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THE 
 
 JEPHTHA AND BAPTIST. 
 
EDINBl'RGK : PRINTED »Y BAI.I.ANTYNE AND CO. 
 
 FOR 
 
 J. iMOODIE MILLER. 
 
 London, ..-..-•. Hamilton, Adams, S: Co. 
 
 Cambridge Macmillan & Co. 
 
 Dublin, . M'Gla.shan Sc Co. 
 
 Glasgow, ........ James Maclehose. 
 
THE 
 
 JEPHTHA AND BAPTIST, 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE BUCHANAN 
 
 TRANSLATED BY ALEXANDER GIBB. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 J. MOODIE MILLER, LINDSAY PLACE. 
 
 1870. 
 
^:o: : 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The two sacred dramas of Buchanan — the " Jephtha" 
 and the "Baptist" — are worthy of being better 
 known to the lovers of Hterature, especially amongst 
 Scotchmen, than they have hitherto been. Their 
 author, as a scholar and man of genius, is an honour 
 to his country ; and in the opinion of illustrious 
 critics like Henry Stephens* and the Scaligers,t 
 his poetical merits are of a distinguished order. 
 These tragedies bear the impress of the age in which 
 they were produced, the important era of the Re- 
 
 * Henry Stephens styles Buchanan "Poetarum sui seculi facile 
 princeps." 
 
 t Joseph Scaliger says, in the Scaligerana, " Buchanan is the 
 one man in all Europe who has excelled all others in Latin 
 poesy." 
 
 Montaigne, in his famous essay, " De Tlnstitution des En- 
 fants," speaks of him as " Georges Buchanan, ce grand poete 
 Escossois." 
 
6 Preface. 
 
 formation, wherein were laid the foundations of our 
 civil and religious liberties. The "Baptist" is spe- 
 cially connected with the poet's personal history, 
 having been written within two years after his escape 
 from a prison in Scotland in 1539, and while he still 
 dreaded the rancour of Cardinal Beaton, whom some 
 suppose to be depicted under the character of Malchus. 
 Both were composed for the use of the students at- 
 tending the College of Guienne at Bordeaux, in which 
 Buchanan was a regent. 
 
 In rendering these works into EngHsh, the trans- 
 lator has attempted to give the thoughts and style of 
 the writer as literally as he was able. In the revision 
 of the text he has been indebted to a friend, whom he 
 regrets lie is not at liberty to name, for many sug- 
 gestions. 
 
 Buchanan's dramatic works, together with his life, 
 
 are now issued to the public, m the hope of making 
 
 somewhat better known the poems, character, and 
 
 deeds of one who has been widely and highly 
 
 admired as a Latin writer ; who suffered much for 
 
 conscience sake, and amidst great privations and 
 
 severe persecution witnessed steadfastly for what he 
 
 esteemed the truth. 
 
 THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
JEPHTHA: OR. THE VOW. 
 

 
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 TO 
 A NOBLEMAN MOST ILLUSTRIOUS, 
 
 CHARLES DE COSSE, 
 
 MARSHAL OF FRANCE, AND GOVERNOR OF THE PIEDMONTESE 
 FOR THE KING OF THE FRENCH. 
 
 Some will perhaps think I act absurdly in dedicating 
 this little work to you, who, from an early age, have 
 made the art of war your study, and have always 
 been occupied among arms and trumpets; but this 
 idea will be entertained, for the most part, either 
 by those who do not sufficiently attend to the har- 
 monious nature of these studies, or by those who do 
 not know your natural disposition. For there is no 
 discord, as is commonly but erroneously supposed, 
 between the study of the art of war and of letters ; 
 but rather the greatest concord, and a certain secret 
 
JO .'':''•, :DEDlCATIOy. 
 
 natural congruity. For though at some former time 
 
 the professions were divided, whether that were done 
 
 through men's indolence or some false notion, yet 
 
 never could the perverse opinion of the ignorant 
 
 obtain so great a sway that they could forget the 
 
 ancient and natural relationship between them. For 
 
 all great commanders in all ages, who have performed 
 
 illustrious actions, have either been themselves very 
 
 learned men, or have cherished with the greatest 
 
 affection men distinguished for learning. Nor truly 
 
 is it possible that a great and lofty spirit, who, 
 
 neglecting the transitory and the perishable, has set 
 
 before his eyes the remembrance of eternity, should 
 
 not also love learning, which is the guardian of 
 
 remembrance and of antiquity. And few there are 
 
 who hate and despise letters, save those who, on 
 
 account of a life ignominiously spent in sloth and 
 
 profligacy, fear the knowledge of posterity : as Clau- 
 
 dian has written, it seems to me, with not less truth 
 
 than elegance — 
 
 Gaudet enim Virtus testes sibi junj^ere Musas ; 
 Carmen amat quisquis carmine digna gerit.* 
 
 * Virtuous excellence is delighted when the Muses bear witness 
 to its worth ; 
 Whoever performs actions worthy of song, loves song. 
 
Dedica TION. 1 1 
 
 But, on the other hand, with how great a joy may 
 we suppose will they be seized, who have made it 
 their whole study to set before themselves an image 
 of perfect virtue for their imitation, 
 
 et quae natura negavit 
 
 Visibus humanis, oculis ea pectoris haurirent,* 
 
 if they shall have been able to obtain the living and 
 breathing picture (so to speak) of what they so eagerly 
 pursue % But besides this mutual admiration of their 
 worth and harmony of nature, of which I have spoken, 
 there is to be added even a certain kind of mutual 
 advantage. For as, on the one hand, the doer of 
 illustrious actions, not undeservedly, honours the 
 man, whom he perceives capable of handing down 
 his virtues to posterity, and able by artistic skill to 
 render them illustrious ; and as he cherishes him as 
 a parent, — not the parent from whom he has received 
 that brief loan of life which we enjoy, but that other 
 and far longer life which lies in the remembrance of 
 posterity : so he also himself, on the other hand, 
 gladly embraces the harvest and material of his own 
 glory, when so presented to him, 
 
 * To drink in with the eyes of the mind what nature has 
 denied to human sis:ht. 
 
1 2 Dedica tion. 
 
 qua se quoque possit 
 
 Tollere liunio, victorque virum volitare per oia.* 
 
 And although in the estimation of men the gain is 
 very unequal, yet each, with equal eagerness, seeks 
 returns from the same farm of glory. But what I have 
 hitherto said is applicable to all, wJw (as Sallust says) 
 seek the fame of noble deed or liberal act. But what I 
 am now to say is proper to you alone ; that even from 
 the earliest period of youth you have been so dear to 
 your country, so brave in war, so just and moderate 
 in peace, that you have afforded a pattern of virtue 
 to all who cultivate letters, which they both can and 
 ought to set before posterity for its imitation ; that 
 you, although in a different walk of life, have under- 
 taken the encouragement and protection of letters, 
 when deprived of the patronage of your brother, 
 Philip de Cosse, bishop of Constance ; that you 
 always retain in your company the most learned 
 men, with whom, even amidst the excitement of a 
 
 most cruel war, 
 
 Musis que Minervam 
 
 Temperes, et Geticum modereris ApoUine Martem ;t 
 
 * Whereby he also may rise from the ground, and fly a victor 
 on the lips of men. 
 
 + Mingle Minerva with the Muses, and by Apollo moderate 
 the fury of the Getic Mars. 
 
Dedication. 13 
 
 that you have taken so much pains in the education 
 of your young son, that he might be able not only to 
 preserve the heritage of glory which he has received 
 from his parent, though that be so ample, but even to 
 increase it. You have also encouraged me, when I 
 was at a distance, and only known to you by the 
 recommendation of learning, with so many offices of 
 politeness and liberality, that if there be any fruit of 
 my genius, any birth of my vigils as it were, it ought 
 deservedly to return to you. And this, indeed, my 
 Jephtha so eagerly does, that he who formerly feared 
 the public light and concourse of men, now goes forth 
 relying on your patronage, and even cherishes some 
 hope of the public favour. For what may he not 
 hope for under such auspices, when he has already 
 seen under them military discipline reformed to the 
 pattern of ancient strictness, and the former glory of 
 France in war restored, — when he beholds regard 
 for laws and justice combined with soldierly valour ; 
 and the greatest moderation, united with the most 
 unlimited authority, in everything ; and this, not only 
 on the part of yourself, but on that of all who are 
 under your command? Influenced by these con- 
 siderations, I was very desirous that my little work 
 should go forth to the world under your name. And 
 
14 Dedicatiox. 
 
 you, I trust (according to your wonted politeness and 
 love of letters), will take it in good part, whether as a 
 token of kindness to me, or of my goodwill towards 
 you. Farewell. 
 
 At Paris, 2Zth Jtily 1554. 
 
argument. 
 
 BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 An Angel in the Prologue discourses of God's moral govern- 
 ment of His people, and His purpose to humble Jephtha by 
 means of his rash vow. 
 
 Scene I. Storge and Iphis, mother and daughter, come forth 
 in the morning, the former troubled on account of a dream, the 
 latter tries to reassure her. 
 
 Scene II. The Chorus relates God's former salvation of His 
 people, and implores His aid now. 
 
 Scene III. A messenger arrives from the field of battle, and 
 describes the victory. 
 
 Scene IV. The Chorus exults over the victory, and calls on 
 Iphis to go and meet her father. 
 
 Scene V. Jephtha, drawing near home, praises God for giving 
 him the victory, and asks Him graciously to accept his offering. 
 
 Scene VI. Iphis meets her father, who, through grief on 
 account of his rash vow, seems stem to her. She converses witli 
 
1 6 Argument. 
 
 him respecting his altered manner. Symmachus, a friend of 
 Jephtha, promises to find out the cause of his friend's harsh- 
 ness to his daughter. 
 
 Scene VII. The Chorus wishes Symmachus success in his 
 undertaking, and denounces the maUce which creates evil 
 rumours. 
 
 Scene VIII. Symmachus tries to dissuade Jephtha from 
 sacrificing his daughter, but without success. 
 
 Scene IX. The Chorus resolves to tell the mother and 
 daughter all : laments the misery of the father, the unhappy 
 fate of the daughter, and the common lot of men. 
 
 Scene X. A priest attempts to convince Jephtha, that his 
 vow, being contrary to nature and the divine law, is not binding, 
 but in vain. 
 
 Scene XI. The Chorus grieves over the sad change which 
 has come upon the family of Jephtha, and the uncertainty which 
 attends human life. 
 
 Scene XII. Storge, Jephtha's wife, reproaches him for his 
 cruelty, but Iphis, believing that the vow has been the cause of 
 the victory, voluntarily offers to die. 
 
 Scene XIII. The Chorus praises the heroic courage of Iphis, 
 and declares that she will ever be remembered for her self- 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Scene XIV. A messenger relates to Storge the manner of 
 her daughter's death. 
 
Persons. 
 
 An Angel. Prologue. 
 Storge, the Mother. 
 I PHIS, the Daughter. 
 Chorus of Native Dajnsds. 
 Jephtha, the Commatider. 
 Symmachus, a Friend. 
 A Priest. 
 A Afessenjrer. 
 

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 ^!je px'ologuc. 
 
 ^7V^ ANGEL. 
 
 Of the great Thunderer, celestial sire, 
 
 A winged messenger, from heav'n I 'm come 
 
 To Isaac's house, unto the land of old 
 
 Promised to Isaac's seed, a land ordain'd 
 
 To rule the nations, if she had observed 
 
 Inviolate the sacred covenant ; 
 
 But which has late cower'd under Ammon's arms, 
 
 Beneath the grinding yoke of slavery. 
 
 And has endured whate'er of sad, fell, fierce. 
 
 An angry victor dares, the vanquish'd dreads. 
 
 By this disaster crush'd, the rebel race 
 
 Have scarce begun to own their father's God 
 
 To know their wicked rites a mock'ry false 
 
20 Jephtha. 
 
 Of heaven, when scann'd, and when known to de- 
 spise ; 
 And to their father have return'd though late. 
 But ill the human mind knows to observe 
 The golden mean — it swells in high success. 
 The more God's goodness hath bestow'd on men, 
 The more security obscures their minds, 
 Which, swoll'n with empty haughtiness, vain pride 
 Greatly excites. As wanton stubbornness 
 In a fierce steed against his master raves, 
 If he perceive the rule the least remiss ; 
 And scarce at last he, by the bit subdued, 
 And bloody with the cruel spur, again 
 Returns to duty, and his lord obeys. 
 So do this wayward people, stiff of neck, 
 Prone to the worse, if for a while the lash 
 Hath lain at rest, adopt once more new gods, 
 And give themselves to other rites, and follow 
 A strange religion. So their heav'nly sire 
 Benign subdues their minds through licence swoll'n, 
 By war, or famine, or plague-laden air, 
 And checks their rebel fierceness. But again, 
 Lest a confiding trust of spirit die. 
 By finked ills continually o'erwhelm'd, 
 He sends them prophets, warlike leaders sends, 
 
JePHTHA. 2 £ 
 
 To bring them back anew delivered 
 From the hard bonds of bitter servitude, 
 x\nd force them to observe their former rites. 
 As now the arms of Ammon he hath roused 
 Against them rebels, God's commands forsaking, 
 Selling themselves to errors impious. 
 But he, appeased, hath to anger bounds 
 Appointed, and a great deliverer given ; 
 Not from the number of the potent chiefs, 
 Weighty with client crowd, or swoH'n with sons ; 
 But Jephtha exiled from his father's house, 
 Spurn'd of his brethren, born of mother base ; 
 Lest the proud race to their owm arms assign 
 What has been done by the right hand of God ; 
 And that the Ammonite may also learn 
 He hath not thus far greatly flourished 
 In his own strength ; but only to avenge 
 Celestial anger. More, lest even Jephtha 
 Measure himself by issue of this fight, 
 And in a prosperous state swell insolent. 
 He '11 be forthwith o'erwhelm'd by loss at home. 
 His haughty, stubborn, spirit break and yield. 
 For when against the treach'rous enemies 
 He arms assumed, he promised to give, 
 If prosperous event of war were given. 
 
2 2 JePIITHA. 
 
 As victim to the altar, that which first 
 
 Came forth to meet him on his safe return. 
 
 Ah ! what a weight of ill hangs over thee, 
 
 Thou miserable man ! With griefs how great 
 
 Wilt thou be overwhelm'd ! How the fond hope 
 
 Of nearing joy deceives thee credulous ! 
 
 Thy daughter, thy sole offspring, who preserves 
 
 For thee the house and lineage of thy sires, 
 
 Will first present herself to meet her parent, 
 
 To greet the prosp'rous issue of his arms. 
 
 And with great interest she soon will pay, — 
 
 She, wretched, with her life will expiate 
 
 Too early joy of longed-for happiness. 
 
 And lo ! the mother sad comes from the house, 
 
 Whom all the live-long night a horror dread 
 
 Of dreams hath terrified ; with whom her daughter 
 
 Comes as companion, bearing on them both 
 
 Anxiety of soul, in grief of looks, 
 
 In gestures, and in silence. 
 
^cene jfir^t. 
 
 STORGE AND I PHIS, 
 
 STORGE. 
 Alas ! my heart with recent terror throbs, 
 My mind is horror-struck, my trembhng voice 
 Cleaves to my very jaws, nor do my Ups 
 Afford a pervious pathway to my words ; 
 Me wretched thus nocturnal visions scare, 
 And direful dreams disturb my broken rest, 
 And burn my anxious breast with heavy cares. 
 But thou, O highest Ruler of the heav'n 
 Resplendent, on our enemies direct 
 The sad funereal omen, gracious be 
 To me, and to my daughter, who remains 
 Sole hope, and consolation of her race, 
 The only joy and pillar of mine age. 
 
24 Jephtha. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Presage more joyfully, my mother dear, 
 Throw off the source of vain anxiety \ 
 These mock'ries of the troubled mind despise 
 Without concern, and when despised, forget. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Oh that I could ! but fear, as if afresh. 
 
 As oft as I remember, shakes my breast 
 
 With dread, and th' image of that saddest dream 
 
 Flits through my mind ; my breast with horror 
 
 shrinks. 
 When now bland quiet had laid all to rest, 
 And night had led in silence, mute, and still : 
 I saw a pack of wolves in full career, 
 AVith bloody, foaming, rabid jaws, and fierce 
 With crooked claws, with headlong onset rusli 
 On the unwarlike flock, the shepherds gone. 
 Whereon a dog, with trusty guardianship 
 Of timid fold, drove off the wolves, and when 
 Anew return'd to the weak flock, as yet 
 Half dead with memory of trembling fear, 
 He from my bosom pluck'd a timid lamb, 
 And tore with bloody teeth. 
 O sun, O wandering light of the moon. 
 
Jephtha. 25 
 
 And ye stars painted on a silent world, 
 And thou, night, conscious of my care, 
 Dreams bringing in with dusky wings, 
 If aught o'erhangs my wretched child, 
 If any harm the fates her threaten, 
 First down to miserable hell 
 This head thrust, while ambiguous hopes, 
 With cares alternating, torment 
 My bosom of her loss uncertain. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Why dost thou wretchedly torment thy mind, 
 
 Mother, and with private grief 
 
 Augment the public woe, 
 
 And bitter cares renew ? 
 
 Rather, complaints dismiss'd. 
 
 With joyful gratulations, welcome back 
 
 My father coming home. 
 
 For he will soon be here 
 
 (Unless with vainest augury the mind 
 
 The breast too credulous deceives), 
 
 Renowned with the spoils of victor^'. 
 
 And bringing to his country and his race 
 
 Riches, and praise, and honour without end. 
 
id Jephtha. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Not such the tenor of the life that fate 
 
 Has upon me bestow'd. What time hath e'er 
 
 Lack'd tears for me, since from my parent's 
 
 womb 
 I first came forth ? At first my youth beheld 
 The slav'ry of my country, and sad threats 
 Of hostile armies, herds of cattle reft, 
 The soil uncultivated barren grown. 
 Blood, slaughter, devastation, rapine, fire, 
 Profane and sacred mingled. Ne'er for me 
 Hath any part of life unanxious flow'd ; 
 As wave thrusts onward wave, as billow yields 
 To billow following, as day chases day ; 
 wSo always past are press'd by newer ills ; 
 Grief, griefs companion is, and woe to woe ; 
 War's rage struck down my father and my brother; 
 Worn out with cares my mother waxed old, 
 'Mid burials of her kin ; my husband now 
 Is pressing on a faithless foe with arms, — 
 Still my soul dreads a worse calamity. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Immoderate fear an easy credit gives 
 To omens of disaster. 
 
Jephtha. 27 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Oh that I 
 Might only hear, on happy rumour borne, 
 The tidings of my husband home return'd. 
 The army safe, and safe my family. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 My father certainly will safe return ; 
 
 For the same God, who first advised the war, 
 
 Will bring him back, and with new praises laden. 
 
^tmz ^ttont. 
 
 C HO R US. 
 
 Jordan, that waterest with glassy waves 
 
 Green valleys, and divid'st with languid flood 
 
 The fertile pasture-lands of Israel, 
 
 And thou, fair grove on palm-clad Solyma, 
 
 With crown of leaves ne'er shed in winter's frosts, 
 
 Lo ! shall the bright morn star that leads the 
 
 light 
 E'er bring to me, now sunk in misery, 
 That happy day, when I, devoid of cares, 
 Shall, free myself, behold my country free, 
 Which now the bonds of barb'rous servitude 
 Hapless endures. Now noble Isaac's blood 
 Bears the sad yoke of a degenerate lord ; 
 Whom not the proud king of the Pharian* land 
 * Pharos, Egypt ; Pharian, Egyptian. 
 
Jephtha. . 29 
 
 Urging his scythe-arm'd axles could affright, 
 
 Nor ruthless cruelty of purple strait 
 
 O'erwhelm beneath her refluent tide of waves, 
 
 Nor Arab deserts, which no ploughshare know. 
 
 Nor men portentous, of Cyclopia size, 
 
 Could break : we're now the slaves of timid Ammon. 
 
 The ignominy is worse than the ill, 
 
 'Neath a base lord to bear the sluggish yoke. 
 
 But thou, O Mighty Parent, who allay'st 
 
 The troubled deep, who by the cloudy blasts 
 
 Of Caurus * rousest up the swelling waves 
 
 Of the calm sea, — who by dire tremors shak'st 
 
 The firm foundations of the stable earth, — 
 
 Who stayest at thy will the headlong flight 
 
 Of gliding heaven, — oh, satisfied at length 
 
 With our misfortunes, cease thine ire, 
 
 Kind and propitious, now send grace 
 
 To thine afflicted, wearied race. 
 
 If heavy punishment our fault should pay. 
 
 If thou entirely cast'st away 
 
 The lot once set apart to thee, 
 
 If hostile to our vices, 
 
 Thou utterly forsak'st 
 
 Thy disobedient sons ; 
 
 * Caurus, the north-west wind. 
 
30 . Jephtha. 
 
 If with inexpiable ire 
 
 Thou scorn'st the tears and sad complaints 
 
 Of thine own people once well loved : 
 
 Let not the Syrian, let not Amnion dire, 
 
 Nor threatening Pharos' haughty lord 
 
 Exact the punishment for thee. 
 
 Nor let the heathen's sword 
 
 In thy towers ever sway ; 
 
 Rather thyself, thy right hand arm'd 
 
 With javelins dread of three-fork'd fire, 
 
 With torches of avenging flame, 
 
 O'erwhelm the cities insolent ; 
 
 Or let the yawning earth devour 
 
 Her miserable husbandmen, 
 
 Or submerged in flooding waves, 
 
 Drag them down to sudden graves. 
 
 Lest the fierce foe, the people who mute stocks 
 
 And stones adore, who with unhallow'd rites 
 
 Thy services pollute, in high estate 
 
 Swell with vain pride ; 
 
 Lest what thine anger hath against us done, 
 
 Ammon to his own praise turn, while he seeks 
 
 With incense to appease his images 
 
 Of rotten wood ; 
 
 Lest he with frantic lip deny that thou, 
 
Jephtha. 3 
 
 When he assailed, couldst the people save, 
 
 Who through all ages have been bound to thee. 
 
 Ah, wretched foe ! how sore a weeping soon 
 
 That laughter brief shall bring ; 
 
 That shortdived joy thou shalt atone for 
 
 With long tears ; hitherward on rapid wing 
 
 Flies the light hour ; the time, the time is near 
 
 (Unless with empty hope the seer 
 
 Appearance false beguiles), 
 
 When thou in turn our victor stern 
 
 Shalt the ills of slavery learn. 
 
 For thou wilt not for ever 
 
 Suffer thy saint's blood unavenged to flow 
 
 Thus, pour'd out lavish by the ruthless foe, 
 
 Nor to unhallow'd rites 
 
 Thy holy altars give. 
 
 Oh may my life extend, 
 
 Till worshipping thee in our father's rites, 
 
 With grateful bosoms, mindful, we 
 
 Sing a glad song of praise. 
 
 But lo ! a messenger with hasty step 
 
 Comes hitherward. Unless my mind 's deceived. 
 
 He from the army comes. 
 
 I know the messenger, — 'tis so ; 
 
 The news he brings I would be glad to know. 
 
»)ccne (Efjird* 
 
 MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 All hail ! ye daughters of old Abraham ! 
 The holy offspring of a parent holy. 
 Is this the house of Jephtha, our commander ? 
 Or has blind error led me from the way, 
 While of it doubtful ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 This is Jephtha's house, 
 And more, this is his daughter. But what hope 
 Bringest thou back ? tell us, if time permit. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 The very thing that I am sent to tell. 
 The en'my has been routed, and is fled ; 
 
Jephtha. h 
 
 Victory, wealth, and honour have been won ; 
 The army 's safe. My news amount to this, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 How much hast thou comprised in few words ! 
 But say first, bring you what was heard or seen ? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Seen, done, truths, certainties, the news I bring, 
 Not tales of empty rumour gathered ; 
 For of the battle I was part myself. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Relate it fully to us. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Willingly 
 I shall impart the gladsome news to you. 
 When first Aurora with her rosy light 
 Suffused the heavens, impatient of delay, 
 Ammon had far and wide the plain o'erflow'd 
 With horse and men, and the much dreaded roar 
 Of warlike chariots \ now in ranks array'd 
 The legion of the foot by cohorts stood. 
 Shining in brass and iron ; on their front 
 
34 Jephtha. 
 
 The troops of war-cars, with keen curved scythes, 
 
 Drove menacing ; on either side, the horse 
 
 Had pour'd them on the wings ; but our host held 
 
 The lowest hills that end the open plain ; 
 
 Not grim with arms, nor warlike equipage, 
 
 But having hearts that on Heav'n's faith relied, 
 
 And courage to avenge our quarrel just. 
 
 There 'twixt the armies our commander sends 
 
 A herald, and attempts to end the war, 
 
 By right, and just conditions, without blood : 
 
 That either people should remain content 
 
 Within the limits of their ancient fields, 
 
 Abstain from wrong and vi'lence to the other, 
 
 Stolen goods restore to owners, and prefer 
 
 To warfare, peace ; to doubtful, certain gain. 
 
 On th' other hand, the haughty enemy, 
 
 Proud in his force of soldiers, confident 
 
 In arms, upbraids the herald fierce, and adds, 
 
 In bitter threat'nings, baseless calumny : 
 
 That by a pure, and pious war he seeks 
 
 His ancient fields, from which afore the race 
 
 Of Isaac, when they went forth from the bounds 
 
 Of the Nilotic land, by force and arms 
 
 Had driven the Ammonites. Which if they still 
 
 Persist to keep, and to defend the wrong 
 
Jephtha. 35 
 
 By arms, and war prefer to rendering back 
 What they by violence injurious seized, 
 That the avenging gods would not be wanting 
 To those who seek for justice, and for right ; 
 But if the Solymaean race prefer 
 To leave through right, what they by force acquired, 
 And of their own accord the limits leave, 
 Which bord'ring Arnon and the Jabbok end. 
 Whence utmost solitude drives in the fields, 
 As far as Jordan's gently flowing streams, 
 That they are ready to make peace on just 
 Conditions ; and made, righteously to keep 
 For the advantage of the nations twain. 
 When this report the herald has brought back, 
 Jephtha bids him forthwith return and say : 
 That neither they, nor their progenitors 
 Had injury e'er done, by force or fraud, 
 To the Ammonian people ; that the fields. 
 Which now he seeks, were never in the bounds 
 Of Ammon, which, for now three hundred years, 
 The seed of Jacob have unchallenged held ; 
 Nor e'er meanwhile was any mention made 
 Of doubtful right, in earnest or in jest ; 
 Save this, perchance, that they, of right, should yield 
 To thee what thy god, Chemosh, has possess'd ; 
 
36 Jephtha. 
 
 But that the lands which our God has possess'd, 
 He should desert them. He will not desert them; 
 But as he formerly victorious took 
 Thy en'mies' lands, the same just judge will now 
 Give favourable issue to this battle, 
 Ev'n as justice and as right demand. 
 When this response the herald has return'd. 
 The clangour of the hoarse brass beats the air, 
 The shouts of men, the crash of arms resound, 
 The noise of horses, and the creak of cars ; 
 Rebellows heaven, and the broken earth 
 Upon her axis groans ; the mountains double 
 The repercussed sound. Each for himself 
 Contends what bravery can, what skill can do ; 
 He strikes, is struck ; he is pursued, pursues ; 
 The brooks are changed to blood; with a dense night 
 A cloud of dust obscures the heavy sky ; 
 Bold Ammon presses fierce, in numbers great; 
 Confiding trust in heaven, and juster cause, 
 Give to our men an equal dauntless heart. 
 While neither yields, while either line moves on. 
 Behold amid the shadows of the dust, 
 'Mid groans and lamentations of the faUing, 
 And exclamations of encouragement. 
 The cloud withdraws, and the clear day shines forth, 
 
Jephtha. 37 
 
 A thunder peal from heaven fills either host, 
 An humbling fear dismays the minds of all, 
 Numb grow the hands that hold the languid swords, 
 And icy rigour binds the sluggish joints. 
 Then with a mighty voice, and cheerful look, 
 Our leader, " Thee, Parent of all, our Guide, 
 We follow, and thine angel. God, 'tis God 
 O'erwhelmeth with these flames the hostile ranks ; 
 And all the sky with fiery squadrons shines." 
 When this cry had pervaded either host. 
 The one rush'd madly into panic flight. 
 The other presses on, with strength renew'd, 
 Against the timid foe ; nor ceased those 
 To flee, nor these to follow, till the night. 
 With cloudy darkness black, has given to them 
 Safe lurking-places, to our soldiers rest. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Why brings not then the victor back his force? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Stay, you 've not yet the whole course of the war. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Perchance the foe comes on with strength renew'd ? 
 
o 
 
 8 Jephtha. 
 
 messenger. 
 Yes, if, indeed, the dead resume new strength ; 
 For all the power of that perfidious race 
 God gather'd in one battle, to cut down. 
 Therefore the foes in heaps of corses hold 
 The places where they stood, or through the fields, 
 In lurid carnage spread, the vultures feed. 
 And lest anew another war should rise. 
 Our leader has look'd forward many years, 
 Provident of the future, and has won 
 Peace even to posterity remote. 
 The victor quickly has transferred his arms 
 'Gainst every name of Ammon ; twice ten towns 
 Has overthrown, their walls cast to the ground ; 
 The houses burn'd, given up the males to death ; 
 Laid waste the fields ; till only weak old men. 
 And tender children, and unwarlike women, 
 Now wander over the deserted soil, 
 And the misfortunes of their country mourn. 
 
^tmz ifourtlj^ 
 
 CI/OJ? c/s. 
 
 Chief of the golden light, O sun ! 
 Who nilest, in thy rapid course, 
 The swift returns of day and night ; 
 Flame-bearer, who with wandering fire 
 Partest the seasons to the world ; 
 At last, when lustres four are gone, 
 A blessed sunbeam thou hast pour'd 
 On Isaac's sons, at length set free 
 From the woes of slavery. 
 Jephtha's potent arm hath broke 
 The luckless onslaught of the foe, 
 O'erweening in his pride, hath bruised 
 Ammon's fierce spirit, wrought dismay- 
 Now the robber is the prey. 
 What avail'd, in that dread hour, 
 
40 Jephtha. 
 
 From the Scythian string, to shower 
 The wingbd shafts, or rush amain 
 Of chariots hurrying o'er the plain, 
 Threatening with recurved scythes ? 
 What the might of horses then, 
 Or phalanx dense of valiant men, 
 
 To shield or save, 
 When God press'd on the foe, and them 
 
 To slaughter gave ? 
 Learn, ye faithless, now; now own, 
 God is neither wood, nor stone ; 
 Nor what artist's cunning hand 
 Sculptures with an iron tool ; 
 Nor potter's facile fingers may, 
 When he in the moisten'd clay 
 Feigns the countenance of man; 
 Not so, our God dwells on high. 
 In fiery bulwarks of the sky, 
 Author of all and safety he, 
 Omnipotent in majesty; 
 Nor is he easy to be seen. 
 Nor docile to a mortal hand. 
 To draw his certain image. 
 He, the frantic pride of kings 
 Curbs, and, just, to ill end brings 
 
Jephtha. 41 
 
 Their impious vows, and hopes too great, 
 
 Of a much exalted state ; 
 
 He the just and harmless breast 
 
 Succours, when with griefs oppress'd ; 
 
 He Hfts the poor man from the dust, 
 
 Who kept the olid flock before. 
 
 He to the golden sceptre brings. 
 
 And decks the brows of shepherds with 
 
 Precious diadems of kings. 
 
 Him, its Lord and God alone, 
 
 Let earth's daedalian fabric own, 
 
 Beneath whatever day it lie, 
 
 Worship, and serve, and love continually : 
 
 That, which lying beneath his rays. 
 
 The orient sun strikes with new beams. 
 
 That, where at the noonday height, 
 
 He kindles with his nearer flames ; 
 
 He who drinks the Tagus 
 
 Noble with tawny flow, 
 
 And he who lives m tracts condemn'd 
 
 To everlasting snow. 
 
 Ho ! ye Hebrew maidens, 
 
 Your necks with golden beads adorn, 
 
 With ambrosia wet your locks, 
 
 Fragrant odours scatt'ring sweet. 
 
42 Jephtha. 
 
 Ho ! ye Hebrew maidens, 
 
 Deck your brows with Indian gems, 
 
 Scatter flowers, far and wide, 
 
 Many hued, to greet the happy hours. 
 
 Cease the tinkUng cymbals, 
 
 Cease the lutes and cease the lyres, 
 
 New songs to render, meet 
 
 For our Lord and victor sire ! 
 
 Wherefore lies unbreathed and mute 
 
 The soft and many-stopped flute ? 
 
 Who trips the earth with lightsome foot ? 
 
 And gay in festal ease, 
 
 In our gentle companies 
 
 Softens bitter cares ? 
 
 The leader of the flock shall, with his blood, 
 
 A sacrifice the festal altars stain ; 
 
 And clouds of incense smelling sweet. 
 
 Perfumes of the Arabian land. 
 
 The fire shall breathe out to the air, 
 
 And abroad the breezes bear. 
 
 But thou, the offspring of our chief, 
 
 The blooming hope of a great race. 
 
 Thy splendid garments take to thee, 
 
 My daughter, and within thy pious arms 
 
 Joyful thy sire, return'd, embrace. 
 
Jephtha. 43 
 
 Now Iphis, now thy purple robes 
 
 Assume, and now restrain 
 
 The braided tresses of thy hair ; 
 
 For lo ! the sound of men strikes on the ear, 
 
 'Tis he, 'tis he, thy father now is near. 
 
^ceiie fiftlj. 
 
 J EPHTHA. 
 
 Sole Ruler of the world, the one true God, 
 
 The only God, propitious, potent, great, 
 
 Severe avenger, and a Father mild. 
 
 Severe, and dreadful to thine enemies, 
 
 Gentle, and safety bringing to thy friends, 
 
 Of anger dreadful, yet to be appeased. 
 
 Burning with love, yet to be roused to wrath. 
 
 Us the just ills of slav'ry have oppress'd, 
 
 We impious, unto impious men have paid 
 
 Deserved punishment, who thee forsook. 
 
 Our king, our patron, our defender, God, 
 
 Parent of all, fount of perennial good. 
 
 And to mute stones have pour'd our foolish prayers, 
 
 And to deaf wood have made our empty vows ; 
 
Jephtha, 45 
 
 It is a shame to own it ; man possess'd 
 Of mind eternal, and who reason owns, 
 FooHsh, adores a trunk of mind devoid, 
 Living, bestows frankincense on the dead, 
 The workman fears the work of his own hands. 
 We, therefore, who forsook, have been forsaken ; 
 Subdued, and crush'd by evils, we have paid 
 Deserved punishment ; since Edom now, 
 Now Palestinian bands, now Ammon dire, 
 And now the Syrian stern, pollute the lot 
 And the inheritance thy people won. 
 But thou, a God benign, and merciful, 
 Curbest thy righteous fury, and remitt'st 
 Thine anger just, and mild forgett'st thy hate ; 
 And in thy mercy, thou restor'st again 
 The sons disowned for their guiltiness. 
 And as if 'twere too little to forgive 
 Their infamous revolt, thou on them heap'st 
 New triumphs, praises, honours, victory : 
 Casting away his arms, the fainting foe 
 Hath fled, with bow relax' d ; o'er all the plain 
 The corses scatter'd stay the war-cars' flight ; 
 Who haughty, chains prepared for Solyma, 
 Now feeds the ravens ; havoc taints the fields. 
 And foreign blood augments the swollen waves. 
 
46 Jephtha. 
 
 We, therefore, O Creator of the world. 
 
 And mighty arbiter, with grateful hearts, 
 
 And mindful, gladly render thanks to thee ; 
 
 We have, and at thine altars suppliant, 
 
 Will victims offer in our fathers' rites, 
 
 Thee praising, God and Father of our fathers. 
 
 Who through the swoll'n abyss of the Red Sea 
 
 To our forefathers gavest passage safe ; 
 
 When at thy word the water's sluggish mass 
 
 Surceased its tempests, and the mobile flood 
 
 Stood still, its course restrain'd, on either side 
 
 Hung in a crystal wall the glassy deep, 
 
 For them commanded to afford a way. 
 
 Be mindful of thy covenant, benign 
 
 Receive, and graciously, thy servant's vow, 
 
 Though small, yet proffer'd from a grateful heart. 
 
 And lately due to thee. Whatever first 
 
 Shall run to meet me, safe returned home, 
 
 That shall a grateful victim, with its blood. 
 
 Thine altars stain ; though with thy benefits 
 
 No victim can be able to compare. 
 
 But thou receivest graciously the gifts. 
 
 Which from a thankful, mindful heart proceed ; 
 
 As faithfully thou pay'st thy promises, 
 
 So thou delight'st that vows be faithful paid. 
 
Jephtha. 47 
 
 Towards the rebels putting forth thy strength, 
 
 Towards the fearful mercy putting forth ; 
 
 Nor is there surely any other power, 
 
 Which heaven, and earth, and realms of hell obey. 
 
^C0ne »)Ut|). 
 
 I PHIS, JEPHTHA, SYMMACHUS, CHORUS. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 Now forth I go ; oh with how great a joy 
 I see the face of my returned parent ! 
 O father, to be reverenced next to God, 
 Allow me to enjoy thy dear embrace. 
 Father, why dost thou from me turn away 
 Thine eyes, so sad and stern ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Wretch that I am I 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 God turn this omen on our enemies ! 
 
Jephtiia. 49 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Oh that he would ! but it recoils on us 
 With deadliest stroke. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Alas ; what do I hear ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 The wretched parent of a wretched daughter. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Woe 's me ! I tremble. Is the army safe ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 'Tis safe. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 And thou the conqueror ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 • Tis so. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Thy body bloody with no wound ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 1 IS so 
 
 D 
 
50 Jephtiia. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Then wherefore dost thou groan and secret sighs 
 Draw from the deep recesses of thy breast ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 That for the present time thou need'st not know. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Woe 's me ! In what have I unhappy sinn'd 
 Against thee, father? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Thou in nought hast sinn'd ; 
 Thy father has 'gainst thee unhappy sinn'd. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 'Gainst me indeed, so far as to me known, 
 
 There has no wrong been done ; nor though there 
 
 had, 
 Should that distress thee. Children needs must bear, 
 With patient mind, parental injuries. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 W^isely thou speak'st, my daughter, as becomes 
 thee, 
 
Jephtha. 51 
 
 And yet so much the wiser thou dost speak, 
 Thou stabb'st my bosom with the deeper wound. 
 
 « 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Whatever 'tis that preys upon thy mind, 
 Dismiss it, father ; nor by thy grief spoil 
 The joys thou'st won for all the citizens ; 
 And let thine eager friends enjoy thy presence. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 This presence absence will beget for us. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Perchance war's perils call thee forth again ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 A hazard worse than arms impends at home. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Can there at home be peril worse than war ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Safety I found in war, at home I 've perish'd. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Truly thou'st saved thy country, and thy house. 
 
52 Jephtha. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Ay, but for that I yet owe thanks to God. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Oh may'st thou ahvays owe on such account ! 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Nay, but I fear they will not long be safe. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Now therefore, father, when prosperity 
 
 Is at the height, behoves us both to pray 
 
 And render vows ; not, when the fickle breath 
 
 Of fortune thwarts, to flatter Heav'n with prayers ; 
 
 Then with oblivious negligence desert 
 
 His rites, when prosperous. Whoever, safe, 
 
 Has sought to win God's favour, when assail'd 
 
 By stern adversity, upon the fruit 
 
 Of a good conscience stay'd, more boldly dares 
 
 Ask Heav'n already of itself propitious ; 
 
 With a securer heart he makes his vows, 
 
 And waits the future with a surer hope. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 That 's just the thing I 'm pond'ring now to do.. 
 
Jephtha. 53 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 What hinders thee ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Daughter, to my care leave 
 Such things as these ; and reckon thou thy care 
 Is what beseems the years and minds of damsels. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 To me nought alien is, that doth concern 
 My father. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 I confess that that is so. 
 But meanwhile see that all is well at home ; 
 And, courteous, gratify thy father. 
 Hither return after a little while. 
 For it behoves that thou imm.ediately 
 Be present at a sacrifice to God. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 It shall be so. I soon return. 
 
 Woe 's me ! 
 What 's changed my father's spirit towards his child ? 
 Than whom was lately more indulgent none, 
 
54 Jephtiia. 
 
 Nor any parent loved his children more, 
 
 Who now severe, and gloomy, sad and fierce, 
 
 Bears yet upon his threat'ning countenance 
 
 The tumult of the war. Whate'er it be, 
 
 Too much I dread it. Only this one thing 
 
 I cannot understand, in that he says 
 
 He grieves because of me, and I am conscious 
 
 Of no fault in me to offend a parent. 
 
 O common crowd of women, by hard lot 
 
 Brought forth to vital air ! whom, lacking fault. 
 
 Rumour malign corrodes with envious tooth. 
 
 For fact is held whatever wrath invents 
 
 Of prating slave, whate'er a jealous spouse 
 
 Imagines, or an envious neighbourhood. 
 
 What 'tis my sire suspects I do not know ; 
 
 This I conceive my surest remedy. 
 
 That I possess a conscience void of stain. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Well hast thou spoken, daughter, worthy thou 
 Of sire victorious, and of mother chaste, 
 And of thy country worthy. Though the guilt 
 Of human malice has invented crimes, 
 God views the secret motives of the mind ; 
 When he is judge the pure soul overcomes. 
 
Jephtha. 55 
 
 From him the guerdons of the acted hfe 
 
 Are to be sought and hoped for, but the wrongs. 
 
 Of parent just, or unjust, must be borne 
 
 By duteous children. Wherefore home revisit, 
 
 Obedient to thy sire. If aught of ill 
 
 Fame 's spread abroad, I here will hunt it out, 
 
 The footsteps of thy father following, 
 
 And presently will show thee what it is. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Kind Symmachus, why haste you not to do it ? 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 With eagerness I '11 do it. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Do all thou canst, 
 The trembling damsel from this dread to free ; 
 This th' ancient right of friendship claims of thee, 
 Which even from your earliest cradles cherish'd, 
 Has always in one faithful tenor stood : 
 Our native country ev'n claims this of thee. 
 Which owes to Jephtha her deliverance. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Well, be thou silent ; leave it to my care. 
 
56 Jephtha. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 But see you set about it skilfully, 
 
 And search the darken'd mazes of the mind. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Fear thou not that ; he neither could nor would 
 Conceal his meaning ; I the fit time know. 
 
»)cene ^t\)zntl). 
 
 C HO R US. 
 
 Go happy thou with lucky foot ; 
 
 May he who sees 
 
 What 's hidden in the bosom's deep recess, 
 
 At once a witness, and a righteous judge, 
 
 Prosper thine undertaking. 
 
 But thee, O wicked malice. 
 
 Forward to weave wiles, and by charges feign'd, 
 
 To set sweet friends at strife ; 
 
 Headlong, by rumours dark, malign, to break 
 
 The tie of holy wedlock, who delight'st 
 
 Dear fathers 'gainst the pledges of their love, 
 
 By the blind venom of the tongue, to arm ; 
 
 Thee may he who is at once 
 
 Witness and righteous judge of secrets all 
 
58 Jephtha. 
 
 Banish, and immure for aye 
 In black caves of murky hell, 
 Whence never wand'ring fame of thee, 
 These seats may e'er revisit. 
 Oh, how many heavy toils 
 Would he drag down along with thee I 
 From how many direful cares 
 Mortal bosoms thus set free ! 
 
^tmz dEigljt^. 
 
 SYMMACHUS, JEPHTHA, CHORUS. 
 SYAIAIACHUS. 
 
 What suddenly, O chief in arms renovvn'd, 
 Hath changed the former aspect of thy face ? 
 What cause of sorrow mars our gladsome joys ? 
 Fear hath departed, the perfidious foes 
 Have retribution borne, and peace and rest 
 Been for our country won. When thee the 
 
 state 
 Congratulates with pride for victory, 
 And when the country, wild with festal songs, 
 Thy name to the stars hfts in her praises, 
 Shouldst thou, the author of the public joy, 
 Not also share the public happiness ? 
 
6o Jephtha. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Oh sweet security of lowliest lot ! 
 Methinks he 's born beneath a happy star, 
 Who far from turmoil spends his life remote, 
 Unknown, in silence safe, and free from care. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 But I would rather deem him bless'd, for whom 
 
 True virtue has eternal honour won ; 
 
 Whom from the darkness which most men enwraps, 
 
 Rescued by splendour of renown, and from 
 
 The sluggish vulgar sever'd, glory due 
 
 To worth, to future ages consecrates. 
 
 But he who 's sold to slumber and to sloth. 
 
 Who passes life inactive like a beast, 
 
 It differs not, I trow, whether he 's dead, 
 
 Or leads a life that 's more obscure than death, 
 
 Since equal silence each aHke engulfs. 
 
 Since, therefore, thou hast all on thee bestow'd 
 
 That friendly deity can give to man. 
 
 Wealth, honours, praises, glory, victory. 
 
 Own grateful the benignity of Heav'n, 
 
 Nor soil by sordid thoughts thy splendid deeds ; 
 
 Since nothing can to God more grateful be. 
 
 Than a soul mindful of his benefits. 
 
Jephtha. 6 1 
 
 JEPHTHA, 
 
 Right noble words are honour, victory, 
 Renown, and triumph, glory won in war ; 
 But that which on the forefront seemeth sweet, 
 Look nigher on it, and thou wilt perceive 
 'Tis season'd with the bitterness of gall. 
 On no one hath so prosp'rous fortune shone, 
 That adverse, may not poise with equal beam ; 
 The stern vicissitude of fortune tempers 
 The sad with prosp'rous, prosperous with sad. 
 Thou deem'st me blessed, meas'ring blessedness 
 By empty gfitter and the mob's applause, 
 Me whom the surest misery o'erwhelms. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Well, then, imagine fortune favourable 
 
 Had promised thee all things at a wish ; 
 
 What is there yet remains thou canst desire ? 
 
 Spurn'd, exile, from thy home and country driven. 
 
 Thrust out into the deepest solitude. 
 
 The lord of a poor cottage, suddenly 
 
 As in a dream thou 'rt rich ; yet, judge unjust, 
 
 Complainest of thine own felicity. 
 
 A lofty fortune if thou canst not bear, 
 
 Thou'rt pusillanimous ; but if thou canst 
 
62 Jephtha. 
 
 Not own the great benignity of Heaven, 
 Thou art most worthy of the state thou 'st left, 
 And of thy former hovel. Mortal men 
 Seek for the sovereign power with fire and sword, 
 To thee the leadership has come unsought. 
 And most men purchase victory with blood, 
 The slaughter of their friends, and public loss, 
 Which thou hast now brought back from bloodless 
 
 war, 
 The army safe, and thou thyself unharm'd, 
 The author of the safety of thy land, 
 The terror of the foes, from needy lot 
 Made opulent, a freeman from a slave ; 
 But late ignoble, now distinguished 
 In glory, with thy head thou strik'st high heaven ; 
 But late one of the common populace, 
 Thou boldest now chief place among the people. 
 Nought, in a word, in any way thou lack'st 
 For absolute and pure beatitude, 
 But a mind fit to bear so great a gift, 
 And equal to so hio;h prosperity. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 I see, my friend, the common error holds you ; 
 But if, with the mind's eyes, you clearly saw 
 
Jephtha. 6 
 
 v) 
 
 How greatness is obnoxious to great ills, 
 
 That state of mine which now so much you praise, 
 
 You would declare to be most miserable. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Comes it not mostly through our own default, 
 
 And the inconstancy of restless mind, 
 
 That we bear neither lot in stable state ? 
 
 The rich man praises the tranquillity 
 
 Of the poor cottage, and its silence deep 
 
 By warlike trump unbroke, the slumber free 
 
 From dreams, the vigils free from vexing cares; 
 
 The poor extol with praises without end 
 
 The gold, the purple, clients, vassals, slaves, 
 
 The royal equipage, the houses wide. 
 
 And think that only rich men can be bless'd. 
 
 But balance either in its proper scale, 
 
 And neither lot is free from ev^ry trouble : 
 
 Want vexes poor men, fear the opulent ; 
 
 The rich have pleasure, and the poor few cares. 
 
 Fortune in either mingles sad with sweet ; 
 
 But that should surely be esteem'd the best 
 
 Which mingles many joys with sorrows few, 
 
 Such as Heaven's favour has bestow'd on thee, 
 
 And heap'd with honours, praise, wealth, victory ; 
 
64 Jephtha. 
 
 Which to refuse were acting like a fool. 
 Like a perfidious ingrate, not to own ; 
 And not to know how moderately to bear, 
 I scarce think like a man, 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Vainly thou triest 
 To heal my wound with vulgar medicines ; 
 This stroke 's incurable, for it has settled 
 Upon the inmost vitals, and has pierced 
 Into the living heart ; and so much is 
 My grief more bitter, for 'tis my own fault ; 
 And hence my fault — aye aggravates my loss, 
 My misery my error aggravates. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 But tell it to a friend what e'er it is. 
 
 And do not doubt you trust to faithful ears. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 What recollection hast thou of my vow ? 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Which late you promised if the host were safe .? 
 
Jephtha. 65 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Thou speak'st the very matter — oh that I 
 
 Had been more prudent, had more cautious been 
 
 In uttering that vow ! 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 What error, then, 
 Could be in that, I cannot understand. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 That error will destroy me and my house. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Can offering one victim all destroy ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 The last hope of my race, it is my daughter. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 Her wilt thou sacrifice ? What need demands ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Because she met us first on our return. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 What crime, pray, did your daughter do in that } 
 
 £ 
 
66 Jephtha. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 A promised vow demands unswerving faith. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 And doth this scruple press your mind forsooth ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 It doth, nor can be from my bosom pluck'd, 
 
 Till bloody with a victim horrible, 
 
 I, wretched, lost, my wretched daughter lose, 
 
 And pay just punishment for her and me. 
 
 But thou, O king, who wield'st the glittering bolt, 
 
 Before whom tremble earth, and heaven, and hell, 
 
 If ever prompt obeying thy commands. 
 
 What pleased thee I've either said or done, 
 
 Hear when I pray, propitious aid my vows ; 
 
 I ask not now for haughty victories. 
 
 Or festal plaudits ; war restore again ; 
 
 Let cruel Ammon victor on me rush. 
 
 And end my noxious life with thousand bloAvs. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ah ! change of sudden fortune, 
 How never in unbroken series 
 Aught joyful's left to mortal men ! 
 
Jephtha. 67 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Or cleaving heaven with thy three-forked fire, 
 Hurl thou thy dart driven by the flaming storm 
 On me an impious wicked parricide ; 
 Me, even now injurious, and if more 
 Of life remains, to be yet more and more 
 From day to day injurious, thrust thou down 
 Alive into the deepest Tartarus.* 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 So grave a thing should not be rash resolved. 
 While raves in tumult blind, the troubled soul ; 
 Compose thyself; when passion's rush is still'd, 
 And the free soul will healthful counsels hear. 
 Thou with thy friends wilt freely all determine. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Counsel brings remedy in doubtful things ; 
 
 Who counsel seeks where there 's no place for aid, 
 
 Spontaneously adds folly to his woe. 
 
 SYMMACHUS. 
 
 There 's remedy aye whilst the deed 's to do. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 When the degree of ill admits of cure. 
 * Hell. 
 
68 Jephtha. 
 
 symmachus. 
 If this at first perchance seem arduous, 
 You should not therefore presently despond, 
 The more I think you should for counsel seek. 
 What oft to one has seem'd inexplicable, 
 Another disentangles easily'; 
 If ill advice turn out well in the end, 
 Glory will follow you ; if it fall ill, 
 You still are free from blame ; to be a fool 
 ^ On great advice is almost to be wise. 
 But if on every hand all outgate 's shut, 
 By force unconquer'd, fate inevitable ; 
 Nor wisest counsels can effect their end ; 
 Whate'er the issue be, those will approve 
 Whose counsel you have follow'd. If instead, 
 Without the privity of other men, 
 Thou dost thyself perform a novel deed, 
 He who if ask'd would have approved of it, 
 Will be the first the issue to condemn ; 
 Though for the ill he knows no remedy. 
 He wishes it to be believed he knew. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Spurn not thy good adviser, for full oft 
 Repentance follows on the rash done deed. 
 
^tznz ipint^. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Though tidings sad and undesired I bear, 
 
 Though adding unto sorrows, sorrows new, 
 
 I am resolved to tell 
 
 The mother and her wretched daughter all, 
 
 Perchance by counsel or by prayers 
 
 Sad fate we may avert. 
 
 Meantime occurs to me to mourn 
 
 The common lot of men ; 
 
 Whom first deplore ? the wretched sire ? 
 
 Whom at his wits' end error holds, 
 
 Bound in so strong a chain, 
 
 That he believes his piety 
 
 Can only by impiety saved be. 
 
 Or shall I weep the wretched damsel's fate ? 
 
yo Iephtha. 
 
 Whom blooming in first flower of tender age, 
 
 Brought up to highest hopes, no hostile war 
 
 Drags captive from a captive land afar ; 
 
 Nor will she by a pestilence from heaven 
 
 Sent down be carried off; but she will stain 
 
 The altar dire, a sacrifice, 
 
 And by her father's bloody hand be slain, 
 
 And in a brute beast's stead ; 
 
 From her throat shall out-gush the warm wave of 
 
 blood, 
 Her tender joints maim'd by the sword will be, 
 Which had been spared by the enemy, 
 Nor had the fierceness of a mountain bear 
 With his harsh tooth dared rend. 
 Her father conquer'd, yet she sad must bear — 
 What if the foe had conquer'd, she 'd not borne. 
 Ye hostile corses scatter'd o'er the plain, 
 If any sense your lifeless Hmbs again 
 Revisit, now rejoice, the victor see 
 Wring from himself the bitt'rest penalty. 
 Surely this lot unto our life belongs 
 That sorrow must succeed to joy in turn. 
 As darkness does the sun. 
 As winter rough the gently-breathing spring ; 
 Never so pure a pleasure is at all 
 
Jephtha. 7 1 
 
 That sorrow may not spoil with bitter gall. 
 The treach'rous levity of fortune's mood 
 With cruel change commingles human good. 
 As when with placid waves the still sea lies 
 Beneath the soft, serene, and silent skies. 
 The gathering storm rolls on the tempest black, 
 And heaps the swollen billows from afar : 
 Here the wild currents of the tided main, 
 There wanton Caurus' blasts 
 The trembling bark drag through the foaming 
 
 straits ; 
 That is the very image of our life 
 Which we, 'mong slaughters, tumults, thefts, 
 And fears of death more terrible than death. 
 Spend ; but if aught of joyful chance has shone, 
 Swift on the speedy breath away 'tis flown. 
 Like evanescent light of fleeting flame, 
 Which 'mong dry stubble plays ; 
 Then in a chain unbroken, link'd, and slow, 
 Follow long trains of sorrows and of woe. 
 
^cene ^tntlf. 
 
 JEPHTHA, A PRIEST. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 O SUN, thou author of diurnal light, 
 
 O fathers, O whoever of mankind 
 
 Art free from crime, afar your looks avert 
 
 From this accursed rite ; or open, earth, 
 
 About to drink the guiltless virgin blood. 
 
 And me engulf deep in thy yawning caves, 
 
 In bosom vast ; while uninjurious I 
 
 Can perish overwhelm me anywhere. 
 
 To hell itself refuse I not to go. 
 
 If I no parricide may live in hell. 
 
 What say I, hell ? Hell is at home to me. 
 
 With what lip will my sorrowing wife demand 
 
 Of me with tears profuse ? With what a look 
 
 My daughter look upon me, soon to die ? 
 
Jephtha. 7 
 
 What prayers will she with lamentable voice 
 To me direct, and clasp me round the neck ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Such grief as this is wonted to arise, 
 
 As the companion of the utmost ills. 
 
 When the sore wound denies the healer's hand, 
 
 Or remedy the crime accomplish'd flees. 
 
 But whether thou be miserable or no 
 
 Is in thine own hands placed, and not another's ; 
 
 Thou art at liberty to sacrifice 
 
 Thy daughter or to save her ; or to speak 
 
 IMore truly thou art not at liberty ; 
 
 Save any can spontaneously desire 
 
 To be made miserable. How art thou 
 
 At liberty to perpetrate a deed, 
 
 Which Nature, sacred parent, has forbidden ? 
 
 Which piety resists, which God abhors ? 
 
 First Nature hath in our affections set 
 
 To love our children ; nor our breasts alone 
 
 That holy passion moves j whatever glides 
 
 Swift swimming through the pathways of the seas, 
 
 Whatever cleaves the sky with wings ; whate'er 
 
 Earth, parent of all things, hath in her womb 
 
 Created, that most sacred passion feels. 
 
74 Jephtha. 
 
 For the eternal providence of God, 
 
 Celestial parent, hath the minds of men 
 
 Endued with this force beneficent, 
 
 For the upbringing of their progeny, 
 
 To keep the public concord of the world, 
 
 And aye renew fresh offspring to the race. 
 
 And that the name might deeper strike our minds, 
 
 He father wished to be call'd, and be ; 
 
 Nor only by his own example he, 
 
 But that of savage beasts, of birds, and fishes. 
 
 Approves the bonds of fatherly affection. 
 
 But we (to whom humanity should be 
 
 Peculiar, since we own the human name) 
 
 Are far excell'd by gentleness of beasts. 
 
 Nor to pollute our own right-hands with blood 
 
 Suffices us ; our wicked actions we 
 
 Joy to ascribe to Heav'n \ pretend that God 
 
 Delights in bloody victims, cruel rites j 
 
 Which Egypt does not though she knows not God, 
 
 Nor does Assyria, though entirely sold 
 
 To idols vain, and superstitions false. 
 
 And how much rather ought not we to keep 
 
 Hands pure from slaughter, we the progeny 
 
 Of parents pure, commanded to present 
 
 To God pure sacrifices, chastely given. 
 
Jephtha. 75 
 
 For our God seeks not to be worshipped 
 With bloody victims, nor with blood of bulls; 
 But hearts unspotted by contagion dire, 
 A soul refined by simple truthfulness. 
 And conscience chaste, are to be offer'd him. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Why do the sacred laws command us then 
 To offer victims ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Not that God delights 
 In death of sheep, or hunger satisfies 
 With flesh of slaughter'd steer. He so commands 
 That we may learn obedience to his words. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Behoves it not to pay a promised vow ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 But only what is right the law bids vow. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 It might have better been at the beginning 
 To promise what our fathers' rites approve; 
 
76 Jephtha. 
 
 Now, when the deed is done, what 's once been 
 
 vow'd 
 To God, the heaven-sent law bids us fulfil. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 What law bids parents sacrifice their sons ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 The law that bids them pay a promised vow. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 :' Is't right to vow what it is wrong to pay ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 The greatest wrong is not to pay a vow. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 What if you vow'd to burn our fathers' laws ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 None in his senses such a vow would make. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 And why so ? Is 't not because repugnant 
 Unto the laws themselves ? 
 
Jephtha. 72 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 'Tis so indeed. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 What, then, of him who slays an only child ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Less matters what you do, than why you do it. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Deem'st thou it fitting God's commands to do ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 God order'd Abraham to slay his son. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 W}io bade him slay, the same forbade the deed. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Why did he bid him ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 To commend his faith 
 
 To future ages. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Why did he forbid him ? 
 
78 Jephtha. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Perchance he wish'd to show thereby that he 
 Obedience better loves than victims slain. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Surely we should obey commands of God ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 We surely should. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Does God command to vow ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 He does.' 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 And claims that vows be faithful paid ? 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 'Tis as thou say'st. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Upbraids the lingering ? 
 And from faithless men due punishment exacts ? 
 
Jephtha. 79 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Nought hast thou there 
 To shield thy wicked act ; for he who vows 
 To perpetrate a deed of shocking crime, 
 His foolish passions and his idle dreams 
 Spontaneously obeys. Wherefore desist, 
 Whate'er thy vow may be, thus to ascribe 
 Thy ruthlessness of spirit unto God; 
 Nor deem that he who wicked men abhors. 
 And curses in his laws unhallow'd rites, 
 Can be appeased by the crime he hates. 
 The voice divine is one, the simple truth. 
 Consistent with itself. What he hath once 
 Com.manded, fix'd, and ratified, remains 
 In path immutable, nor in the least 
 Can to the right hand, or the left hand bend. 
 That mark alone to look on is the truth. 
 To take life's counsels from the law alone ; 
 Since God has bid it be as 'twere a torch. 
 To guide the feeble and the tott'ring steps 
 Through paths uncertain made by error blind. 
 But from this lamp how far thou'st rashly stray'd, 
 Thou may'st perceive ; but now, ere error lead 
 You farther off, return into the way. 
 If thou behevest that thy foolish vows 
 
8o Jephtha. 
 
 Can be atoned for by accursed rites, 
 Thou art deceived ; that inhumanity 
 ^ Will more increase, not take away thy guilt. 
 Nor be deceived by appearance false : 
 
 I As God delights in off'rings rightly given, 
 
 ! So he rejects abominable vows ; 
 Nor did the priest depart unpunished 
 "Who fire unholy on the altar laid, 
 
 ^ Though urged by pious zeal to do the deed. 
 Despise not, then, my friendly admonition, 
 But while thou wishest God to please, forbear 
 To rouse his wrath ; for he has no delight 
 In being worshipp'd in thy ceremonies, 
 But in the laws, rites, ways himself approves. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Those oft who seem to be exceeding wise, 
 Who boast themselves above the people rude, 
 I Ve for the most part found to hold the least 
 Of the true wisdom ; none more negligent 
 Observe the ancient rites, or hold at less 
 The sacred mysteries j the people rude 
 And inexperienced hold the vow should bind, 
 Nor know deceit — think what has once been vow'd 
 To God remains unalterably fix'd. 
 
Jephtha. 8 1 
 
 Now, trow I, to be wise is nothing else 
 But to know how o'er faults to draw a veil, 
 And put a colour on the vilest deeds. 
 But how much better were it then to try 
 How to be free from fault, than to seem so, 
 Or with the cloak of caution fraudulent 
 To veil the craft of an abandon'd mind. 
 Whoever, then, shall wish his children thought 
 On godliness intent, let him not seek 
 ?kIore earnestly than it is right to form 
 Their tender minds by learning ; for the more 
 With letter'd knowledge any one 's acquaint. 
 In sacred things he's the more negligent. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 But hear me yet again, most noble man, 
 If time permit, how blinded ignorance 
 Deceives thee credulous. He who defends 
 Himself by error of the common crowd 
 Sins not, I trow, the more excusably. 
 Nor ever can that mightiest sire of all 
 Such sovereign sway yield up to morals bad, 
 That the agreement of the impious people 
 Could turn the right to wrong, of good make ill : 
 No, nor though flatt'ry, tyrants blandishing, 
 
82 Jephtha. 
 
 May praise the worse, and change the rightful 
 
 names, 
 Can it so far prevail that that which seems 
 Honourable unto the multitude 
 Forthwith becomes an honourable thing. 
 One is the simple form of righteous honour, 
 Which neither violence of tyrants stern, 
 Nor the authority of potent chiefs, 
 Is able to adult'rate, or corrupt. 
 f Now mostly he who 's from the people sprung. 
 The more unlearn'd, more arrogantly he 
 Assumes as his, authority to judge 
 In things obscurest ; and with stubborn mind 
 (As mostly is the way of ignorance), 
 Defends a dogma he has once received ; 
 Nor meanwhile in an equal balance weighs. 
 If what he, stubborn, holds be right or wrong. 
 But while by far the dimmest-eyed of all, 
 He, blind, accuses those who see of blindness. 
 As he, whose bowels burn with fever hot, 
 Thinks everything is bitter, and believes 
 That he alone tastes right, when he alone 
 Tastes wrong the most of all ; so you, your breast 
 Clouded with darkness black, seek to command 
 Whom it were reasonable to obey ; 
 
Jephtha. 83 
 
 Whose judgment you should follow, you compel 
 To be companions, and spontaneous urge 
 The firm-built bark to strike against the rocks. 
 This true religion, this true piety, is, 
 To worship God, not in the manner which 
 Thou hast thyself devised ; nor to give 
 In sacrifice the victims which thee please ; 
 But those which the decrees of heav'n-sent laws 
 Demand, and customs of our sires approve. 
 
 JEPHTHi^. 
 
 Whatever 's done with mind sincere to God 
 Is grateful ; always he in good part takes 
 Whatever gifts proceed from simple heart. 
 Heaven, not the gold, but giver's mind, approves. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Although a bad mind can corrupt the right, 
 
 A foolish soul makes not the crooked straight. 
 
 For what thou callest simple, right, and good. 
 
 Are full of the insanest vanity ; 
 
 Unless, perchance, something could vainer be, 
 
 Than shutting eyes against the light of truth. 
 
 Then fallen into blindness voluntary, 
 
 With honest titles thou seek'st praise in crime, 
 
84 Jephtha. 
 
 Removing clear distinction from all things, 
 
 While thou determinest to make the just, 
 
 The unjust, shameful, honourable, depend 
 
 On the opinion of the fickle crowd. 
 
 But if in fools' thoughts lie so great a power, 
 
 That they forthwith can make the right, the 
 
 wrong ; 
 Sacred, profane ; and justice, injury ; 
 Why may we not imagine they can too 
 Change fire to water, water into fire, 
 Turn stones to wood, recall life to the dead, 
 Arrest the rapid motions of the seasons, 
 And quite transpose the eternal course of things ? 
 But if thou deem'st these things 'bove mortal 
 
 strength. 
 And subject only to creative power; 
 Think that the laws which God hath once ordain'd. 
 Are as eterne, and ratified, or more so ; 
 Nor over them have mortals any sway. 
 Nor shall the final day, that threats the world. 
 His edicts break : heav'n, earth, and sea, and 
 
 air 
 Shall in the flame of the last fire dissolve \ 
 But from the law, which was divinely given, 
 No length of time one jot shall snatch away. 
 
Jephtha. 85 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 1 These precepts follow, if you like, for me, 
 ; Who joy to be accounted prudent priests ; 
 I rather wish the simple foolish truth, 
 Than splendid wisdom, impious with guile. 
 
fe>ccne (Elet^eixtJ. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O MATRON, 'mong the dames of Israel, 
 
 Example rare of friendly destiny. 
 
 How suddenly has fortune's ruthless rage 
 
 O'erwhelmed thee in ruin, and brought low 
 
 Thy pride, that almost reach'd the stars in height, 
 
 And in the manner of a tempest black 
 
 Changed thy joys to bitter misery. 
 
 Alas ! enough to man is never known. 
 
 What ev'ry hour to seek, what ev'ry hour to shun. 
 
 Who lately did not envy thee, 
 
 O bravest chief, whom all things prosp'rous bless'd, 
 
 Almost above thy wishes ? — 
 
 The splendour of a noble line, 
 
 And nuptials chaste, 
 
Jephtha. 87 
 
 A daughter worthy of her parent, 
 
 And glory by thy right hand won ; 
 
 Who now art overwhelm'd and sunk 
 
 In wreck of sudden ruin ; 
 
 And to be pitied even by the foe, 
 
 And brooding o'er thy fatal vow, 
 
 Thou fillest the stars of heaven with sad complaints. 
 
 Oh, surely, clouds of error, 
 
 And ignorance hedged round with darkness deep. 
 
 Hath thus the human mind entomb'd. 
 
 Nor any with the clear eyes of the soul 
 
 Can see the pure rays of the simple truth, 
 
 Or the straight path of naked virtue keep. 
 
 As when beneath the niggard light, 
 
 In secret mazes of a forest deep. 
 
 Slippery error oft beguiles 
 
 The wayfarer. 
 
 By dubious meeting of a thousand ways ; 
 
 Among the many winding paths he sees, 
 
 None please him, none displease. 
 
 So hither, thither, and with doubtful mind, 
 
 We men uncertain wander ; 
 
 One scorning sluggish ease, while he desires 
 
 To win the laurel bought by death. 
 
 By hard arms purchases, and with another's grief, 
 
88 Jephtha. 
 
 The murmurs of vain fame. 
 
 One, those who hunt for rich men's legacies, 
 
 Hunts in his turn ; and bed that barren proves 
 
 Of the sweet pledge of love 
 
 Compensates with a num'rous crowd of clients ; 
 
 And joys in turn with studied wile 
 
 The gaping ravens to beguile. 
 
 One would not change the cradle's murmurs bland, 
 
 And prattled plainings of the tender lip, 
 
 For Croesus' wealth, nor for the yellow sand 
 
 Which lucid Hermus rolls along, 
 
 Underneath his wealthy wave. 
 
 But none can plan the manner of his hfe 
 
 So wisely, that he '11 not perchance condemn 
 
 His course ten times within an hour. 
 
 And lo ! the daughter haggard grown with grief 
 
 Comes forth, her mother sad along with her. 
 
 Alas for sorrow ! how unlike 
 
 Those who late shone conspicuous to all, 
 
 In the new praise of triumph glad ; 
 
 Late with their heads they nigh Olympus * reach'd. 
 
 Late blessed even to envy. 
 
 Now example singular 
 
 Of fortune's instability. 
 
 * Heaven. 
 
Jephtha. 89 
 
 God whirls affairs of men, as dust is driven 
 By the light whirlwind of the mobile air; 
 Or in the manner of a wintry storm, 
 Which by the blasts of Caiirus wild, 
 Buries the lofty hills in hail ; 
 Presently, where the pure torch of clear day, 
 Since rosy morn with pleasant light had shone, 
 Now wide dispersed o'er the whitening fields, 
 The sun scarce seen, it melts and dies away. 
 
^ttm ^toelftlj. 
 
 STORGE, JEPHTHA, IPHIS. 
 STORGE. 
 
 EMPTY hopes ! the nuptial festival 
 
 1 was preparing, daughter ; I desired 
 And long d to see that happy day when I 
 Should thee behold enrich'd with children dear, 
 And blessed in an honourable spouse ; 
 
 Of thee in vain I augur'd lying dreams, 
 Me, now, the furious cruelty of fortune, 
 Raging with an unwonted mockery. 
 Hath from the top supreme of happiness 
 Thrown down, and by one blow o'erwhelmed 
 
 all. 
 Oh three times blessed, whom the hostile sword 
 Hath robb'd of children, or the pestilence 
 
Jephtha. 91 
 
 Of air, or famine ; for your tears lack crime, 
 Ye can impute your miseries to others ; 
 \ Here in a single deed of wickedness, 
 ' Fortune hath mix'd six hundred wicked deeds : 
 A parent doomsman of an only child, 
 , Unhallow'd worship, and the altars stain'd 
 By foreign rite with victim horrible. 
 If thou believest deity approves 
 Only of holy worship purely given, 
 Abstain the barb'rous custom ; but if God 
 Can be appeased by horrid cruelty. 
 Slay me a victim with my daughter too. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Too much of bitterness our lot contains 
 Within itself without an added ill. 
 Wherefore forbear to kindle both to wrath 
 By railing words that do not help our grief, 
 Though this a cruel evil is to all, 
 Most cruel truly is my lot in it. 
 For innocence is joined with your ills, 
 Your hapless mis'ry wants the stain of guilt. 
 ■ I cannot wicked be, and not be wretched, 
 Nor live calamitous, and free from crime ; 
 Alone I 'm forced to do the deed, and suffer. 
 
92 Jephtha. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Without constraint you gladly force yourself. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Oh that the vow at my disposal lay, 
 Nor wicked 'twere a promise to deny. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 \ No wicked vow to God is ever pleasing. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 ' That this was pleasing vict'ry witnesses. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 What ! can you promise what is not your own ? 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Is not my daughter mine ? 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 She is ; but just 
 As she is mine. And since the common pledge 
 Of mutual love, why to the sire alone 
 Is it allow'd to lose her life, while I 
 Am not allow'd to save ? If 'twere allow'd 
 
Jephtha 93 
 
 At will of either parent to dispose 
 
 Of children, and by impious divorce 
 
 To wrench asunder the sweet bonds of love, 
 
 More should of right fall to the mother's share, 
 
 The mother's, who would save her only child. 
 
 Who would withdraw her from her father now. 
 
 Of his own will desiring to destroy her. 
 
 What ! if the nuptial torches were prepared, 
 
 And for his child the father chose a spouse. 
 
 Would not the parents, by the will of each, 
 
 Equal, in common, influence the child ? 
 
 But this were truly partnership unjust. 
 
 And cruel fellowship in wedded bonds, 
 
 Not to allow the mother's love to save, 
 
 But to allow the father's rage to lose ; — 
 
 If any can indeed be said to lose 
 
 Her whom he butchers, standing at whose gravt 
 
 He glories in his course of cruelty. 
 
 He who, while he the barriers of life 
 
 Flings back, and with his bloody knife unlocks 
 
 The side, and from the inmost vital depths 
 
 Drags forth the ling'ring soul, seeks to be seen. 
 
 Wants not his consolation in the deed : 
 
 He hunts for praise through blood of only child, 
 
 Crime compensates with breath of sanctimony. 
 
94 Jephtha. 
 
 And boasts himself in praise of parricide. 
 But thou, if thou by raving madness struck, 
 Hast lost a parent's feelings to his child. 
 Permit at least a mother's gentleness 
 To love, what not to love 's the height of guilt ; 
 To save, what not to save 's the height of crime ; 
 What to betray spontaneously is worse 
 Than any parricide ; what to destroy 
 With one's own ruthless hand more cruel is. 
 Than is the truculence of savage beasts. 
 Oh, harder than hard rock ! who 'st either sprung 
 From the harsh oak, or from the savage crag, 
 Among the dens of beasts, nor of our race 
 Possessing slightest vestige, nor our blood ! 
 Why don't you fall down at your father's feet. 
 Daughter, if aught you can, by speech or tears. 
 Bend his hard heart and break his iron will ? 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Have pity, father, I beseech of thee 
 
 By this right hand, made potent through the vow, 
 
 Winner of victory. If ever I 
 
 Have well deserved of thee in anything, 
 
 If ever I with my small arms embracing. 
 
 Have hung a burden sweet upon thy neck, 
 
Jephtha, 95 
 
 If thou hast ever pleasure had in me, 
 Put now away thy cruel thoughts against 
 Thine only child, this direfulness forget. 
 But if on my part I in aught have sinn'd, 
 Tell me; I '11 lighter bear whate'er's to come, 
 If conscious that I 'm justly punished. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 I Nothing, my daughter, has by thee been done ; 
 
 J Mine is the guilt ; the crime is mine alone ; 
 
 I Thou undeserving pay'st the penalty 
 
 I Of my unwisdom ; by unhallow'd vows 
 I 've wretchedly destroy'd myself and thee, 
 
 ^ My wretched daughter ; but oh, had I been 
 More prudent in my words, or in the war 
 Less fortunate, — had I been stricken down 
 By hostile hand amid the thronging ranks 
 Of valiant men so many, I had reach'd 
 The sooner by an honourable death 
 The haven of my miseries and woes. 
 Unwelcome life now makes me thy survivor, 
 That newer sorrows I may ever see. 
 
 I I swear to thee by that accursed vow 
 
 ' Which I have vow'd against the will of God, 
 
 ; By the o'erflowing measure of my ill, 
 
96 Jephtha. 
 
 ' And the sad mem'ry of thy early fall, 
 
 If death vicarious could from death redeem, 
 I 'd gladly, daughter, pay my life for thine. 
 In what do I more blessed seem than you ? 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 As wretched thou'rt as we, or even worse. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Since this is all the slight authority 
 A parent has, I, thy true wedded wife, 
 Ask thee, my wedded husband, one request, 
 And that the last ; command me too to die. 
 Thou canst impute unto myself my death 
 If thou dost love me, but if thou dost hate, 
 Unto thyself ; deliver me by death 
 From sorrow^s, and thyself from future cares. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Too much of crime in one death's perpetrated. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 O sanctity ! O right, and innocence ! 
 The sac 
 To sin. 
 
 The sacrificer of his daughter fears 
 
Jephtha. 97 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Forbear thy tears, my dearest mother, 
 Complaints, and raiHng, and reproach, forbear. 
 And thou, my father, cast away the cares 
 That wring thy anxious breast, nor in thy 
 
 words * 
 Waver and change, because I suffer death. 
 That stern necessity compels thee thus 
 Unwillingly, I know through many things : 
 Thy present sorrow, former gentleness, 
 And my own mind unconscious of a fault. 
 That from a parent I should death deserve. 
 Wherefore whate'er necessity compels, 
 I willingly do not refuse to suffer ; 
 But cheerfully and gladly render back 
 The life I owe my country and my sire. 
 This last request I ask of thee, O mother, 
 Who ne'er hereafter will ask aught of thee, 
 Be not for my sake 'gainst my father wroth, 
 Nor vex his soul ; if any sense retain 
 The buried dead of what the living do, 
 Believe, whatever else, that this will be 
 Most grateful to my shade to know that you 
 Are bless'd, and pass your life in happiness ; 
 Nor to my parents unto whom I owe 
 
9 8 Jephtha. 
 
 To render mutual offices of life, 
 
 And to repay the price of my up-bringing, 
 
 Sustaining the infirmities of age, 
 
 From me should woe and bitterness redound. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 O'er us again may Amnion tyrannize 
 (If such a prayer may piously be made) ; 
 Again Judea bear her former yoke ; 
 Although a slave, thou wouldest surely live, 
 Or wouldst not die by such a horrid death ; 
 Lighter on us had raged the cruelty 
 Of the fierce foe than thy sire's victory. 
 Nowby a new but a most wretched turn 
 Of fortune, 'tis our wish that we were slaves, 
 'Tis our calamity that we have conquer'd. 
 O fortune, ever fierce and harsh to us 
 Even in thy favour, with how many tears 
 Of bitter sorrow wilt thou interest 
 Exact for this brief loan of happiness ! 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 Nay, may they rather pay just punishment ; 
 
 And we, if need be, undeserving stain 
 
 The altars with our blood ; and gladly weigh. 
 
Jephtha. 99 
 
 And grateful, with a single victim's death, 
 The slaughter of so many of our foes. 
 
 JEPHTHA. 
 
 Alas 1 my daughter, now I wretched know 
 How foul, atrocious, and how dire the deed 
 I had design'd, who rashly would have robb'd 
 Myself of such a daughter. But myself 
 Shall from myself exact the punishment. 
 It were unjust that thou, a guiltless maid, 
 Shouldst pay the penalty my madness claims. 
 Whilst I, the author of the grief, survived. 
 Nor envious neighbourhood shall me reproach, 
 That I, when nigh the latest stage of life, 
 Spared myself, while I my daughter slew, 
 And by the slighted blood of only child 
 The breath of ignominious glory bought. 
 But live, thou blessed in the fond regard 
 Alike of parent, and of native land, 
 Thou, who in age art worthier to survive. 
 And oh may he who only has the power 
 Repay thee what thy parent cannot give, 
 Of benefit, and favour, and what shall 
 Be equal to thy nobleness of mind. 
 
loo Jephtha. 
 
 IPHIS. 
 
 \ Father, forbear to weave these fond delays, 
 ■ And break my courage with thy gentle words ; 
 For it indeed were neither right nor just 
 That thou shouldst take the part to me assign'd — 
 'Tis me the vow demands : without regret 
 This life I therefore render back to thee, 
 My father ; it I to my country render. 
 Ne'er shall day come that shall prove me unworthy 
 Of Jephtha's house and of his ancient race. 
 Come, take me hence, bid me be led away ; 
 Now I, to God a victim consecrated, 
 To death devoted, have quite from me cast 
 Love of the light of life \ now all delay 
 To me is very irksome : farewell now, 
 O dearest mother, and thou paternal home ! 
 Wherein I 've spent so many gladsome days, 
 Brought gently up unto the highest hopes, 
 And destined unto nuptials honourable. 
 O fates, O fates, and fathers pass'd away. 
 Gently receive my spirit consecrated. 
 For the salvation of my native land. 
 And thou, O sweetest light of my last day, 
 The last my eyes shall ever drink, farewell. 
 
^cene ^IjirteeRtlj. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O PRAISE and fame of womanhood, 
 
 And glory of a noble race, 
 
 Virgin, too hero-hearted ! though from thee 
 
 The fates with cruel injury 
 
 Thy years more useful have cut off. 
 
 Though Parca's* fierceness and fell rage 
 
 Have from thee pluck'd the flower of tender age, 
 
 Yet what of life from thee 
 
 Stem fortune may have snatch'd away. 
 
 Posthumous fame in praises will repay. 
 
 Where Phoebus first on farthest Ind 
 
 Lifts up the light of ruddy flame. 
 
 Of thee a late posterity shall tell. 
 
 * Fate. 
 
loi. : Jepjitma. 
 
 Thee, he who drinks the floods of the first Nile, 
 
 And who dreads not to dare 
 
 To cross the Ister * in Sarmatic car, 
 
 Shall celebrate hereafter, 
 
 And sing thy dauntless faith, 
 
 That thou shook'st not with sluggish fear of death ; 
 
 But for thy country gav'st up free 
 
 The years that kindly Nature gave to thee. 
 
 Long thou, heroic virgin, shalt remain 
 
 The grief and glory of our virgin train ; 
 
 Through the returning years they will repeat 
 
 Thy name and fame in dirges sad and sweet. 
 
 But ye, oh, the dishonour of your age, 
 
 Life for your country grudging to forego, 
 
 You shall a long oblivion keep, 
 
 Buried in shades of darkness deep ; 
 
 Shame of your kind, a useless load on earth, 
 
 Whom this age scorns, and justly so. 
 
 And whom no other age shall ever know. 
 
 * The Danube. 
 
0-. 
 
 tzm ifDurtcentlj. 
 
 STORGE, A MESSENGER. 
 STORGE. 
 
 Ah, miserable me ! hath every hope 
 Of safety perish'd ? Speak. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 It was indeed 
 An adverse thing, but not entirely ill. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 If there has anything of good befallen, 
 That is the cruelty of flatt'ring fortune. 
 With honey sweet she tempers horrid poisons. 
 Wherefore tell out the evils you conceal. 
 Practice in grief, and long experience 
 
I04 Jephtha. 
 
 Have made my spirit callous; nor has fortune 
 Reserved aught that she can harm me more ; 
 That sure but sad security is mine. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Take then, in few words, how the deed was done 
 When now before the mournful altars stood 
 The virgin, destined victim, maiden shame 
 Suffused her visage pale with crimson blush, 
 Unwont to look on crowds of men ; as one 
 May stain the Indian ivory with purple. 
 Or roses among snowy lilies mix. 
 But with the shame conjoin'd, upon her face 
 Conspicuous shone the power of certain faith. 
 Alone among the weeping crowds she stood 
 Without a tear, firm, and with cheerful looks, 
 Indifferent to her fate, nor struck with fear. 
 The virgin nigh to death her tears restrain'd ; 
 The people them restrain not : one is moved 
 By the late benefit her father won. 
 The yoke of slavery from the country torn. 
 And desolation of a noble house ; 
 Another mourns the bitter turns of fortune. 
 And the brief joy by lengthen'd sorrow bought, 
 And trust in joyful things but rarely sure. 
 
Jephtha. 105 
 
 Another weeps her flower of youth, her eyes 
 
 Like to the stars, her hair that rivals gold, 
 
 And constancy of heart above her sex. 
 
 And then, perchance, had Nature on her breathed 
 
 A beauty sweeter to behold than wont, 
 
 As if desirous, by a gift supreme, 
 
 To dignify the noble heroine's death. 
 
 As the receding splendour Phoebus pours, 
 
 Now rushing down to the Tartessian sea. 
 
 Is wont to be more grateful ; as the hue 
 
 And breath of roses in the end of spring 
 
 Are wont to hold our greedy eyes the more ; 
 
 So standing on the utmost verge of fate, 
 
 Prepared to die, nor softly recusant. 
 
 Nor sluggish with base fear of parting breath, 
 
 The virgin all had moved, and on her drawn 
 
 The looks of all the sorrowing multitude, 
 
 Astonish'd to behold the wondrous sight. 
 
 And brought a solemn silence upon all. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 Go on, tell how the wicked deed was done, 
 Nor spare a mother's ears : thou 'st brought nought sad 
 But what my mind more sad shows to itself; 
 Already I have all anticipated. 
 
io6 Jephtha. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 The hero-hearted virgin, lifting then 
 
 Her eyes to the clear stars, conceives a prayer ; 
 
 Speaks with chaste lip, with voice by ills unbroke : 
 
 Eternal sire of all, parent of men, 
 
 At length propitiated be, forgive 
 
 Thy people's error ; mild, this victim take. 
 
 But if thine anger expiation claims, 
 
 Whatever punishment our stubborn pride 
 
 In leaving thee, our parent, hath deserved, 
 
 Oh may it now be wash'd out in this blood ! 
 
 And oh that oftener I could shed my blood ; 
 
 Yea, if therein my parent's safety lay, 
 
 And the salvation of my native land, 
 
 Could oftener turn on me by thousand deaths 
 
 The onset of thy fury and thine ire. 
 
 But thou, O priest, what fear'st thou ? (for he shook 
 
 With icy fear). Come hither, take this life 
 
 From light ; unloose the body's hind'ring bars ; 
 
 My people, sire, and me free from the vow. 
 
 When thus she spoke, her sire who seem'd but 
 
 now 
 Fierce, bloodier than a tigress, with his robe 
 Cover'd his eyes, suffused with flowing tears ; 
 Him cursing and the rashness of his vow. 
 
Jephtha. 107 
 
 Scarce could the priest o'erwhelm'd with weeping 
 
 loose 
 The passages of life ; and silent long, 
 And sad, the voiceless multitude stood still. 
 When pervious pathway to the voice was found, 
 It was not groans, nor as is wont to be. 
 The sound of sorrow, and of lamentation, 
 But murmuring of a confused crowd, 
 Congratulating thee, and saying thou. 
 Among the adverse wounds of bitter fortune, 
 And joyful gifts of flattering, wert alone 
 Woman most blessed and most miserable. 
 For though this wound has sunk into thy heart, 
 In thy great grief thou hast great consolation. 
 
 STORGE. 
 
 The consolation that exasperates 
 
 An ancient ill by soothing, and renews 
 
 Ever the memory of bitter sorrow. 
 
 And forces open the nigh closed wound, 
 
 More mournful is than is the ill itself. 
 
 The braver that my daughter bore her part, 
 
 The sadder grief torments my aching heart. 
 
THE BAPTIST; OR, CALUMNY. 
 

 GEORGE BUCHANAN 
 
 TO 
 
 JAMES SIXTH, KING OF THE SCOTS. 
 
 Greeting, — 
 
 As all my little works, since the 
 time of my appointment to instruct you, familiarly 
 approach, salute, and converse with you, and repose 
 under the shadow of your protection ; so this work, 
 my Baptist, seems with greater reason more con- 
 fidently to claim the patronage of your name ; for, 
 though abortive, it is my first offspring, and it calls 
 young men from the vulgar strains of dramatic poetry 
 to the imitation of antiquity, and endeavours, as far 
 as it can^ to excite in their minds a regard for piety, 
 which was then almost everywhere persecuted. But 
 this work seems peculiarly to have a reference to 
 
112 Dedica tion. 
 
 you, because it clearly sets forth the torments and 
 miseries of tyrants, even when they seem to be most 
 flourishing ; and this I deem not only beneficial for 
 you to know now, but even indispensable, in order 
 that you may early begin to hate what you should 
 always avoid. I also wish this little work to be a 
 witness for me to posterity, that if ever, whether im- 
 pelled by evil counsellors, or letting the licence of 
 royalty overmaster a good education, you act other- 
 wise, the blame should not be laid on your pre- 
 ceptors, but on yourself, from not following their 
 salutary admonitions. The Lord give a happier issue, 
 and as it is in your Sallust, tiirji your well-doing by 
 custom into nature. This indeed I, along with many 
 others, both hope and wish. 
 
 At Stirling, \st N^ov. 1578. 
 
^rg:ument. 
 
 BYT HE TR A NSL A TOR. 
 
 In the Prologue the poet points out the unreasonableness of 
 many critics. 
 
 Scene I. Malchus and Gamaliel, Pharisees, converse re- 
 specting the character of John the Baptist. The latter tries to 
 persuade the former from persecuting the prophet. 
 
 Scene II. The Chorus moralises on the malignant passions 
 in the heart. 
 
 Scene III. Herodias incites Herod to slay John, because he 
 had reproved them for their incestuous marriage. 
 
 Scene IV. Herod reasons with John, and desires him to cease 
 from disturbing the public tranquillity. John vindicates his 
 preaching. 
 
 Scene V. The Chorus reminds God of what He had done 
 for His people, and calls on Him to look on their present evil 
 condition, and rescue them from their misery. 
 
 Scene VI. Malchus is enraged at the severe denunciations 
 of John, and threatens him with death. 
 
 H 
 
114 Argument. 
 
 Scene VII. The Chorus shows how hypocrites veil their 
 wickedness, and how conscience will sting them ; also, the 
 happy state of the pure in soul. 
 
 Scene VIII. The Queen and Malchus, after a conference, 
 resolve to destroy John. 
 
 Scene IX, The Chorus contrasts the innocence of John with 
 the wickedness of his enemies, and states how truth arms us 
 against all ills. 
 
 Scene X. The Chorus desires John to abate his fearless 
 manner of speech and avoid death ; but he declares he is ready 
 to die, and that he hopes for an immortal life of blessedness. 
 
 Scene XI. The Queen expresses her willingness to bear the 
 odium arising from the death of John. 
 
 Scene XII. The daughter of Herodias requests the head of 
 lohn from the King. He tries to get her to ask something else ; 
 but she, assisted by her mother, persists, and Herod yields. 
 
 Scene XIII. The Chorus moralises on the wickedness of 
 Jerusalem in slaying the prophets, and anticipates the judgments 
 of God. 
 
 Scene XIV. A messenger announces the death of John. 
 
Persons. 
 
 The Prologue, 
 Malchus, a Pharisee. 
 Gamaliel, a Pharisee. 
 John the Baptist. 
 Chorus of yews. 
 Herod, the King. 
 Herodias, the Queen. 
 Queen's Daughter. 
 A Messenger. 
 
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 dje l^rologue* 
 
 The ancient Poets fable there was once 
 A certain Proteus, who had the power 
 To turn himself to every shape at will, 
 Nor could by any fetters be retain'd ; 
 While now he flows into the liquid waves, 
 Now crackles flame, now a fierce lion roars, 
 A tree grows green, or roams a shaggy bear, 
 A serpent hisses, suddenly transform'd, 
 And passing through all miracles of things. 
 But, sooth to say, I Ve found that ancient fable 
 Far truer than the Sibyil's * oracles. 
 For I, however many men I see, 
 Believe I see so many Protei, 
 Who at their pleasure can new looks assume. 
 And into any shape themselves convert ; 
 * Sibyll, a heathen prophetess. 
 
ii8 The Baptist. 
 
 Specially subject to whose calumnies 
 
 The fortune of a drama ever is. 
 
 For should some one bring out an ancient story, 
 
 Ill-pleased they make a noise, they cough, they 're 
 
 sick, 
 But if he bring a new one, then forthwith 
 Old things they seek, approve, and laud, and love. 
 They with illiberal scorn reject the new. 
 And hiss it off ere they can understand it ; 
 Whate'er 's well said they vitiate with ill 
 Interpretations ; all things to the worse 
 Wresting. Themselves given up to sloth and 
 
 sleep, 
 And void of toil, are envious of the toils 
 Of other men, and make it all their care 
 To apprehend what they can reprehend ; 
 If any error be on that they seize 
 Beforehand with the keen sight of a Lynx, 
 And eager brand it with censorious mark ; 
 But what 's well said o'er deaf ears flies unheard. 
 I reckon not a whit their brows severe, 
 Nor the grim arrogance of their crabb'd looks. 
 
 But if there 's present here a candid judge 
 Well wishing, who by kindly favour aids 
 Me in the work of furth'ring purer letters, 
 
The Baptist. 119 
 
 Who pardons trivial errors (since the mind 
 Of man produces nothing altogether 
 Perfect), for him we bring this story new, 
 Or rather ancient history restored ; 
 How formerly by royal lust oppress'd, 
 And cunning calumnies of envious men, 
 The holy Baptist innocent and just 
 Endured a shameful, undeserved death. 
 But truly each one as he lists for me 
 May call this story either old or new. 
 If that be old which many an age ago 
 Befell, this will be reckon'd 'mong the old ] 
 But if we think it new which flourishes 
 Still fresh in mind, then it is wholly new. 
 For always while the race of men exists. 
 New frauds will be, and novel calumnies ; 
 And wicked envy will the good oppress, 
 Might conquer right, and cunning, innocence. 
 

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 MALCHUS, GAMALIEL, CHORUS. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Miserable old age, approaching goal 
 Of my last breath, and ye unhappy fates, 
 Have ye bestow'd on me a longer life 
 Only to this intent, that I, while lies 
 My native land enslaved by her foes. 
 Should see the temples heinously defiled. 
 Profane and sacred mingled ? I beheld 
 The secret places of the hallow'd fane 
 With vi'lence broken, and the sacred gold 
 Tom from the posts ; whate'er the greedy lust 
 Of stern Gabinius* could seize by force, 
 Or luxury of Antony could draw. 
 Hath perish'd ; and (oh, shameful !) we have been 
 * Proconsul of Syria, 57 B.C. 
 
The Ba p tis t. 121 
 
 The sport of Cleopatra's appetite. 
 And lest dishonour fail'd on any hand, 
 Our king, who is great-grandson in descent 
 From a half Arab, from Antipater, 
 The bloody Herod wields his cruel sceptre; 
 Judea is to Idumea slave, 
 And Sion is slave to the Arabarch,* 
 And Solyma is subject to a heathen, 
 God's people now obey an impious king. 
 Yet 'mid so many wounds of cruel chance, 
 In servitude, howe'er severe, remain'd 
 Some spark as yet of pristine dignity ; 
 A certain sample of our native rites, 
 Which even our very foes might reverence : 
 The victor fierce, and not the smallest part 
 Of the empurpled Court began to keep 
 The Jewish laws with honour. By this hope 
 Somewhat refreshed, scarce had we begun, 
 Wearied with miseries, to lift our heads, 
 When suddenly a crime has sprung, whence fear 
 Of no ill threaten'd : lo ! the Baptist new, 
 Not sprung from heathen or ungodly parents, 
 Nor yet amidst a foreign worship bred, 
 But ours in race, a Levite in descent, 
 * The ruler of Arabia. 
 
122 The Baptist. 
 
 To God devoted from his earliest cradle, 
 
 A chief priest's son, a chief priest soon to be 
 
 Himself, had he not chos'n the bitter fruits 
 
 Of glory coveted to snatch, unbid, 
 
 Rather than in its season due to reap 
 
 The harvest ripe of honour. Wherefore he, 
 
 Lonely, inhabiting the lone retreats 
 
 Of the sequester'd country, hath beguiled. 
 
 With show of rigid sanctity, the rude 
 
 And untaught populace. With shaggy hair. 
 
 His body clad with skins, and wild beast's food, 
 
 And tricks of that sort, he hath on him turn'd 
 
 The eyes of all. The multitude believe him 
 
 A new seer giv'n suddenly to the world. 
 
 Already he hath to his side seduced 
 
 A host of the sequacious populace ; 
 
 Already, cities leaving, him alone 
 
 The people honour, him the nobles court, 
 
 Him monarchs dread. He, haughty through the 
 
 madness 
 Of the dull multitude, as if he were 
 A second Moses, dares new laws ordain ; 
 He crimes and sins with water expiates. 
 And ancient laws with novel rites corrupts. 
 And that he may more readily enjoy 
 
The Baptist. 123 
 
 The fury of the vulgar,'^ he assails 
 
 And rends the fathers with reproaches dire, 
 
 Gaining the people's favourable ears. 
 
 Wherefore if none come forward to oppose 
 
 The fierce attempts of this injurious robber 
 
 Raging with insolent audacity, 
 
 That sanctity renown'd throughout the world 
 
 Will perish soon, nay, is now perishing, 
 
 Nay, hath already perish'd. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 It becomes 
 Our caUing nothing rashly to determine ; 
 Mild clemency becomes the fathers meek ; 
 The rashness of a youth may be forgiven, 
 But no excuse can veil our guiltiness ; 
 A very little space thy wrath restrain, 
 Let its rush settle, let thy grief subside. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Even you, Gamaliel, it appears, approve 
 The things this sacrilegious robber does. 
 
 * That is, the advantages arising to himself from rousing the 
 multitude. 
 
124 The Baptist. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 O Malchus, Malchus, I do not approve, 
 Neither do I condemn, until I know 
 Both what the crime, and what its quaHty ; 
 But so far as regards this seer, the man. 
 So far as I have heard, is not so bad, 
 Nor should be thus put down by public hate. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 O stars, O heav'ns, O earth, even this man lacks 
 
 not 
 A patron, who denies that he is bad. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Who roots out vices, who good morals teaches, 
 Who walks first in the way he shows to others, 
 Wouldst thou persuade me that this man is bad ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Who spurns the laws, who teaches novel sects, 
 And novel rites, with every reproach 
 Attacks the rulers, rails against the priests, 
 Wouldst thou persuade me that this man is 
 good? 
 
The Baptist. \2 
 
 gamaliel. 
 If we were judges as severe and stern 
 Against ourselves, as often we are harsh 
 To other men, our profligacy less 
 Would He exposed to public censure. Though 
 Ourselves we flatter often, and are preach'd 
 Blessed, and of the common people thought 
 Inhabitants of heaven, sound, pious, chaste ; 
 Yet none of us the greatest vices lacks. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Though that be true, Gamaliel, is it right 
 For ev'ry fellow from the comimon ranks ■ 
 To rail against the appointed magistrate ? 
 The people ought to hear, and to obey, 
 Be sober, nor refuse the curbs imposed ; 
 The ruler, if in aught the people stray. 
 Should bring them back again into the path ; 
 Let him a law be to himself; but if 
 In anythmg he err, there is a God 
 Who sees and punishes the wicked man. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Seems that a just law ? 
 
126 The Baptist. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Very much. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Why so ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 For proper and peculiar to the people 
 Are rashness, error, bUndness, ignorance. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 You '11 oft find one rise from the people's ranks 
 Who yields not in his wisdom to the chiefs. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Why yield we not our seats to shepherds then ? 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 A shepherd, Moses, David was a shepherd. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 In all things by God's Spirit they were taught. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 And by the same Sp'rit he too can be taught. 
 
The B apt is t. 127 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Will God teach him, think'st thou, forsaking us ? 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 God nor regards the sceptre, nor the stem 
 Of parents, grace of form, nor royal wealth ; 
 But hearts not tainted by contagion foul, 
 Of cruelty, or fraud, or lies, or lust ; 
 In such a temple dwells that Holy Spirit. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Indeed, Gamaliel, to confess the truth. 
 
 You lately seem to me in sentiment 
 
 To approve this wicked sacrilegious sect. 
 
 No longer can I silently conceal it, 
 
 When you do deeds unworthy of your sires. 
 
 Thou who in truth shouldst most of all defend 
 
 Our power and privilege, dost most resist ; 
 
 And that in favour of a raving youth. 
 
 By God, I charge thee tell us what 's the hope 
 
 On this course leads thee ; what gain get you 
 
 hence ? 
 Honours perchance or wealth to thee he '11 give 
 Who overthrows our Order s dignity 
 To the foundation, and calls us to want. 
 
1 2 8 The Baptis t. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 O Malchus, far you miss the proper mark, 
 If you suppose our Order's dignity 
 Can be defended by force, pow'r, or pride ; 
 Not that the way by which our fathers rose. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Old ways the old, and our ways us become ; 
 Let each one live the manners of his age. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Nay, all good men all good ways aye become. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If we had any of our fathers' spirit. . . . 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 And in the manners of our fathers lived. . . . 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 This knave had suffer'd death, not empty threats. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Cruelty to our Order alien is. 
 
The Baptist. 129 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 What 's done for God is holy, pious is. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 An impious piety to give to death 
 The innocent. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Call'st this man innocent 
 Who everything subverts ? 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Well, if he sin, 
 Why dost thou not confute him publicly ? 
 Why dost thou not display thy genius there ? 
 Experienc'd, attack him who 's but rude, 
 Learn'd, the unlearned; who art old, the 
 
 youth ; 
 Perchance thou wilt recall him to the way, 
 And thereby win thyself glory of all. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 This wound will not be cured by gentle means, 
 But by the rope, and by the sword, and fire ; 
 Or if thou know'st of anything more cruel. 
 Than is the rope, than is the sword, or fire. 
 
1 ^o 
 
 The Baptist. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Well, be he what thou say'st, or even worse, 
 If so thou wilt, there 's one thing yet becomes thee, 
 First gently, as a friend, to warn the man ; 
 Lest any one imagine thou wouldst rather 
 Dash him down headlong, doubtful of salvation, 
 Than thou wouldst stretch a hand to hold him back. 
 Now rushing down to ruin. Much behoves 
 Thy fame, that all, ev'n enemies, should know 
 That thou wouldst all men save, wouldst none 
 
 destroy, 
 Save who with stubborn soul on ruin rushes. 
 One thing at least 1 beg thee ere thy wrath 
 Drag thee yet farther on out of the way, 
 Consider what it is thou canst effect 
 By such a resolution obstinate. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Why this, that I put down the enemy, 
 Console the good, the wavering confirm, 
 The shameless terrify, and by this blood 
 Sanction and stablish our forefathers' laws. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 Nay, rather this is what thou wilt effect, 
 
The Baptist. 131 
 
 That thou wilt be believed by all men 
 To have advanced by power of tyranny, 
 Until thou couldest crush the holy man 
 Whom thou could st not refute by argument. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 As holy he, as rev'rend as you like, 
 Yet him the Sp'rit divine does not direct, 
 Since he neglects our fathers' ancient rites 
 And since in you I no protection find 
 'Gainst ruin, I '11 seek succour from the king. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Gamaliel well advises, as I judge ; 
 And do thou to his admonitions yield. 
 But wrath, the enemy of good advice, 
 Clouds the acuteness of the mind, and shuts 
 The ears to the most salutary warnings. 
 
 GAMALIEL. 
 
 He's gone, incensed with wrath, and swoll'n with 
 
 pride. 
 I earnestly, as far as e'er I could. 
 Have warn'd the raving man, endeavoured 
 
132 The Baptist. 
 
 To soothe his savage spirit with soft words, 
 
 And faithful counsel giv'n him ; but, ingrate, 
 
 So far is he from thinking that a favour. 
 
 That he '11 ev'n hate me for my good desert. 
 
 Such now indeed 's the common way o' the world, 
 
 And 'tis the greatest vice, ev'n in our Order, 
 
 Which cheats the crowd with show of sanctity, 
 
 That you may safe contemn the laws of God ; 
 
 If you dare aught against our institutes. 
 
 We strive by gold to raise up enemies, 
 
 To take you off by poison, to suppress 
 
 By witnesses suborn'd ; with rumours false 
 
 We fill the royal ears ; by rumour false 
 
 Avenge whatever has our minds displeased, 
 
 And kindle up his turbid soul to rage ; 
 
 By feigned charges, and by calumnies 
 
 We arm the onset of his cruel wrath. 
 
 Now he forgetful of all modesty 
 
 Goes to the court ; will feign that new sects rise, 
 
 And that the fathers' worship is forsaken, 
 
 The king's authority exposed to scorn. 
 
 In fine, whatever suits his circumstance. 
 
 Masking his crimes with honourable names. 
 
 If he perceive by these the king not moved, 
 
 He '11 forge a bloodier weapon, loud exclaim 
 
The Ba p tis t. 133 
 
 That bands are sworn against the royal head, 
 
 That secret conferences are being held ; 
 
 A horrid deed preparing ; plots afoot j 
 
 And that assembUes meet in dead of night; 
 
 That private wealth by impious factions grows. 
 
 These he will feign or bloodier, for he is 
 
 Of an ungovernable spirit, and 
 
 Contriver aye of barbarous cruelty. 
 
 These poisons of his own imagining 
 
 He will distil into the royal ears. 
 
 And it is almost always such a fault, 
 
 And almost always common to all kings, 
 
 To tell-tales easily to lend themselves ; 
 
 A tale so much the bloodier 'tis it wins 
 
 The easier credit ; empty fears they feign 
 
 And conjure to themselves; and the light breath 
 
 Of fickle fame pursue ; who faithful warns, 
 
 Is reckon'd timid, languid, torpid, dull. 
 
 We splendid in no virtue now invert j 
 
 The very names of virtue giv'n of old ; j 
 
 But haughty in our splendid titles we ; 
 
 Beguile the inexperienced multitude. 
 
 But so far as regards this holy seer, 
 
 Oh that our Order would with caution act 
 
 And moderation. If he 's hither sent 
 
134 The Baptist. 
 
 Ijv counsel and design of God, no power 
 
 Of man will then be able to resist; 
 
 But if he weaves a fraud-concealed crime, 
 
 With his own sword he soon will stab himself. 
 
 l.el every man judge of it as he will, 
 
 If any here would follow my advice, 
 
 Let him from guiltless blood his hands keep pure. 
 
 Nor rashly lavish be of holy blood ; 
 
 Lest the examples which we cruelly 
 
 On other men determine, afterwards 
 
 Should on our own heads in our turn recoil. 
 
 Has Herod not enough of cruelty, 
 
 Unless the fury of a raving mind, 
 
 A torch applying to his rage, augment it ? 
 
»)cene »)econti. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 How deep a night with lurking places dark 
 
 Covers our mortal minds ! 
 
 In how great darkness we the seasons spend 
 
 Of brief life gliding with swift lapse away ! 
 
 False modesty conceals the impudent, 
 
 The shade of piety the impious hides, 
 
 The troubled in their looks feign peace and calm, 
 
 The false oft feign the truth. 
 
 Who on his looks bore sombre gravity, 
 
 A model singular of simple life, 
 
 Now rages wild with fury; passion drags 
 
 Him on, he ruthless kindles into rage. 
 
 As vapour from Etnsean chimneys whirls 
 
 Rocks and stones round in revolution swift. 
 
 As into glowing ashes' furious flame 
 
 The vast Vesuvius burns \ 
 
136 The Baptist. 
 
 Such this dark deadly fury of revenge, 
 
 That drives him on to slay the guiltless seer, 
 
 That by the crime atrocious he may wreck 
 
 The simple naked truth. 
 
 O thou desire of glory, swollen with vain pride. 
 
 Mother of numerous ills ; 
 
 And praise in specious guise of honour feign'd, 
 
 Most splendidly array'd ; 
 
 When once thou hold'st the kingdom of the mind, 
 
 Thou fascinat'st the soul with poisons sweet. 
 
 And binding reason, thou perturbest all 
 
 The high court of the breast. 
 
 Thee truthfulness and shame, and piety flee. 
 
 Thee faith and hope, the guest of better times. 
 
 Who last forsook the earth, 
 
 Through vices shameful grown. 
 
 Oh could some artist upon us bestow 
 
 Pow'r to behold, clouds from the brow removed, 
 
 The naked cares within the hidden breast, 
 
 And utterly reveal the dark recess 
 
 Of the most secret soul, thou wouldst behold, 
 
 Stabled in that small cavern, monsters dread, 
 
 Shaped into wondrous forms ; more than in lands 
 
 Remote, or Nilus, or the Ganges bears, 
 
 Or Libya in savage prodigies 
 
The Baptist. 137 
 
 A fertile soil, or snowy Caucasus 
 
 Horrid with darksome dens. 
 
 Nor there the bloody tigress' rage w^ould fail, 
 
 Nor fierceness of the tawny lionness, 
 
 Nor the dire thirst of cruel wolves for blood, 
 
 Which by no carnage can be satisfied, 
 
 Nor baleful basilisk with pois'nous breath, 
 
 Nor asp that brings the long and final sleep. 
 
 The scorpion dreaded for his forky tail, 
 
 And sounding through seaweeds the crocodile 
 
 With feigned tears, nor craft of fox, nor treach'rous 
 
 play 
 Of Pharian hyaena. 
 Feign'd piety oft cruel tyrants hides. 
 Impious morals the fringed stole conceals ; 
 In homely weeds hath naked virtue sought 
 To hide, 'neath shadow of a rustic cot, 
 Nor she for splendid titles sells herself; 
 At the mad tumults of the forum laughs. 
 And breath of popular applause ; nor sits 
 Assiduous at a mighty patron's door ; 
 Far in the secret country she remote 
 The silent years spends of a blessed life, 
 To none known but herself. 
 
0-. 
 
 cene 'STIjirti* 
 
 THE QUEEN, HEROD. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Art thou so dull thou dost not yet perceive 
 Royal authority totters ? Seest thou 
 Not yet, O blind, the plots so foul prepared 
 Against thy head ? For if this demagogue 
 Another year should live, thou 'It threaten him 
 In vain with bonds, with prison, and with cross: 
 Already haughty he surveys his power, 
 Already with his herd of followers 
 Outshines the minions of the regal court. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 What danger fear'st thou from a crowd unarm'd? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Secret conventicles if you allow, 
 
 You well may think that nothing should be fear'd. 
 
The Baptist. 139 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 But this man doth instruct the multitude 
 Who rush to hear him of their own accord. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 A wide-spread faction should the more be fear'd. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 The holiness of the man forbids that crime. 
 
 \ 
 
 QUEEN. \ 
 
 Full oft that cloak the wicked purpose hides. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Force should be fear'd from satraps purple clad. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Guile should be fear'd from hypocrites austere. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 He 's poor, unarm'd, the wave his thirst supplies, 
 The woods give food, the earth a grassy bed, 
 What plot could he devise against the sceptre ? 
 
1 4 o The Ba p tis t. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thou seest his garb; his food, his drink thou seest 
 But what lies hidden in his heart thou seest not. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Wretched the lot of kings, to fear the wretched ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Most wretched, if the prey of what they fear'd not. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 What then remains that shall be safe for kings ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 If they remove what strikes their peace, all things. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 A good king and a tyrant differ thus ; 
 That saves his foes, this is himself the foe 
 Of his own citizens. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Either is hard, 
 To perish or destroy ; if choice must be, 
 'Tis better to destroy an enemy. 
 
The Baptist. 141 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 If neither needs be, miserable either. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Must nought be roughly done in such a tumult, 
 
 When fury rages in the changeful crowd ; 
 
 AMien laws, religion, the authority 
 
 Of princes are the laughter of the mob ? 
 
 Beware, the semblance false of clemency 
 
 Will sway thy mind from justice ; what appears 
 
 To thee to be a gracious gentleness, 
 
 To one who scans it with a closer look 
 
 It is the very height of cruelty ; 
 
 For while thou sparest one seditious wretch, 
 
 Lost to all good, thou goest about to lose 
 
 All, w^iom he toils to arm against thy head. 
 
 Fancy that come, which needs must come at length, 
 
 The fickle populace aroused to arms, 
 
 All everywhere ablaze with woeful war. 
 
 Waste farms relinquish'd, and the cities burnt, 
 
 And virgins ravished by brutal force, 
 
 And armies join'd in doubtful victory; 
 
 When licence shall have burst the curb of laws. 
 
 Too late thou then wilt curse thy clemency. 
 
 And lo ! here is the pest, the head o' the ill. 
 
142 The Baptist. 
 
 Here comes the Censor. Ask himself; you '11 hear 
 More from himself than fame has spread abroad, 
 Or I 'm deceived. Nor do I wonder now 
 That there are some your sceptre who despise. 
 When you incite the bad by clemency. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 When much you can, it is a good king's part 
 To set bounds to the sceptre. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Is it so ? 
 And shall this fellow set the sceptre bounds ? 
 Say, shall the kingdom at his will be held ? 
 If in thee were the spirit of a king. . . . 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Why don't you go ? Leave these things to my care. • 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why don't I go, lest I anew should bear 
 His insults to my face as formerly. 
 And when a queen must unavenged give place 
 To the most base, what hope of justice then 
 To other men shall give encouragement ? 
 
fecent jfourtlj. 
 
 HEROD, JOHN, CHORUS. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Is she now gone? She's gone. Let's then to this. 
 'Tis not to move thee, nor that thou shouldst deem 
 It is a new thing, if a woman wrong'd. 
 Rich, noble, powerful, in a word a queen, 
 Is more than justly angry and displeased. 
 Even you, yourself, can the best witness be 
 How much I 've always favoured your weal. 
 For all the people's hatred strikes at thee, 
 And asks that thou be tried and punished ; 
 The nobles murmur, and the priests complain, 
 And what so much inflames the public plaint, 
 I '11 briefly tell. You openly assail 
 All ranks of men in slanderous harangues ; 
 Deceive the crowd in ancient laws unlearn 'd, 
 Spreading the deadly venom of new dogma ; 
 And with seditious cries thou undermin'st 
 
144 The Baptist. 
 
 The state, and public quiet of the reahn ; 
 Forbiddest soldiers to obey their chiefs, 
 The people Caesar to obey, whilst thou 
 Dost promise to the vulgar kingdoms new; 
 That they will be freed from the foreign yoke 
 Thou tellest them, and rousest with vain hope ; 
 Nor lett'st the rebel race remain at rest. 
 As if we 'd borne too few calamities, 
 Madly anew provok'st the Roman arms. 
 Nor do I doubt what thou wouldst absent dare, 
 When openly thou hast reproach'd myself 
 With shameless nuptials ; and endeavoured 
 To kindle against me the people's hate ; 
 And hast attempted, what was in thy power, 
 To set my brother and myself at war. 
 And, as if thou 'dst accomplish'd too few crimes, 
 And dared'st all against the weal of all, 
 Thou now preparest war against the heavens ; 
 Attempting to destroy the sacred rites, 
 Wherein this kingdom heretofore hath stood. 
 At this the universal people chafe ; 
 Complaining that too slow I vindicate 
 Our fathers' laws ; but hitherto by me 
 Has nothing too severe 'gainst thee been done ; 
 And now whate'er the favour can confer 
 
The Baptist. 
 
 145 
 
 Of a benevolent and friendly judge, 
 
 Shall bounteously be giv'n by me to thee. 
 
 For no Assyrian nor Egyptian sire 
 
 'Got me a tyrant greedy of your blood ; 
 
 The same land is the country, parent, nurse, 
 
 Alike of thee and me ; as oft as one 
 
 Even of the lowest vulgar perishes, 
 
 Methinks a member 's from my body torn ; 
 
 'Tis my blood then that seems to be let out : 
 
 A just and easy judge thou 'It have in Herod. 
 
 If thou canst meet what 's else laid to thy charge, 
 
 Whate'er thou formerly hast rashly said 
 
 'Gainst me and mine, I freely pardon thee. 
 
 For thou shalt know, the people witnessing, 
 
 That I neglect a private injury. 
 
 Avenge a public wrong. And oh that thou 
 
 May'st so rebut the other charges too, 
 
 That thine approved innocence may leave 
 
 No just occasion of severity. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Go on thus to be gracious ; thou shalt live 
 Illustrious to remote posterity ; 
 Nor think that gold or crowds of armed men 
 Can make a realm as safe as when it is 
 
 K 
 
146 The Baptist. 
 
 By love defended, and by loyalty, 
 That springs from justice. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 He to whom God committed hath to hold 
 
 The people's reins, behoveth much to hear ; 
 
 To credit all can noways needful be : 
 
 Fear, envy, favour, interest, and grief 
 
 Often suppress the truth. If any one 
 
 Or of the people, or the fathers think 
 
 That I have anything too harshly said 
 
 Against him, he must needs his life condemn 
 
 Before he blame my speech. This is my way. 
 
 Has always been, in public, public faults 
 
 To reprehend ; in secret, nought I do. 
 
 And nothing teach. Nor secret lurking-place 
 
 Hunt after ; neither men but vices blame. 
 
 When soldiers came and ask'd me in what way 
 
 They equally could serve the king, and God, 
 
 I them forbade to beat, to rob, to steal. 
 
 Use violence, the simple circumvent, 
 
 And bound their wishes by the wage allow'd. 
 
 Nor preach I hope of a new state of things, 
 
 Save that which ye believe as well as I, 
 
 By ancient prophets told ; nor yet meanwhile 
 
The Baptist. 147 
 
 Can one be found out of so many thousands, 
 Who at my instigation has contemn'd 
 His lawful prince. These charges, whether fame 
 Reports, or blind wrath raging wild invents, 
 With headlong wish to harm, the naked truth 
 Alone with ease refutes. How piously 
 I keep the rites, and ancient institutes, 
 No surer proof could be, in my opinion, 
 Than this, that he who, honourable man. 
 Becomes informer, and my crimes proclaims. 
 Does not come forward in the light of day ; 
 In secret murmurs, where to feign is easy. 
 That I denied that thou couldst rightly have 
 Thy brother's wife, consider with thyself, 
 Whether 'tis better to please thee, or God. 
 And oh that all who dedicate themselves 
 To monarchs' friendship had this mind in them, 
 Rather to speak the salutary truth. 
 Than pleasing flatt'ries bringing future harm, 
 How many ills and cares were then shut out ! 
 If I have anything too freely said 
 Aforetime, and too truly, thou, as right 
 In one who right defends, who art thyself 
 Both good and just, in good and just part take ; 
 And set those Hmits to thy sovereign power. 
 
148 The Ba p tis t. 
 
 The limits of the laws to thee prescribe. 
 Whatever right thou here hast over others, 
 God over thee and over other kings, 
 The King of all, obtains. Whatever then 
 Thou now determinest upon my head, 
 Think God determines that upon thine own. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Talk of the heavens, when thou'st come to the 
 
 stars ; 
 Suffer earth's laws, while on the earth you live. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 The kingdoms of the earth I reverence. 
 And I their kings obey ; the eternal realms 
 I think my country, and its King I serve. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 The thing is clamant, how you kings obey ; 
 You'd have the kings obedient to your laws. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 If I might make the laws, thus would I say. 
 The peoples should obey their kings, kings God. 
 
The Baptist. 149 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Enough disputed : lead him hence again ; 
 It is a tangled matter ; till the whole 
 More certainly lie open and discover'd, 
 I am determined to determine nought. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Whoe'er believes that in a tyrant's speech 
 He views the secret meanings of the mind, 
 Should know he trusts in a deceptive glass. 
 Oh may the sire celestial prosper all ! 
 But what it fears the mind dreads to forebode. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 How wretched and how anxious is the lot 
 Of kings, nor speech by speaking can express, 
 Nor keenness of the mind by thinking know. 
 The vulgar think that we alone are free, 
 That we alone are blessed, we whom want 
 Besieges, whom fear crucifies, and whom 
 A miserable slavery dooms to pain. 
 Whate'er the people love, desire, or fear, 
 They freely dare confess ; they far from dread 
 Enjoy their mod'rate competence ; but we 
 Must out of doors put on a mask of honour; 
 
150 The Ba p ris t. 
 
 We are compelPd to promise courteously 
 
 With looks benign ; in public to speak fair ; 
 
 With feigning bosom to defer our bile ; 
 
 And our just anger to fit time suppress ; 
 
 To threaten most, when most our anxious breast 
 
 Causes of fear oppress. The populace 
 
 Despise a gentle prince, a stern prince hate. 
 
 The fickle multitude must be obey'd, 
 
 And be commanded ; I can nothing do 
 
 At my own will. If I destroy this prophet, 
 
 I shall offend the people \ if I save him, 
 
 I ill consult the interests of my sway. 
 
 What then is to be done ? Or is there doubt ? 
 
 Needs must I to my empire have regard ? 
 
 I 'm nearest to myself, and first of kin. 
 
 The people must be served for the sceptre ; 
 
 What could be then more foolish than to lose 
 
 The kingdom, while I try to please the people ? 
 
 The people rashly joy and wrath assume. 
 
 And rashly throw away. Now I 'm resolved 
 
 To stablish my authority with blood ; 
 
 The vulgar will be easily appeased. 
 
 If wider I allow the present ill 
 
 To spread abroad, 'twill baffle remedy ; 
 
 For instance, has he not already dared 
 
2 HE Baptist. 151 
 
 To cast my shameless marriage in my teeth ? 
 If I unpunish'd suffer that from him, 
 His impudence will not, I trow, rest there. 
 Now to his laws he '11 wish the sceptre bent ; 
 Now he will chains upon his captives bind ; 
 Now he will wish, not to be ruled, but rule ; 
 To kings he will give laws ; he high and low 
 Will equally confound ; a spreading ill 
 Should presently be cured \ a recent flame 
 Be quench'd before it spread; injuries old 
 When meekly borne provoke new calumnies. 
 If with the favour of the people I 
 Can punishment exact, I '11 not neglect 
 The favouring people's favour ; but if not, 
 I 'm fix'd ; all must give place to sovereignty. 
 For what that Malchus babbles of the laws. 
 And curious questions agitates, entangled 
 In vainest disputations, I believe 
 'Tis no concern of mine, if only this 
 One law the people know is to be held. 
 Whatever I can do beyond the laws, 
 They're to consider that legitimate. 
 
^cene jFiTtlj* 
 
 . C HOR US. 
 
 O FOUNDER of the spacious world, and sire, 
 At whose nod tremble all things far and wide, 
 Heaven furnished with many a shining fire, 
 The earth with varied flowers adorn'd and clad, 
 And the seas swelling with the refluent tide ; 
 Hath not fame brought unto our ears 
 (Fame that knows all of former time) 
 The splendid deeds which thou hast done ? 
 When thou by strength of thy strong hand, 
 The kingdoms haughty in their gold and wealth, 
 Extinguish'd quite, pluck'd from the root, 
 To plant our kindred in the land, 
 A land not gained by our sword and spear, 
 Or counsel, or resource in war. 
 But Heaven's all-powerful grace instead 
 Us safely through their fierce hosts led. 
 
The Baptist. * 153 
 
 Oh, art not thou that King of Isaac's seed ? 
 
 Oh, art not thou that God of Heber's race ? 
 
 Who led us when we trampled down 
 
 Their treacherous towers, and fierce foes slew; 
 
 Oft we have to our country brought 
 
 Victorious palms, not confident 
 
 In our own strength, but thee our guide, 
 
 And thy protection. Wherefore then 
 
 Forsak'st us utterly, our sire. 
 
 The people whom thou loved'st before ? 
 
 WTiy leavest us the byword of our foes ? 
 
 Low lies religion ; piety is sport ; 
 
 Empurpled fraud reigns in the royal court ; 
 
 Thy holy people give their pious necks 
 
 As victims to the bloody axe j 
 
 The prophets perish by the tyrant's sword ; 
 
 Our sorrows laughter to our foes afford ; 
 
 Under the specious guise of piety, 
 
 They rule the realm who punishment deserve ; 
 
 They who the realm deserve in prison pent 
 
 Sufter an undeserved punishment. 
 
 Arise, O God, and bring thy people aid ; 
 
 Arise, O blessed parent, let the foe 
 
 Behold thee, such as erst our sires 
 
 Beheld submerging in the deep Red Sea 
 
154 The Baptist. 
 
 The Pharian chariots. Such as thee 
 
 The youth of the fate-telling seer, 
 
 When open'd were his eyes, beheld 
 
 Urging the fiery chariots, 
 
 And scattering flames o'er all the plain. 
 
 When error's darkness has been chased away, 
 
 Which in a murky cloud 
 
 Obscures the light of human mind, 
 
 Thee, shall the earth which warms in earliest sun, 
 
 Thee, shall the earth which last beholds the light 
 
 Of ruddy flame submerged in the deep, 
 
 Acknowledge thee, alone omnipotent. 
 
»>ccne ^ixtl). 
 
 MALCHUS, JOHN. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Such is the state of mortal men's affairs, 
 
 That if God proffered to thee thy choice, 
 
 Thou might'st uncertain wander, wliat to seek, 
 
 Or what to shun not knowing. Wishest thou 
 
 For thee and tliine wealth, honour, opulence ? 
 
 These oft the gainers of their wish destroy. 
 
 Or imprecatest on thine enemy 
 
 Bonds, prison, flight ? These oft prepare for him 
 
 The greatest glory, injury to thee. 
 
 Which I at my own risk have found so true, 
 
 That I need not afar examples seek. 
 
 For when abiding upon mountain heights 
 
 Remote, this Baptist new the populace 
 
 Bewitch'd, and with him drew a num'rous herd 
 
 Of the too credulous people, I alone 
 
156 The Baptist. 
 
 Came forward, others holding, fearful, back, 
 
 The Pharisean rank to vindicate ; 
 
 Nor have I ceased every means to try, 
 
 Until hard bonds have press'd his guilty hands ; 
 
 The public prison check'd the foe's career ; 
 
 And all the court I Ve filled with his crimes. 
 
 But nought avail, so far as I can see. 
 
 Bonds, prison, crimes ; the direful influence 
 
 Of this bad pestilence hath occupied 
 
 The impious people's minds, and all men's breasts 
 
 So drank the deadly poison, that his fall 
 
 They honour, and his dangers they bewail. 
 
 But me where'er I go they execrate, 
 
 And at me, scornful, with the finger point, 
 
 And look on me with eyes of light malign. 
 
 They favour him, the sacrilegious wretch, 
 
 Who has confounded every difference 
 
 Of nature and of ranks ; for him they wait. 
 
 For him they watch before the closed prison. 
 
 I ween that nothing is more miserable, 
 
 Than we are who, neglecting other things. 
 
 Have giv'n ourselves up to the people's good ; 
 
 Whoever sells himself a slave to them. 
 
 Should know well that he 's placed his favour ill ; 
 
 For they are always wont with turn malign 
 
The Ba p tis t. 157 
 
 To favour bad men, nobles to despise. 
 
 Whither betake me now? What first complain of? 
 
 With whom be most in wrath, and whom first aid ? 
 
 The impious people love the prophet false ; 
 
 The Rabbins fear to speak, the king connives, 
 
 The nobles slight ; sole on these shoulders I, 
 
 I, on these shoulders sole, support and prop 
 
 Our fathers' falling rites, no hand to help ; 
 
 Alone I sorrow for the public weal ; 
 
 What then ? Shall I desert my duty now ? 
 
 Betray the laws and our most sacred rites ? 
 
 Our honour and our Order's dignity ? 
 
 And let myself become the scorn of foes ? 
 
 I '11 let me truly ? What else can I now? 
 
 Shall I alone bear that which all refuse ? 
 
 And sacrifice myself while warding off 
 
 The ruin of the state ? Let God defend 
 
 His own cause ; since 'tis now the way o' th' world, 
 
 That every man looks to himself alone, 
 
 I 'm nearest to myself and first of kin. 
 
 If ill I carry on the commonwealth, 
 
 On my head ruin verges ; those who now 
 
 Favour me most, when standing, will the first 
 
 Make at me with their heels when I am down. 
 
 But if I well, I 've placed my favour ill. 
 
158 The Baptis t. 
 
 I '11 nothing bring upon myself but envy. 
 
 Gamaliel's counsel pleases now too late, 
 
 Unless perchance none can be wise too late. 
 
 I wish they rather here sought constancy 
 
 Than punish'd rashness when the action 's done. 
 
 Let each man think what seems unto him good : 
 
 I '11 extricate myself from molestations, 
 
 And patch up favour with this mighty prophet ; 
 
 Nor, trow I, will the simple man refuse. 
 
 But if he show himself of sterner stuff, 
 
 I '11 move all means to make the people think 
 
 That he has not by my arts perished ; 
 
 If I regain the people's favour thus. 
 
 The thing has not entirely ended ill. 
 
 And here he is, I trow ; 'tis he indeed ; 
 
 Lo, what a crowd surrounding follows him, 
 
 The sacrilegious wretch, while we meanwhile 
 
 In the mid city sit 'mong empty seats ; 
 
 But let me hear first what this master says. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 O mighty ruler, author. Lord of all ; 
 Thee, what the air in her loose bosom holds, 
 Whate'er the earth brings forth, whate'er the seas 
 Beneath their waters nourish, own as God, 
 
The Baptist. 159 
 
 Know thee their parent, and the laws once given 
 
 WiUing obey in path immutable ; 
 
 At thy command spring paints the fields with 
 
 flowers, 
 The summer gives her fi-uits, the autumn wine, 
 And winter clothes the hills with whit'ning frosts ; 
 The winding rivers roll into the main 
 Their heaps of water, the sea ebbs and flows, 
 The night Diana,^ Phoebus fires the day. 
 And lights the world with never-resting lamp. 
 There 's nothing, in a word, in heaven or earth, 
 That does not willingly obey its king, 
 Its parent love, and in its proper sphere 
 Its seal and service to its maker show. 
 But man alone, who far before the rest 
 Ought to rejoice, and follow God's commands. 
 He sole is chief contemner of them all ; 
 His precepts spurns, rejects the curb of laws; 
 Runs headlong to all wickedness, and metes 
 Justice by pleasure, weighs the riglit with might. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Thus far thy principles are just and right. 
 * The moon ; Phoebus, the sun. 
 
i6o The Baptist. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Nor at the nations wonder I so much 
 Who through the world in error wander wide, 
 As at the people who loud boast themselves 
 The heritage of God, and with reproach 
 Others assail and call them impious \ 
 When not a nation which the sun surveys. 
 Wherever in his course he views the earth, 
 In the whole world doth more unbridled live. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Thus far thou 'st certainly said nought but truth. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Nor this the fickle vulgar's fault alone ; 
 
 Levite shining far in snowy robe, 
 
 And scribe puff' d up in knowledge of the law, 
 And you, ye reverend men of age mature. 
 Error oblique drags in its devious folds ; 
 The widow's cause in your hands is betray'd. 
 The orphan's too ; the rich oppress the poor ; 
 And right and wrong alike are bought and sold. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 1 burst with rage ; can I this silent hear ? 
 
The Baptist. i6i 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 But you, O Rabbins, who pretend to excel 
 
 In sanctity and knowledge other men, 
 
 And you, the sacred dignity of priests, 
 
 And thou, the chief priest of the sacred college, 
 
 Ye tithe each pot-herb brought forth by the earth ; 
 
 Not you can anise, garlic, mint, nor rue, 
 
 Not you can nettle, nor green hay escape ; 
 
 But if it be forsooth, to read or teach 
 
 The answers of the prophets, and to show 
 
 The path of holier living, mute at length 
 
 Is your authority ; ye bark not then. 
 
 Dumb dogs, nor drive away the hungry wolves, 
 
 Raging around the sheep-fold ; said I wolves ? 
 
 Ye are yourselves the wolves ; ye flay the flock. 
 
 Their wool afl'ords you covering, their milk 
 
 Your thirst allays, their flesh your hunger sates ; 
 
 Ye do not feed the flock, ye feed yourselves. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Hence concord to the mischief; longer shall I 
 Those contumelies sufler to be cast 
 Upon mine Order ? Nay, should God from heaven 
 Send me a charge that these things should be heard, 
 I sooner would desert his plain commands, 
 
1 62 The Baptist. 
 
 Than I would hear them spoken to our shame. 
 I cannot longer hear it ; hark, good man, 
 Sole master of the crowd, is that your doctrine ? 
 Dost thou instruct the silly people so ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 If thou art good, my words concern thee not. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Concerns it you to rail against the priests ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 I think it well when vile men are reviled. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 'Tis seemly that a youth obey his elders. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 'Tis seemlier that all men God obey. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 God bade thee utter then these words forsooth ! 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 The truth bids always all men speak the truth. 
 
The Baptist. 163 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 It often profits to conceal the truth. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 AVhen gain is joined with sin I wish it not. 
 
 MALCHUS, 
 
 Thou deem'st it sin unless thou 'rt speaking sin. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 I deem it sin to witness thousands perish, 
 When I could them into the way recall. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Recall ? Are we not shepherds of the sheep ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Yes, if 'tis all the same to feed and flay. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Mind your own business, and let ours alone. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 A neighbour's business here is also mine. 
 
164 The Baptist. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 \\\\o art thou, pray, with such authority 
 Endow'd? Art thou Christ promised to our sires? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 I am not. 
 
 MALCHUS, 
 
 Art thou the Prophet ? 
 
 I am not. 
 
 JOHN. 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Art thou EHas ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 I am not Ehas, 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If thou art none of these, nor Christ our hope, 
 The Prophet, nor EHas, how durst thou 
 Originate a new baptismal rite ? 
 Whom shall we finally report thee ? tell. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 The Voice am I on mountain heights remote 
 Crying, Prepare the way, the paths make straight 
 
The Baptist. 165 
 
 For the Lord's advent ; at whose coming glad 
 
 The hollow valleys shall unfold themselves 
 
 Into the even plains, the lofty hills 
 
 Their stony summits level with the ground. 
 
 In his name I the people wash with water, 
 
 For whom I were unworthy as a slave 
 
 To loose his shoes ; whom none acknowledges, 
 
 Although he walks and lives among you now. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 What riddles this man weaves and plays with words 
 Evasive ! By what miracle art thou 
 Prepared thy authority to prove ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 And I might in my turn of thee demand 
 With justice, by what miracle art thou 
 Prepared thy authority to prove ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 How insolent he is ! though thou conceal'st, 
 Yet all men know what drags thee into fury. 
 You wish in sooth to grow by hate of us, 
 To compass wealth and glory by our loss, 
 And by your wicked arts to rise to power ; 
 
1 66 The Baptist, 
 
 Us you deceive not, you deceive yourself, 
 Neither art thou the first who in this way 
 Hast gone on to deceive ; oh that thou wert 
 The last to suffer punishment deserved ; 
 Or rather by my admonition change 
 Into a better mind, and as thou wert 
 A guide to lead the erring from the path. 
 Changed, be the better guide to lead them 
 
 back 
 Into the fold. I 've seen who on them bore 
 In garb and look severest sanctity. 
 The readier to obtain a great repute 
 For simple, modest minds j when by these arts 
 To honours and to wealth they had attain'd, 
 Lay bare their hidden nature by degrees ; 
 Scorn openly the probity well-feign'd, 
 And to their real feelings give the reins. 
 But if the heights of honour thus thou seek'st, 
 Thy inexperience of the world deceives thee ; 
 Not that the path men to high glory climb, 
 Unless experience, not the worst of teachers, 
 And age, the parent of experience, 
 Beguile me, thou wouldst better far consult 
 The int'rests of thy fortune and thy fame. 
 By seeking for the safe than for the grand. 
 
The Baptist. 167 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 If what I speak be true, and do be right, 
 Why should then any one bid me be mute ? 
 If false, thou, learned, show my ignorance. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 This you '11 repent when punished by death. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Go. threaten that to those who fear their fate. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If long I live I '11 see to 't you shall not 
 Have reason to rejoice in insolence. 
 You'll know yet what it is to scorn the old, 
 To lacerate the Scribes with foul reproach, 
 The Rabbins to provoke with saucy words ; 
 And since you scorn to have us as your friends, 
 You '11 learn what hatred of old men can do. 
 
^ceite ^z^mti* 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Whoe'er prepares himself to steal, 
 
 Avoids the shining lamps of night ; 
 
 Th' assassin hates a flaming torch, 
 
 As if it of his fury knew ; 
 
 A boy refuses medicine 
 
 When it 's with bitter wormwood mix d ; 
 
 From salutary plaster shrinks 
 
 The open wound. Whose secret breast 
 
 Hid evils of the mind aye gnaw, 
 
 To him the truth distasteful is ; 
 
 For truth the turbid heart reveals. 
 
 But, O ye hypocrites severe ! 
 
 Who, close and stern, with gloomy brow, 
 
 In execrable gain delight ; 
 
 However slyly ye conceal, 
 
 Through error of the credulous crowd, 
 
The Baptist. 169 
 
 Secret base crimes, and cover o'er 
 
 The foul sink of the impious mind, 
 
 Yet you your secret conscience gnaws. 
 
 Chiding you ever ; in your breast 
 
 A hidden executioner 
 
 Is closed, and scourges with stem whip. 
 
 Oh, three times bless'd is he, and more, 
 
 Who pure of mind is not accused 
 
 At the domestic judges' bar ; 
 
 Nor by the torturer within 
 
 The breast enclosed is always lash'd. 
 
^cene (Kgljtlj. 
 
 MALCHUS, CHORUS, THE QUEEN. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 No sure hope 's in the king ; he has betray'd, 
 By his depraved ambition miserably, 
 His own cause, and the pubHc cause ahke ; 
 While he is studying to please the people, 
 While chasing the light breath of vulgar fame, 
 He with a show of lenity has striven 
 Me to the people's hatred to subject, 
 And vindicate his wrongs at my expense. 
 For instance, if he sees the people take 
 The Baptist's slaughter ill, at once he 's ready 
 With my head to appease the populace ; 
 But if the common people lightly bear 
 The taking off of the new faction's chief. 
 He wishes it to be believed that he 
 Has with great glory thus himself avenged ; 
 Cunningly, thus alternate spectacles 
 
The Baptist. 171 
 
 Of the despised blood of citizens, 
 
 Kings to themselves exhibit ; thus they play 
 
 With mutual slaughter. Whatsoe'er the crowd 
 
 Approves, they claim ; preach it was done by them ; 
 
 And arrogate our toils to their own praise. 
 
 But if the breath of popular favour turn 
 
 In other channels than they thought and aim'd, 
 
 Upon their servants they the blame transfer ; 
 
 And in our guiltless blood and cheap held life, 
 
 Avert the charges of accusing fame. 
 
 Remains the sole partaker of our grief 
 
 The queen, as furious as a tigress robb'd 
 
 Of whelps, because the Baptist, speaking late, 
 
 In presence of the king, did not approve 
 
 The breaking of her former marriage vow ; 
 
 But openly, as by the law forbid, 
 
 Condemn'd his nuptials with his brother's wife. 
 
 While burns the recent flame of surging wrath, 
 
 I '11 set a torch to her distracted mind. 
 
 And fan with proper speeches. And behold 
 
 Now at the very time she shows herself. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Now flame to flame, now poison poison nears ; 
 The last and greatest danger is at hand. 
 
172 The Baptist. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Hail, queen ! O splendid honour of thy race, 
 And solely fit for such exalted state. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And thou, too, Rabbi Malchus ; but why sad ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 What pricks my mind, I reckon, vexes thine. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Perchance ; but tell more clearly what it is. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Why dost thou suffer with a tranquil soul 
 
 The royal dignity to be despised ? 
 
 The dread authority of regal name, 
 
 Sacred tlirough all the world, to be made vile ? 
 
 The sceptre subject to the rabble's scorn ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 A\'hat can I do ? Teach what the remedy. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Wrath worthy of thy spirit and thy birth, 
 And marriage bed at length in heart conceive. 
 
The Baptist. 173 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 'Tis all already done : I burst with wrath ; 
 I weep, I rail, I clamour ; wrath nor tears, 
 Nothing avail ; my words go with the wind. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If thou wert of so great authority 
 
 As wife should be with husband, would he thus 
 
 Have unavenged borne thine injuries, 
 
 His own, to speak more truly ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thou dost see, 
 Malchus, thyself, the wishes of the people. 
 Perchance the king believed this punishment 
 Would blunt his spirit keen, and mitigate 
 His stern audacity. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If you suppose 
 This robber's savage and vindictive spirit 
 Has been by fetters or by prison check'd, 
 Thou art deceived. Keener raves the fury 
 Of the wild beasts which the burst cage pours forth, 
 Than which the lofty woods on trackless hills 
 
1 7 4 The Ba p tis t. 
 
 Have always nourished. What will he not, 
 When freed, whose fetters now the people honour ? 
 Wrath when provoked, is kindled, is not soothed ; 
 By contumelies borne, the haughty soul 
 Is urged to fury. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Nay, he rather will 
 Be soften'd by this benefit, when he 
 Who through his pertinacity had perish'd, 
 Has been set free by royal clemency. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 What thou a benefit, he deems a wrong ; 
 He ofter will remember thou hast bound, 
 Than that thou 'st loosed. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thou tell'st of a stern spirit. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 That planted is in almost every breast ; 
 For what thou 'st well done, favour soon decays ; 
 What thou hast ill done, no one e'er forgets ; 
 And almost all men hate the benefits 
 
The Baptist. 175 
 
 CoDJoin'd in mind with their own evil deeds. 
 Consider that as often as the Baptist 
 Recalls to mind thy benefits to him, 
 He must as oft remember his own crimes ; 
 He '11 not believe that he is freed from guilt, 
 But that while guilty in thine estimation, 
 He has, by bad ambition, been set free ; 
 His punishment deferred for a season. 
 Thy righteous anger to its time suppress'd. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Benignity the savage spirit soothes. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 What by long use has harden'd to the worse, 
 Thou much more easily wilt break than bend. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why don't you then advise me in my doubts ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 If you will trust me, I '11 soon make it plain. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Advise thou ; no delay shall be through me. 
 
176 The Ba p tis t. 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 By action, and by foresight, and request. 
 Great deeds are done, and not by sluggish ease. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 By action, and by foresight, and request ? 
 If nothing thou advance, is it not best 
 To let it rest, than spend thy toil in vain, 
 And be to others laughter ? 
 
 MALCHUS. 
 
 Oft what force 
 Could not accomplish, labour overcomes. 
 Nor falls the lofty stricken oak at once ; 
 Nor at the first assault the warlike ram 
 O'erthrows the walls ; what often thou hast thought 
 Could not be done, time bringeth it about ; 
 What reason cannot, importunity 
 Storms for the most part. Therefore thou solicit ; 
 I\Iix prayers with tears, and anger with advice, 
 And with reproaches flattering blandishments ; 
 Canvass thy husband, sedulous every way, 
 And all occasions ev'ry where embrace. 
 If openly it can't be done, lay snares. 
 And as for me, this I 'm resolved upon, 
 That I '11 ne'er rest until the deed is done. 
 
»)ccnc iltlmt^. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Envy at length, and bitter grief inflamed 
 
 By th' impious furies, hasten to exert 
 
 Against the holy seer 
 
 The whole strength of their cruel rage. 
 
 On that side direful calumny, 
 
 With power tyrannic in foul league conjoin'd, 
 
 Through wicked wiles the battle fights ; 
 
 Upon this side the harmless truth, 
 
 On whom no follower waits, nor potent guard.. 
 
 Dauntless despises their terrific threats. 
 
 As many hostile weapons as are aim'd 
 
 Against a single head ; 
 
 Against a single youth 
 
 As many wicked plots are laid. 
 
 He like a hardy oak 
 
 Shorn by the raving Northern blast 
 
 u 
 
178 The Baptist. 
 
 Or like a rock whereon the sea 
 
 With surging billow beats, 
 
 Is stricken by no fear. 
 
 O deity to all men venerable, candid truth, 
 
 Whom neither warlike force by fear, 
 
 Nor fraud by treachery and plots, 
 
 Can from thy even step prevail to drive ; 
 
 Alone thou dost not dread 
 
 The heaviest vicissitudes 
 
 Of fortune varying oft. 
 
 Thou makest human bosoms proof 
 
 Against all ill, 
 
 For thou alone canst arm the mind 
 
 With power insup'rable ; 
 
 And thou forbidd'st the right hand of the Fates, 
 
 Mistress alike of life and death, 
 
 To be to us a terror. 
 
 But I desist to go to meet the seer ; 
 
 How can I with my wretched tidings fill 
 
 The ears of all men ? 
 
 And lo ! he stands before the prison door. 
 
 O holier offspring of a holy parent, 
 
 And the sole hope of pristine innocence. 
 
 Look to thy safety while the time permits : 
 
 The Rabbi Malchus plots his treacheries ; 
 
 I 
 
The Ba p tis t. 179 
 
 The queen at her wits' end in secret raves ; 
 The courtiers flatter ; and the king his thoughts 
 Dissembles ; others fear to speak the truth : 
 Now comes the time of hazard uttermost. 
 
JOHN, CHORUS. 
 
 JOHN. 
 What danger is it ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Death's bourn is at hand. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Is that the greatest ill that threatens me ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 No greater evil can descend on man. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Although the tyrant's force and treachery 
 Should cease, mere length of time itself brings death, 
 An evil to be fear'd by wicked men, 
 But to the innocent desirable. 
 
The Baptist. 
 
 I8l 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Though for thy safety thou hast no concern, 
 Yet let regard for us have power to move thee ; 
 Somewhat abate that dauntlessness of soul ; 
 By suppHcations bend the royal mind ; 
 Through friends I hope he 's not inexorable. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 And do I not assiduously so ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh would that God may put that mind in thee ! 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 No need to pray ; that mind has long been mine. 
 With my blood the king hastes to sate his wrath ; 
 Nor I refuse ; how more appease the king 
 Than when we wish, and do not wish the same ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Fine words ! 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 What then is your advice to me ? 
 There are two kings who opposites command : 
 
1 8 2 The Ba p tis t. 
 
 The one celestial, clement, kind, and good ; 
 The other earthly, cruel, fierce, and bad ; 
 One threatens death, the other death to fear 
 Forbids me, largely promises reward, 
 If violence I fear not ; one can kill 
 The body, but the other can torment 
 Body and soul together in the flame 
 Inevitable. Say, when these contend, 
 Whom would your counsel urge me to obey ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Herod you never can appease hereafter, 
 If now you let the proffer'd chance escape : 
 The wrath of God is always placable. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 The slower that the wrath divine is roused, 
 The heavier punishment it claims when moved. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Death spurn you so, which God desired to be 
 A dread to mortals ? Lest rash offer'd cause 
 Should wrench in twain the holy partnership 
 Of soul and body, he with mutual bond 
 Of love has knit the body and the soul. 
 
The Baptist. 183 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 I spurn not death ; by momentary death 
 I flee eternal \ that brief loan of life 
 Which God to me has given, at his demand, 
 I willingly restore. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Dost thou, who art 
 A parent, leave thy children orphans so ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 He ne'er will be an orphan who believes 
 That God his father is. 
 
 CHORUS, 
 
 Art moved nought 
 By kindred, nought by tears of weeping friends, 
 Whom to the cruel tyrant thou forsakest ? 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 Them I forsake not, rather I by them 
 Forsaken am. For I run on to death 
 I' the way appointed from the world's beginning ; 
 Truly we 're all to this condition born. 
 Whoe'er enjoy the gift of the sweet light. 
 
184 The Baptist. 
 
 One lot pertains to all, we tend to death ; 
 
 And day by day conducts us thitherward. 
 
 Death God has wish'd to be a punishment 
 
 To wicked men, a haven to the good, 
 
 The termination of a lengthen'd life, 
 
 The gate-way that conducts to longer life, 
 
 That sends us rather born again than dead 
 
 To the bright home of everlasting light ; 
 
 This is man's outgate from a prison drear. 
 
 The transit to a life that knows not death ; 
 
 By this the whole assembly of our sires 
 
 Have gone before, and by it all shall follow. 
 
 What runner, when he 's left the starting post, 
 
 But in his spirit bounds towards the goal ? 
 
 What voyager, on dark and stormy sea. 
 
 Denies the shelter of a quiet haven ? 
 
 What exile, wand'ring o'er the barren wastes 
 
 Of foreign soil, laments a quick return 
 
 To his own land ? I therefore gladly think 
 
 I now stand at the goal, the race now run. 
 
 Now, from the sea of nearly finish'd life 
 
 Scaped, view the land ; now from a foreign soil 
 
 I home return ; about to see the best. 
 
 The first great Parent ; parent he, who bound 
 
 The earth with waves, and clothed it with the skies ; 
 
The Baptist. 185 
 
 Who rules the sure return of changeful heaven ; 
 
 Preserver, author, only Lord of all ; 
 
 For whom all live alike, the live and dead. 
 
 As flames spontaneous roll their circles upwards, 
 
 As waves rush downwards with perpetual fall, 
 
 As all things strive to reach their proper food ; 
 
 Already e'en the heaven-begotten soul 
 
 Breathes after God, the Sire of all, who dwells} 
 
 In light eternal, whom to see is life, 
 
 And whom not to behold is endless death. 
 
 Though horrid Caucasus with frosts oppose, 
 
 Or air with storms, the waves with tempests toss'd, 
 
 And tracts impassable with burning heat, 
 
 Shall I not thitherward attempt to go? 
 
 Not, to behold so many leaders, kings, 
 
 Prophets, and pious judges, break a way, 
 
 Although a thousand deaths obstruct my path ? 
 
 Therefore from closdd prison of the body 
 
 Thither the spirit free desires to fly. 
 
 Where all the world shall soon or later go. 
 
 Nor, trow I, is a lengthen'd life aught else, 
 
 But a slow slavery in a prison hard. 
 
 O death, the sole release from heavy toil ! 
 
 O death, the haven of grief, the rest from ill ! 
 
 Advantage known to few of mortal men ! 
 
i86 The Baptist. 
 
 The wicked's terror, and the good man's wish ! 
 This shipwreck'd frame into thy bosom take, 
 Lead to the home of everlasting rest, 
 Where force, guile, calumny shall never come. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O blessed thou in constancy of soul ! 
 
 O wretched we, whom sluggish fear of mind 
 
 Deprives of fellowship in happiness ! 
 
 And since thou boldest that the deed must be, 
 
 We bid thee farewell, and farewell for ever. 
 
 What different passions turn the minds of men 
 On diverse paths ! He does not fear to die 
 Who nought deserves it ; who deserves to die, 
 If death vain threatening lightly shake his dart, 
 He bloodless trembles with degenerate fear. 
 As eager as the wicked flee from death. 
 By flames, by waters, and by pathless rocks. 
 So eagerly do good men dash to death 
 Their noble souls through all things hard and dire. 
 Death surely has a good unknown to the bad : 
 A life more blessed goes along with death. 
 Nor do we wholly die : our better part jj ^ 
 
 Disdains the greedy funeral pyre, and climbs 
 Its native heavens sublime, and sure remains 
 
The Baptist. 187 
 
 A habitation for the harmless souls 
 
 Amongst the bright inhabitants of heaven ; 
 
 But conscious guilty Shades, th' Eumenides,* 
 
 A joyless train, whose hair are dusky snakes, 
 
 Ceaseless torment in the sulphureous lake ; 
 
 And hungry throat of greedy Cerberus,t 
 
 Plenty of Tantalus, { ne'er satisfied. 
 
 Hence fear of bad men, good hope of the good. 
 
 And bosoms prodigal of brittle life, 
 
 While hastening to secure un-brittle life. 
 
 O Syren, powerful in thy magic lures, 
 
 Life loving the treach'rous, fleeing real good ! 
 
 Thou shutt'st 'gainst us by tender blandishments 
 
 The nigh escape from evil, and obstruct'st 
 
 The lovesome haven of perpetual peace ; 
 
 Where never loud resounds alarm of Mars, 
 
 Nor warlike trumpets sound with murmur hoarse, 
 
 Nor rieving pirate terrifies the main, 
 
 Nor bloody thief lies hid in silent grove. 
 
 Nor robber, with a wretched lust of sway, 
 
 Madly creates the ruin of a people ; 
 
 * The Furies. 
 
 t Three-headed hound at the portals of hell. 
 X Was punished by raging thirst, while water fled from his 
 lips. 
 
The Baptist. 
 
 Nor whelms the poor with slaughter, that alone 
 
 He torpid may grow bless'd in placid ease ; 
 
 Nor he who barters for a title vain I 
 
 The cheap lives of the miserable crowd. 
 
 But tranquil rest, and beauteous comeliness. 
 
 And simple probity do all possess, 
 
 And days that know not to descend to night, 
 
 And life that knows not of another death. 
 
 And joys that nothing know of plaining grief 
 
 O thou corporeal home ! a lodging sweet, 
 
 And the too lovely prison of the soul. 
 
 At length undo from out thy magic knots 
 
 The heaven-begotten soul, which has forgot 
 
 Her native country, in thy bosom clasp'd, 
 
 Drunk with the poison slow of slumb'rous Lethe,* 
 
 In yoke of a degenerate marriage glad. 
 
 O faithless covering of the clayey robe 
 
 Vanish, into thy ashes back return ; 
 
 That the mind rendered to its native heaven 
 
 May fill itself with rays of purest light ; 
 
 Free thee by death from pestilential toils. 
 
 And free the mind from troubles and from cares. 
 
 * Water of obHvion. 
 
^ttnz €lttmt\j. 
 
 THE QUEEN. 
 
 My hopes the Pharisee has then deceived ; 
 The king with equal vanity alike 
 Himself and me has wretchedly betray'd, 
 While he the prating vulgar's gossip dreads. 
 I, wretched, fear for what my daughter does, 
 Whom at a crowded banquet late, the king 
 Had promised, as guerdon for a dance, 
 Whatever she from him should choose to ask ; 
 And she has sworn to ask the Baptist's head, 
 Within a vessel, ay, and she will have it ; 
 She '11 surely have it j if I know at all 
 The spirit of the king. For he, I trow. 
 Freed from the odium of the Baptist's death, 
 Will gladly turn on me the people's hate. 
 And I, the deed being done, will gladly bear 't ; 
 I '11 weigh the hatred with joy of revenge, 
 
1 9 o The Ba p tis t. 
 
 The blot weigh with the gain. 'Tis a base thin^ 
 To be a bloody woman ! Base, unless 
 'Twere baser that kings should be unrevenged. 
 But from the house I see the king and maid 
 Their steps direct ; the nearer comes my hope, 
 The keener burns my fear ; God prosper all ! 
 
^cette '^toelftlj. 
 
 HEROD, THE DAMSEL, THE QUEEN. 
 HEROD. 
 
 Seems it to thee that thou hast now enough 
 DeUberated upon what to ask ? 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 'Tis so, enough ; if promises of kings 
 Be sure enough, and royal. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Fear not that, 
 For it is firm, and ratified by oath, 
 By many witnessed. Ask half my realm, 
 Or if thou hold'st aught dearer than the realm, 
 Thou shalt obtain it. When I will the thing 
 There is no pow'r can hinder. 
 
192 The Baptist. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Soon we '11 see 
 What is the worth of that. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Ask now ; 'tis certain. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 The realm I need not ; for while thou art king, 
 I deem it as much mine as if I held it : 
 I ask an easy and a righteous thing. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 It is not I, but thou thyself dost not 
 Receive the boon, thine the delay. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Give me 
 Within this dish the Baptist's head cut off. 
 
 HEROD. ; 
 
 What word has rashly from thy lips escaped, 
 Virgin ? 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 The word has not been rashly said. 
 
The Baptist. 193 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Thou seek'st a gift doth not become a virgin. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 'Tis no uncomely deed to slay a foe. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Is he a foe worthy of royal ire ? 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Worthy of ire is he whose crime deserves it. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 What remedy shall I find now against 
 The common people's hate ? 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 The people's part 
 Is to obey, a king's part to command. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 It is a king's part to command what 's right. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 The thing that formerly was wrong, the king 
 By his commanding it can make it right. 
 
 N 
 
194 I'he Baptist. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 But law sets limits to a king's command. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 If right be what is pleasing to a prince, 
 It is not law that limits sets to kings, 
 But it is kings who limits set to laws. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Rumour will style me tyrant and not king. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 It fears the sceptre. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Fears, but still it prates. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Still 't with the sword. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Fear ill preserves a realm. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Impunity to crime destroys a realm. 
 
The Baptist. 195 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 He 's safe whom faith of citizens defends. 
 
 DAMSEL. 
 
 Kings must be fear'd, but loved they need not be. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Hate dogs the cruel, and at length subverts. 
 
 DAMSEL, 
 
 Gentleness in a prince the people scorn. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 All this discourse in my opinion shows 
 
 Your promise vain will vanish. Seems to me 
 
 Thou know'st not yet the duties of a king. 
 
 If thou supposest that is honourable 
 
 And base to kings, which to the multitude 
 
 Is honourable and base, thou art deceived : 
 
 Father-in-law, friends, kinsmen, son-in-law, 
 
 Brother and sister, citizen and foe, 
 
 Are chains for poor men ; empty words to kings. 
 
 Whoe'er puts on his head a diadem. 
 
 Should fling aside all grades of common duty. 
 
 Think nothing base that 's useful to a king ; 
 
196 The Baptist. 
 
 Nor deem that any deed becomes him not, 
 Which he for sake of his own welfare does. 
 The people's welfare on the king depends ; 
 Whoever then's devoted to the king, 
 He best consults the welfare of the people. 
 And shall this fellow's base blood rate so high, 
 That careworn day nor night thou canst not 
 
 rest? 
 Oh take from us this terror, take away 
 Shame from the sceptre, wasting from the cities, 
 Rapine from arms, and civil war from all. 
 Behoves thee by a great example new, 
 To settle that authority of kings 
 Must doubly sacred be to mortal men. 
 Crime he has perpetrated, let him go 
 To ruin for his crime ; if nought he 's done, 
 Yet let him perish for thine own wife's sake. 
 Give up her en'my to thy wife ; but if 
 Thou dost despise thy wife, yet king, and sire, 
 I charge thee, keep thy promise to my daughter. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 With certain faith the promise shall be kept ; 
 But if she lists to follow my advice, 
 She '11 wiser choose. 
 
The Baptist. 197 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 But if she follow mine, 
 She will not change her purpose. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Is it so ? 
 Behoved I to have sworn so rash an oath ? 
 Thus to commit into a woman's hands 
 Safety, the kingdom, wealth, and life and death ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Let sure truth royal promises confirm. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 Since 'tis not lawful to deny the boon, 
 Which, sooth, were yet the only lawful thing ; 
 Again I warn and beg you, not to let 
 Your anger urge you on to do a deed 
 That little doth beseem thy sex, thy blood, 
 Thy birth, and height of royal dignity. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Grant this ; leave all the rest to our concern. 
 
198 The Baptist. 
 
 HEROD. 
 
 If you have aught too harsh determined 
 Against the prophet, as the fault is yours, 
 So yours will be the danger. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Now at length 
 Royal authority is vindicated, 
 Never henceforward liable to scorn ; 
 Now I '11 see to it that the stubborn people 
 Speak modestly of kings, or to their loss ; 
 And whether kings command the right or wrong, 
 Learn to endure it with a tranquil soul. 
 
xy 
 
 cene "Stljirteentt). 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O REALM of David, towers of Solyma, 
 
 And citadel of wealthy Solomon, 
 
 Whence such a direful fury 'gainst the seers ? 
 
 Whence such a cruel thirst for righteous blood ? 
 
 She who should be the rule of piety, 
 
 Is the one mirror of a wicked life. 
 
 Thefts, violence, blood, rapine, treachery, 
 
 These are the exercises of thy schools. 
 
 His piety does not persuade the priest 
 
 To keep hands pure from execrable guile. 
 
 The people, idol-worshipping, have left 
 
 The Lord and Parent of the universe ; 
 
 And wood and stone are worshipped for God : 
 
 To them the altars smoke with lambs and calves ; 
 
 The artificer adores the images 
 
 Which his own right hand form'd \ he, lawless, seeks 
 
 Life from a stock ; the dumb for eloquence 
 
200 The Baptist. 
 
 Beseeches ; rich, he supplicates the poor ; 
 
 The lord, the slave ; perish the ancient rites. 
 
 Tliee doth the blood of guiltless prophets drag 
 
 To the tribunal of the mighty Judge ; 
 
 The poor cry out against thee, widows fill 
 
 Heaven with complaints. 
 
 Thee, therefore, no deceptive punishment 
 
 Of vengeance just awaits (unless deceived 
 
 I augur false), for the great Arbiter 
 
 Of heaven, and earth, and sea, who overwhelms 
 
 Arrogant pride, beholdeth from on high 
 
 His people's tears, and sad prayers calls to mind, 
 
 And with avenging hand will soon exact 
 
 Near punishment for great iniquity ; 
 
 The lofty towers wherein thou boast'st thyself, 
 
 The victor insolent shall overthrow ; 
 
 A foreign soldier shall thy farms possess ; 
 
 The keeper of thy vines to foreign lord 
 
 Shall yield thy fruits ; where lofty rises now 
 
 To heav'n the temple of proud Solomon, 
 
 The foreign husbandman shall harvests reap. 
 
 Whilst therefore favour of the Deity 
 
 Allows thee space of penitence, forsake 
 
 The vices of a life in baseness spent ; 
 
 Thrust out the images of foreign rite ; 
 
The Baptist. 201 
 
 Restrain thy greedy thirst for brethren's blood, 
 
 And thine unhallow'd hungering after gold. 
 
 But thou wilt not repent thee of a life 
 
 In baseness spent, nor from the sacred pile 
 
 Thrust out the images of foreign rite ; 
 
 Nor flee the greedy thirst for brethren's blood, 
 
 Nor thine unhallow'd hungering after gold. 
 
 Thee, therefore, shall the wasting plague consume, 
 
 Thee famine, war, want, leanness shall oppress, 
 
 Until thou pay deserved punishment 
 
 In thine own blood. 
 
^ceiu ^ouvtzzntl). 
 
 A MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Who will point out to me where I shall find 
 The prophet's followers, sad news to tell ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Unless perchance in haste, a short space stay ; 
 Speak briefly, for we would be glad to know 
 The tidings that you bear. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 But you will not 
 Be glad, when you 've known what you wish to know. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Howe'er that be, grudge not a brief delay. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Know'st what the damsel asked from the kins: ? 
 
The Baptist. 203 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The prophet's head, when cut off, in a vessel. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 The prophet's head, when cut off, in a vessel, 
 She has received, and with her borne away. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, ruthless, bloody deed ! that heavenly bloom, 
 And grace of look, hath wither'd in sad death ! 
 And lips but now fill'd with the Spirit divine, 
 Dire violence hath seal'd in endless silence ! 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Why do you weep? Cease pouring vain com- 
 plaints. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Forbidd'st thou weeping when I see and hear 
 What should be wept for ? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 If death should be wept for, 
 Let those weep for the dead whose every hope 
 Lies with the body buried ; who trust not 
 That after briefest term of slumber past. 
 
204 The Baptist. 
 
 Their members will return to life again, 
 
 Another and a better life remains. 
 
 Let miserable men weep for the dead, ' 
 
 And only for the miserable dead ; 
 
 Fortune can render no man miserable ; 
 
 For though like termination of the life 
 
 Awaits the guiltless and the guilty soul, 
 
 Yet none shall badly die who well has lived. 
 
 If by the manner of their parting hence, 
 
 You judge of men that they are miserable. 
 
 Then miserable you perforce must think 
 
 So many holy fathers, whom the cross, 
 
 The sword, the wave, the flame, hath reft of life ; 
 
 For him who dies a follower of truth. 
 
 And for religion and the Father's laws, 
 
 We ought to follow with congratulations, 
 
 And seek a like departing at our death. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 All thou hast eloquently said is true. 
 
 But we whom errors and opinions drag, 
 
 While fate we flee, on fate in folly rush. 
 
 The wave submerges whom the fire has spared ;| 
 
 The violence of pestilential air 
 
 Carries him off who 's rescued from the sea ; 
 
The Baptist. 205 
 
 The war's survivor wastes by slow disease. 
 God lets defer, but lets not shun our fate ; 
 And day by day we interest pay for death's 
 Delay, in perils, griefs, diseases, cares. 
 Nor is a long life aught else but a chain 
 Of lengthen'd evil, even to the term 
 Of death, in a perennial series link'd. 
 Nor do we think that we are wretched slaves, 
 Bound in that chain ; the outgate to be free 
 We rather shrink from than the slavery. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF GEORGE BUCHANAN. 
 
 (written by himself two years before his death.) 
 
 George Buchanan was born of a family rather 1506. 
 ancient than opulent, in a farm-house * on the water 
 of Blane, in the Lennox, a province of Scotland, 
 about the first of February, in the year of the Chris- 
 tian salvation, one thousand five hundred and six. 
 His father was cut off by the stone in the flower of 
 youth ; and his grandfather, who was still alive, having 
 become bankrupt, the family, straitened before, were 
 reduced to almost utter want. Yet by the industry 
 of their mother, Agnes Heriot, her children, five boys 
 and three girls, grew up to mature age. Of these, 
 
 * The Moss, or Moss-Leowen, parish of Killeam. 
 
2 1 o Appendix. 
 
 1520. ^^is uncle, James Heriot, sent George to Paris, having 
 conceived good hopes of his genius whilst attending 
 the schools of his native land. Whilst he was attending 
 to the study of letters there, especially to the writing 
 of poems, partly from natural impulse, partly from 
 necessity (for that was the only kind of study pre- 
 scribed to young men), within two years his uncle 
 died, and he himself being seized with sore illness, 
 and surrounded on all hands by want, was compelled 
 
 J ^^2 ^0 return to his friends. 
 
 When in his native country he had spent nearly a 
 year in recruiting his health, he, along with the French 
 
 1-23. auxiliaries, who had then landed in Scotland, pro- 
 ceeded to the camp for the purpose of obtaining a 
 knowledge of the military art. But when in that 
 almost futile expedition,* in a very severe winter, 
 the army was led back through very deep snow, he 
 again fell into bad health, which kept him all that 
 winter confined to bed. 
 
 1524. In the beginning of spring, he was sent to St 
 Andrews, to attend John Major,t who, then in ex- 
 
 * Under the Duke of Albany ; Wark Castle was unsuccess- 
 fully besieged. 
 
 t John Mair, a doctor of the Sorbonne, author of " De Gestis 
 Scotorum." 
 
Appendix. 211 
 
 treme old age, taught Dialectics, or rather Sophistry. 
 Next summer, having followed Major to France, he 
 came under the influence of the Lutheran sect, already 
 widely spreading; and after having struggled for nearly 
 two years with the iniquity of fortune, he was at 1526. 
 length invited to the college of St Barbe, and for 
 nearly three years presided over the grammar class. 
 In the meantime, Gilbert, Earl of Cassillis, a young 1529. 
 nobleman, who was residing in that neighbourhood, 
 was so delighted with his manners and conversation, 
 that he kept him with him for five years, and took 
 him back with him to Scotland. 
 
 When he was thinking of returning to France to i534- 
 his former pursuits, he was retained by the king, and 
 appointed to instruct his illegitimate son, James.* 
 Meanwhile, there comes into the hands of the Fran- 
 ciscans an elegiac poem,t written by him at his leisure, 
 in which he writes that in a dream he was solicited 
 by St Francis to join his order. As there were one or 
 two things in it which touched rather freely on them, 
 though they were men making a profession of mildness, 
 
 * James Stewart, son of the king, by Elizabeth Shaw of 
 Sauchie, died in 1548. 
 
 + " S omnium ; or, the Dream," a free version of Dunbar's 
 poem, " How Dunbar was desired to be a Friar." 
 
212 Appendix. 
 
 they took it somewhat more hotly than, for a fault so 
 trifling, it seemed becoming in fathers so pious in the 
 estimation of the multitude; and as they could find no 
 sufiicient justification of their immoderate rage, they 
 resort to the usual charge respecting religion, which 
 they brought against all tow^ards whom they bore a 
 grudge ; and whilst indulging their own outrageous 
 passions, inflame him more keenly against them, 
 naturally hostile as he was to the licence of the 
 priests, and render him less adverse to the Lutheran 
 cause. 
 1537. In the meantime, the king arrives from France, with 
 his wnfe Madeleine, not without fear on the part of the 
 priestlings, who dreaded that the royal maiden, edu- 
 cated under the care of her aunt, the Queen of Navarre, 
 might make some change in religion. But that fear 
 disappeared on her decease, which followed soon after. 
 After this, there arose suspicions at Court against some 
 of the nobility,* who were said to have conspired 
 against the king. As the king was persuaded that in 
 that affair the Franciscans had not conducted them- 
 selves with sufiicient sincerity, he sends for Buchanan, 
 who then happened to be about the Court, and without 
 knowing of the quarrel he had with the Franciscans, 
 * John Forbes executed for treason, July 13, 1537. 
 
Appendix. 213 
 
 commands him to write a poem against them. He, 
 fearing to offend either, did indeed write a poem, but 
 it was short, and capable of a double meaning. But 
 this did not satisfy the king, who demanded some- 
 thing sharp and pointed ; and to the friars it seemed 
 a capital crime that any one should dare to speak of 
 them except with the greatest respect. So he wrote, 
 on the king's command, more sharply against them 
 that poem which is now published under the title of 
 " The Franciscan," and which, in an unfinished state, 
 he presented to the king. But in a short time his 
 friends at Court informed him he was aimed at, and 1539. 
 that Cardinal Beaton was buying his life from the 
 king with a sum of money ; so he, having eluded his 
 keepers,* set out for England. But affairs there were 
 in so unsettled a condition, that on the same day, and 
 in the same fire, men of either faction were burned ; 
 Henry VIII., now verging on old age, being more 
 intent on his own security, than on promoting the 
 purity of religion. This uncertainty of affairs in Eng- 
 land, and his former familiarity with the French, and 
 the very high civilisation of that nation, drew Buchanan 
 to that country. When he arrived at Paris, he found 
 
 * Buchanan mentions in his history that he was imprisoned 
 during the persecution of 1539. 
 
214 Appendix. 
 
 Cardinal Beaton acting as ambassador, and animated 
 with the greatest hostility against him j so to withdraw 
 himself from his fury, he proceeded, on the invitation 
 1539- of Andrew Govea,* to Bordeaux. 
 
 There he taught for three years in the college which 
 was then being erected at the public expense, during 
 which time he wrote four tragedies, which were after- 
 wards published as occasion offered. But the one 
 first written (entitled " The Baptist ") was published 
 last, and after it he wrote " The Medea of Euripides." 
 He wrote them in compliance with a custom of the 
 college, which required a tragedy every year ; and to 
 the end that, by their representation, he might recall 
 the young men, as far as he was able, from the alle- 
 gories, in which France at that time took excessive 
 delight, to the imitation of the ancients. When he 
 had succeeded in this almost beyond his hopes, he 
 elaborated rather more carefully " J ephtha '^ and the 
 " Alcestis," intending to publish them. But not even 
 then was he entirely free from apprehension, arising 
 from the threats of the Cardinal and the Franciscans. 
 
 * A very learned and excellent man, a native of Bega, a 
 doctor of the Soi'bonne, Principal of St Barbe's College, at this 
 time Principal of the College of Guienne, at Bordeaux ; he died 
 at Coimbra, June 9, 1548, at about fifty years of age. 
 
Appendix. 215 
 
 The Cardinal even sent letters for his seizure to the 
 Archbishop of Bordeaux, but these, fortunately, fell 
 into the hands of great lovers of Buchanan.* But from 1 542, 
 this fear he was released by the death of the King of 
 the Scots, and the pestilence that raged with great 
 severity throughout Aquitania. 
 
 Meanwhile there came to hand letters from the 1546. 
 King of Portugal, commanding Govea to bring along 
 with him men learned in Greek and Latin literature, 
 who should interpret the humane letters, and the 
 rudiments of Aristotle's philosophy in the college, 
 which he was then erecting with great care, and at 
 great expense. On being consulted respecting this 
 proposal, Buchanan readily assented. For while he 
 saw the whole of Europe, either already blazing, or 
 about to blaze forth in wars, domestic or foreign, he 
 perceived that that one corner would be free from 
 tumult, and he conceived that in the company of those 
 who had undertaken that expedition, he would not so 
 much be going to a foreign country, as dwelling amongst 
 kinsmen and famiHar friends. For most of them had 
 
 * Buchanan has omitted to mention here that he taught in 
 the college of Cardinal Moine, in Paris (1544), and in that of 
 Boncour. He was at Bordeaux before the 1st of December 
 1539 ; and was in the college of Cardinal Le Moine in 1544. 
 
2 1 6 Appendix. 
 
 been connected with him for many years in the closest 
 friendship, such as Nicolaus Gruchius,* WilHam 
 Guerente,t James Tevius,| and EHas Venetus,§ who 
 have distinguished themselves throughout the world 
 1547- by their works. On this account, he not only willingly 
 accompanied them himself, but also persuaded his 
 brother Patrick to join so distinguished a society. 
 And at first, indeed, it succeeded very notably, till 
 
 1548. Andrew Govea was snatched away, as it were, in the 
 middle of his career by a death, not indeed prema- 
 ture in itself, but bitter to his associates. For all 
 their enemies and rivals, at first by secret wiles, and 
 at length openly, rushed upon them with a manifestly 
 gladiatorial spirit ; and when they had first handled 
 the matter secretly among their greatest enemies, 
 they seized on three of them, whom, after long confine- 
 
 1549. ment in a squahd prison, they brought to trial; and 
 
 * A native of Rouen, a writer on Roman antiquities, died at 
 Rochelle 1572. 
 
 + Guerente, commentator on Aristotle, writer of a Latin 
 tragedy for the college, which seems to have perished, 
 
 X Tevius, a native of Braga, author of a " History of Portu- 
 guese Affairs in India, during the year 1546," dedicated to 
 King John in 1548, for which Buchanan wrote a poetical 
 address to the king ; author also of ' ' Latin Poems and Orations." 
 
 § Ellas Venetus, a native of Saintonge, Principal of the Col- 
 lege of Guienne in 1536. He edited an edition of "Pomponius 
 JNIela and Ausonius;" died in 1587. 
 
Appendix. 217 
 
 after having harassed them for some time with many 
 reproaches, they again imprisoned them. But not 
 even then did they name their accusers. 
 
 Against Buchanan certainly they inveighed with the ^SSo- 
 greatest bitterness, as one who was a foreigner, and 
 had very few there who would either rejoice in his 
 safety, or attempt to revenge his wrongs. It was 
 objected to him, that he had written a poem against 
 the Franciscans, which he himself, before leaving 
 France, had taken care to excuse to the King of 
 Portugal. Nor did his accusers know its nature, for 
 he had given away only one copy to the King of 
 Scots, at whose instigation he had written it. It was 
 charged against him as a crime, that he had eaten 
 flesh in Lent, from which no one in the whole of 
 Spain abstains. He was also accused of some things 
 spoken slightingly against the monks, which could 
 appear criminal to none but a monk. It was also 
 taken very ill, that in a familiar conversation with 
 some young Portuguese, when mention was made of 
 the Eucharist, he had said that Augustine seemed to 
 him to be most inclined to the party condemned by 
 the Roman Church. Tavo witnesses, John Talpin,* 
 
 * Talpin, doctor of theology at Perigueux in 1570 ; author of 
 various French works. 
 
2 1 8 Appendix. 
 
 a Norman, and John Ferrerius, * of Subalpine Liguria 
 (as he discovered after many years), said in evidence, 
 that they had heard from several persons worthy of 
 credit, that Buchanan was ill affected to the Roman 
 religion. But to return. After the inquisitors had 
 for nearly a year and a half fatigued both themselves 
 and him, lest they should be supposed to have harassed 
 a man, not unknown, to no purpose, they shut him 
 
 1 55 1, up for several months in a monastery, to be more 
 exactly instructed by the monks — men indeed not 
 otherwise either inhumane or wicked, but ignorant of 
 all religion. It was at this time chiefly that he reduced 
 to various kinds of verse most of the Psalms of David. 
 
 1552. When he was at last restored to liberty, he 
 . asked permission of the king to return to France, 
 
 but was asked by him to remain in Portugal, and, 
 in the meantime, received a very small sum of 
 money for his daily expenses till he should be fur- 
 nished with some honourable employment. But as 
 he grew weary of waiting, with neither certain hope 
 nor for a known tim.e, having found a ship of Candia 
 in the harbour of Lisbon, he set sail in her for England. 
 Nor did he stay there, though solicited by very honour- 
 
 * Author of various works, at one time resided in the monas- 
 tery of Kinloss. 
 
Appendix. 2 1 9 
 
 able proposals. For there, all things were yet in an 
 unsettled state, under a youthful king, the chief men 
 at variance amongst themselves, and the minds of the 
 people still excited by the recent civil commotions. 
 So he crossed over into France, almost on the same 1555, 
 day on which the siege of Metz was raised. There 
 he was induced by his friends to write a poem on that 
 siege, which he was the more averse to do, because 
 he was unwilling to come into rivalry with many others 
 of his friends, and especially with Melin St Gelais,"* 
 whose learned and elegant poem on that subject was 
 then in circulation. 
 
 Thence he was called into Italy by Charles de 1554. 
 Cosse, t of Brissac, who then managed affairs in 
 Liguria, and the French possessions on the Po, with 
 a good reputation, and remained with him and his son 
 Timoleon, sometimes in Italy, sometimes in France, 
 for the space of five years, till the year one thousand 
 five hundred and sixty. This time he chiefly devoted 1560. 
 to the study of sacred learning, to enable him more 
 exactly to decide on the controversies which then 
 
 * Melin St Gelais, at that time a favourite poet at the French 
 Court. 
 
 + For some further account of Buchanan's connection with De 
 Brissac, see the Dedication prefixed to Jephtha. 
 
2 20 Appendix. 
 
 occupied the greater part of mankind, and which were 
 nearly settled at home on the liberation of the Scots 
 from the Guisian tyranny. On his return thither, he 
 
 15^3- joined the Church of the Scots. Of the writings he 
 composed in former times, some collected again as it 
 were from shipwreck, he has published. The rest, 
 which yet wander amongst his friends, he commits to 
 the will of fortune. At present, in the seventy-fourth 
 
 1597' y^^^ °^ ^^^ ^§^' residing with James the Sixth, King of 
 the Scots, to superintend whose education he was ap- 
 pointed in the year one thousand five hundred and 
 sixty-five, broken with evils, he eagerly makes for the 
 haven of his old age. 
 
 He died at Edinburgh^ the 2^th of September^ in the 
 year of grace 1582. 
 
 In other editions — Thus far Buchanan of himself at 
 the request of his friends. He died at Edinburgh^ a 
 little after five d clock in the mornings on Friday, the 
 22>th of September, the year 1582. 
 
 TTie dates in the margin are those of the first edition, 
 1608. For the suggestion that seems to have led to the 
 writing of his life, see Randolph^ s Letter. 
 
SIR THOMAS RANDOLPH'S LETTER. 
 
 IN WHICH HE SUGGESTS THAT BUCHANAN's LIFE SHOULD 
 BE WRITTEN. SPELLING MODERNISED. 
 
 To the right Worshipful, my very loving Friend, Master 
 Peter Young, Schoolmaster unto the King''s Majesty 
 of Scotland. 
 
 After my very hearty commendations. Being lately 
 moved with the remembrance of my master, Mr G. 
 Buchanan, by the sight of a book of his, " De Jure Regni 
 apud Scotos," and calling to mind the notable acts of his 
 life, his study, his travel, his danger, his wisdom, his 
 learning, and to be short, as much as could be wished in 
 a man ; I thought the king your master more happy that 
 had Buchanan to his master, than Alexander the Great, 
 that had Aristotle his instructor. I thought you very 
 lucky that had his daily company, joined in office of like 
 service, and thanked God not a little for myself, that ever 
 I was acquainted with him. For one that hath so great 
 acquaintance as he hath with many learned men and 
 companions of his life, and that hath so well deserved of 
 the world, I marvel that no man hath written of it : being 
 a thing so common unto all famous persons, and most 
 peculiar to the best learned. Herein I might chiefly 
 blame you my good friend Master Young, so near unto 
 
222 Appendix. 
 
 him, so dear unto him, that nothing can be hid of that 
 which you desire to know. If you say that time yet 
 serveth, and that he yet liveth whose life I wish to be set 
 forth, surely yet I say unto you, that if it be done after his 
 death, many things may be omitted that were worthy of 
 famous memory, by him to be better known than after his 
 death. The cause of the writing against the Grey Friars 
 is known to many, but afterwards how they prevailed 
 against him, that he was fain to leave his country, how he 
 escaped with great hazard of life at God's hand, the 
 thieves on the borders, the plague in the North of Eng- 
 land, what relief he found here at a famous knight's 
 hands, Sir John Rainsford, the only man that maintained 
 him against the fury of the Papists ; none doth know so 
 well as himself, or can give better notes of his life than 
 himself can. As he liveth virtuously, so I doubt not 
 but he will die Christianly, and may be added, when the 
 former is perfectly known. This is desired by many, 
 especially looked for at your hands, that can best do, and 
 are fittest to travel in so worthy a work. As I crave this 
 at your hands, so shall you command what is in my 
 power. And thus wishing unto you, my good friend, 
 heartily well, I take my leave. London^ the ^th of 
 March^ 1579. 
 
 Your very loving Friend, 
 
 Tho. Randolph. 
 
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