls—the like cannot be found
From’—“Help me then to rise. Slaves, lead the way.”

All unadjusted from his couch he rose:
While borne before him lamps of silver flame,
As 'twere alike, or beauty, or repose,
With leisure step, indifferent he came.

So many bowed beneath his conquering arms,
So many lovely captives wait his sigh,
Unmoved he wanders through a world of charms,
And scarcely raises his fastidious eye.

And well he deemed that now some tender maid,
While thousand fears her hapless bosom shook,
Her timid charms—her all that's left, displayed,
Supremely happy, if he deigned to look.

But firm at his approach, the stately dame
Stood, like a graceful column, and with cheek
Crimsoned by scorn, when near the pagan came,
She slowly fell before him proudly meek.

Silent he stood a moment, with surprise
His every movement, every look, was fraught:
Then “whatsoe'er thy purpose, lady, rise,
Declare to me thy nation, fear thou naught.

Judith arose, and uttered the deceit,
Her soul disclaimed the while, in accents free:
Her rounded tones flow from her lips as sweet
And fragrant as the drops of Carmel's bee.

“Oh! thou most excellent of all the earth,
Alike in wisdom as in war renowned!
Receive thy handmaiden, of Hebrew birth,
So shall thine efforts with success be crowned!

“My nation trusteth in her God alone,
Nor sword nor spear against her can prevail,
But for their sins her children must atone,
Death's on the watch and all their succours fail.

“The first fair ears that crown the gilded field,
The first ripe clusters of the curling vine,
The first rich streams our teeming olives yield,
Are food forbidden by a law divine.

“Those holy fruits reserved and sanctified.
'Tis sacrilege to touch with hands profane;
But their impatient wants must be supplied,
And, daring all, they will not long abstain.

“By the great God I've ever served, their fate
Is given me to know, in secret thought,
Nor might I there its consummation wait,
But to declare it all thy presence sought.

“I will remain and every night, intent,
Go out to pray beside a lonely stream;
And when their crimes are ripe for punishment
It will be told me in a holy dream.

“Soon as with duteous haste I make it known,
Follow me, warrior; the way I'll lead,
Till in Jerusalem thou sett'st thy throne,
Not ev'n an insect's voice shall wake the mead.”

Her mellow accents ceased, but at his heart
Sweetly reverberates their magic sound;
From his dark eyes his wild emotions dart,
And thus his tongue impetuous utterance found.

Thou mine of wisdom, gem of light divine,
Do as thy soul directs thee! Thou art free:
All once performed, the god thou serv'st is mine,
Well may he be adored for forming thee!

So, pondering on her purpose, Judith stayed
Within her tent, while three days lent their light;
And thence with fervency went out and prayed,
And bathed her in a lucid stream by night.

Now, on the fourth, th' impatient victor spread
A sumptuous feast, the moments to beguile,
That all around with drooping pinions tread,
And pant to sport in the fair Hebrew's smile.

“Bagoas, linger not, allure her here,”
He said, “with fairest promise I can find
No joy but in her presence. Ah! I fear—
Is the eye loveless when the heart is kind?”

His lord's companion in the lingering hour,
Well knew the youth to feed Hope's flickering flame,
And flowing from his lip of ready power,
As quick as thought the soothing answer came.

‘Smiles still had blest thee, conqueror, but she knew
In too much sun the plant will languid prove;
And all those looks of coldness are but dew,
Fal'n to refresh the roses of thy love.

‘Why doubts my lord? Mayst thou not find as fair?
Deep in Judea's vales what flowers must glow!
Full soon thy love in thankfulness she'll share,—
Frown not, e'en now, to make thee blest, I go.’

In expectation sat the noble dame,
For well she knew th' eventful hour drew nigh;
And rose and deckt her, when the summons came,
With every pleasing art to lure the eye.

Long was the feast, the shades of night were up,
But countless lamps a noon-light splendour shed,
The thoughtless pagans ply the glittering cup,
And pleasure silenced every thought of dread.

Near the enamoured chief with wine elate,
Her hair, save what composed the platted wreath,
In glossy waves descending, Judith sate
On skins of silky softness spread beneath.

Above her forehead, fair, mid many a tress,
Her graceful head a bright tiara wore,
Yet seemed, so much was there of loftiness,
As it disdained the ornaments it bore.

While holy scorn and detestation high,
Oft as the treacherous stream she bows to sip,
Fires the bright convex of her jetty eye,
And curls the living vermil of her lip.

The cheif beheld her heightened beauties glow,
And his devoted temples ached to rest,
Temples, which oft dark ire's suffusion shew,
On the smooth arch of her majestic breast.

Her soul recoiled—o'er all the gorgeous place
Profusion fed luxurious revelry—
A little distant, her afflicted race
Have nought to drink but tears of agony.

But the blest thought, to see them all repose
On Plenty's couch; their wounded souls to cure;
To drown, in the impious tyrant's blood, their woes;
Gave renovated patience to endure.

The revellers are gone, the banquet's o'er,
And every weary slave to rest has sped;
Bagoas but remains to close the door
And lead th' inebriate warrior to his bed.

Ere he departs, Judith with prudent care,
Commands her maid to wait her coming forth,
To seek the fountain at the hour of prayer,
And stayed; nor seemed, at his entreaty, loth.

Scarcely the chief his silken pillow prest,
Before his towering form reposed supine;
The fair so warmly wished his presence blest,
But love lay senseless in a sea of wine.

Watchful Bagoas, thou too wert in bed,
The Hebrew with thy lord was left alone,
And in the lamp-beam gleaming o'er his head
With fatal light, his glittering falchion shone.

“So, his dread folds unbraced, the sated snake
In his own den's fell depths, unfearing lies!
Oh! for thine own, thy suffering people's sake,
My God, nerve thou this arm and end my enterprize!”

She said, and wreathed her fingers in his hair,
Then, his last breath the proud oppressor drew;
The blade her right hand wielded high in air
Descends: his neck was bare, her hand was true.

Mid the warm gush she smote him yet again,
And when the quivering visage severed lay,
Wiped from her ivory arms the steaming stain,
And took the costly canopy away.

Then wrapping carefully the streaming head,
Lest crimson traces might declare the tale,
Gave them in silence to her trembling maid,
And as accustomed, nightly, sought the vale.

Silent they left the fountain's margin damp,
No watch interrogates the favoured dame,
Saw from Bethulia's mount the fated camp,
And near the gates of the loved city came.

Then Judith's voice awoke the silent night:
“Descend, O watch, and praise the great divine!
Weeping Judea, arm thee in his might!
Arise! Arise! The enemy is thine!”

Soon as that voice in accents softly loud
Proclaimed 'twas Judith who her kindred sought,
With beating hearts around the gate they crowd,
And light a flame to see what she had brought.

“Behold,” she cries, “proud Holofernes' head,
Ta'en by my hand, as in his wine he slept;
Behold this canopy: it deckt his bed,
Yet by my God from every stain I'm kept,

“Now, every one that bears a sword or spear,
For a great battle get ye in array;
Soon as the morn's first glimmerings appear,
High on the mountain make a brave display.

“Then the Assyrians, seeing from the plain,
To seek their leader in his tent will haste,
And pale with fear behold the slayer slain,
Headless, and in his own vile gore debased.

“While yet the sight congeals their pampered blood,
Rush on them! all in their confusion, smite!
Nor rest nor respite till the impious brood
Lie like plucked grapes, in heaps before your sight.”

University of Virginia Library

JUDITH.