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133
ELISHA IN DOTHAN.
“Then the King of Syria warred against Israel.
“And the Man of God sent unto the King of Israel, saying, Beware that
thou pass not such a place, for thither the Syrians are come down.
“Therefore the heart of the King of Syria was troubled for this thing.
“And one of his servants said, Elisha the Prophet telleth the King of
Israel the words that thou speakest in thy bedchamber.
“And it was told him, saying, Behold, he is in Dothan.
“Therefore he sent thither horses and chariots, and a great host.
“And when the servant of the Man of God was risen early, behold, a host compassed the city.
“And Elisha prayed, and the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and
he saw, and beheld the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.
“And Elisha prayed, ‘Smite this people with blindness.’ And He smote them with blindness.
“And the King of Israel said unto Elisha, ‘My father, shall I smite them?’
“And he answered, ‘Thou shalt not smite them.’
“And he sent them away, and they went to their master.”
2 Kings vi, 8.
134
'Tis night! and the tempest
Is rushing through Heaven;
The oaks on the hills
By the lightnings are riven:
The rain in the valleys
Falls heavy and chill;
And the cataract bursts
In the bed of the rill.
Wild home for the Syrian,
On Hermon's white brow!
While the gust bears along
The scoff and the song,
From Israel's proud tents,
In the forest below.
Is rushing through Heaven;
The oaks on the hills
By the lightnings are riven:
The rain in the valleys
Falls heavy and chill;
And the cataract bursts
In the bed of the rill.
Wild home for the Syrian,
On Hermon's white brow!
While the gust bears along
The scoff and the song,
From Israel's proud tents,
In the forest below.
'Tis midnight—deep midnight,
The hour for surprise!
From the storm-shattered ridges,
The warriors arise:
Now the Syrian is marching
Through storm and through snow,
On the revel of Israel
To strike the death-blow.
No light guides his march,
But the tempest's red glare;
No ear hears his tramp
In Israel's doomed camp.
The hunters have driven,
The deer to its lair!
The hour for surprise!
From the storm-shattered ridges,
The warriors arise:
Now the Syrian is marching
Through storm and through snow,
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To strike the death-blow.
No light guides his march,
But the tempest's red glare;
No ear hears his tramp
In Israel's doomed camp.
The hunters have driven,
The deer to its lair!
Now, wild as the wolf,
When the sheepfold is nigh;
They shout for the charge,
“Let the Israelite die!”
Still, no trumpet has answered,
No lance has been flung,
No torch has been lighted,
No arrow has sprung.
They pour on the rampart—
The tents stand alone!
Through the gust and the haze,
The watch-fires still blaze,
But the warriors of Israel
Like shadows are gone!
When the sheepfold is nigh;
They shout for the charge,
“Let the Israelite die!”
Still, no trumpet has answered,
No lance has been flung,
No torch has been lighted,
No arrow has sprung.
They pour on the rampart—
The tents stand alone!
Through the gust and the haze,
The watch-fires still blaze,
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Like shadows are gone!
Then spake the King's sorcerer:
“King, wouldst thou hear,
“How these Israelite slaves,
“Have escaped from thy spear:
“Know, their prophet Elisha,
“Has spells to unbind
“The words on thy lip,
“Nay, the thoughts in thy mind.
“Though the secret were deep
“As the grave, 'twould be known.
“The serpent has stings,
“And the vulture has wings,
“But he's serpent and vulture,
“To thee and thy throne!”
“King, wouldst thou hear,
“How these Israelite slaves,
“Have escaped from thy spear:
“Know, their prophet Elisha,
“Has spells to unbind
“The words on thy lip,
“Nay, the thoughts in thy mind.
“Though the secret were deep
“As the grave, 'twould be known.
“The serpent has stings,
“And the vulture has wings,
“But he's serpent and vulture,
“To thee and thy throne!”
'Tis morning—they speed
Over mountain and plain,
'Tis noon—yet no chieftain,
Has slackened the rein.
'Tis eve—and the valleys
Are dropping with wine,
But no chieftain has tasted
The fruit of the vine.
To Dothan the horseman,
And mailed charioteer,
Are speeding like fire;
Their banquet is ire,
For the scorner of Syria,
Elisha is there!
Over mountain and plain,
'Tis noon—yet no chieftain,
Has slackened the rein.
137
Are dropping with wine,
But no chieftain has tasted
The fruit of the vine.
To Dothan the horseman,
And mailed charioteer,
Are speeding like fire;
Their banquet is ire,
For the scorner of Syria,
Elisha is there!
On thy battlements, Dothan!
That evening, was woe;
There fell the fierce hail
Of the lance and the bow.
Yet, still from the towers,
The banners were hung,
And still from the ramparts
The stormers were flung.
But, the fire-shafts are showered
On roof and on wall;
And the cry of despair,
Rises wild on the air,
For Dothan, that Eve,
Must be rescued, or fall!
That evening, was woe;
There fell the fierce hail
Of the lance and the bow.
Yet, still from the towers,
The banners were hung,
And still from the ramparts
The stormers were flung.
But, the fire-shafts are showered
On roof and on wall;
138
Rises wild on the air,
For Dothan, that Eve,
Must be rescued, or fall!
Hark! the ramparts are scaled,
All rush to the gate;
'Tis the moment of terror,
The moment of fate!
And men tore their garments,
And women their hair:
But Elisha came forth
From the chamber of prayer.
Like thunder his voice
O'er the multitude rolled:
“Jehovah, arise!
Pour Thy light on our eyes;
And show Israel the shepherds
Who watch o'er Thy fold.”
All rush to the gate;
'Tis the moment of terror,
The moment of fate!
And men tore their garments,
And women their hair:
But Elisha came forth
From the chamber of prayer.
Like thunder his voice
O'er the multitude rolled:
“Jehovah, arise!
Pour Thy light on our eyes;
And show Israel the shepherds
Who watch o'er Thy fold.”
The mountain horizon
Was burning with light;
On its brow stood the Syrian,
In glory and might;
Proud waved to the sunset
The banner's rich fold:
Proud blazed the gemmed turbans,
And corslets of gold.
And loud rose the taunt
Of the Infidel's tongue:
“Ho! Israelite slaves,
This night sees your graves.
And first, from your walls
Shall Elisha be flung!”
Was burning with light;
139
In glory and might;
Proud waved to the sunset
The banner's rich fold:
Proud blazed the gemmed turbans,
And corslets of gold.
And loud rose the taunt
Of the Infidel's tongue:
“Ho! Israelite slaves,
This night sees your graves.
And first, from your walls
Shall Elisha be flung!”
At the word stooped a cloud,
From the crown of the sky!
In its splendours the Sun,
Seemed to vanish and die.
From its depths poured a host
Upon mountain and plain,
There was seen the starred helm,
And the sky-tinetured vane,
And the armour of fire,
And the seraph's bright wing—
But no eyeball dared gaze
On the pomp of the blaze,
As their banner unfolded
The name of their King!
From the crown of the sky!
In its splendours the Sun,
Seemed to vanish and die.
From its depths poured a host
Upon mountain and plain,
There was seen the starred helm,
And the sky-tinetured vane,
140
And the seraph's bright wing—
But no eyeball dared gaze
On the pomp of the blaze,
As their banner unfolded
The name of their King!
But where are the foe!
Like a forest o'erblown,
In their ranks, as they stood,
Their squadrons are strown!
No banner is lifted,
No chariot is wheeled;
On Earth lies the turban,
On Earth lies the shield.
There is terror before them,
And terror behind;
Now, proud homicide,
Thou art smote in thy pride,
The Syrian is captive,
His host are struck blind!
Like a forest o'erblown,
In their ranks, as they stood,
Their squadrons are strown!
No banner is lifted,
No chariot is wheeled;
On Earth lies the turban,
On Earth lies the shield.
There is terror before them,
And terror behind;
Now, proud homicide,
Thou art smote in thy pride,
The Syrian is captive,
His host are struck blind!
141
There were writhings of agony,
Yells of despair,
And eyeballs turned up,
As if seeking the glare;
And sorcerers howling
To Baal in vain,
The madness of tongue,
And the madness of brain!
And groups of pale chieftains,
Awaiting in gloom,
Till the Israelite sword
In their bosoms was gored;
While the shoutings of Dothan
Seemed shoutings of doom!
Yells of despair,
And eyeballs turned up,
As if seeking the glare;
And sorcerers howling
To Baal in vain,
The madness of tongue,
And the madness of brain!
And groups of pale chieftains,
Awaiting in gloom,
Till the Israelite sword
In their bosoms was gored;
While the shoutings of Dothan
Seemed shoutings of doom!
But they knew not Elisha,
They knew not his Lord,
Unsubdued by the sword,
They were spared by the sword.
Sad, silent, and slow,
Like a funeral train,
They were led by the hand,
Over mountain and plain.
Alone by the might
Of Jehovah o'erthrown;
No drop of their blood
Stained forest or flood,
Till the host o'er the borders
Of Israel were gone!
They knew not his Lord,
Unsubdued by the sword,
They were spared by the sword.
Sad, silent, and slow,
Like a funeral train,
They were led by the hand,
Over mountain and plain.
142
Of Jehovah o'erthrown;
No drop of their blood
Stained forest or flood,
Till the host o'er the borders
Of Israel were gone!
Those, those were the triumphs
Of Israel of old!
And those were the shepherds
Who guarded the fold.
But the Leopard was loosed
From his thickets again,
And the flock of the Chosen
Were scattered and slain.
But, visions are rising,
Mysterious and grand;
The trumpet shall sound,
And the dead be unbound,
For the night is far spent,
And the day is at hand!
Of Israel of old!
And those were the shepherds
Who guarded the fold.
But the Leopard was loosed
From his thickets again,
And the flock of the Chosen
Were scattered and slain.
But, visions are rising,
Mysterious and grand;
The trumpet shall sound,
And the dead be unbound,
For the night is far spent,
And the day is at hand!
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