Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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| ON A PICTURE OF JEPHTHAH AND HIS DAUGHTER.
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
350
ON A PICTURE OF JEPHTHAH AND HIS DAUGHTER.
BY STROZZI. IN THE POSSESSION OF J. BRANKER, ESQ.
I.
'Tis true the painter's hand can but arrestThe moment that in Nature never stays,
But fleets impatient of the baffled gaze.
Yet if that single moment be the best
Of many years, commission'd to attest
The excellence, whose beauty ne'er decays,
Let not the mute art lack a rightful praise,
That shows the lovely ever loveliest:
And thou, sweet maid! for ever keep that look:
Thou never hadst so sweet a look till now.
Read in thy father's face, as in a book,
Thy virgin doom, the irrevocable vow.
Well were it if thy father ne'er had shook
Away the doubt that hangs upon his brow.
351
II. IN CONTINUATION.
What if the angry God hath made thy armDread as the thunderbolt or solid fire,
Or pest obedient to his vengeful ire,
Think'st thou thy oath was like a wizard's charm,
Or hadst thou need, with proffer'd blood, to farm
Jehovah's might? It proves thy faith unsure,
Thy creed idolatrous, thy heart impure;
Thy god a greedy trafficker in harm,
Not Israel's hope. But she, thy daughter, mild,
Whose eager love and over-hasty greeting,
Has made thee murderer of thy blameless child,
Loves not the less for that unhappy greeting;—
Guiltless she dies, to save thee from the guilt
Which must be thine, though her pure blood be spilt.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |