Scene V.
JOAD, JOSABET, MATHAN, NABAL.
JOAD.
Where am I? Am I looking at Baal's priest?
What, David's daughter speaking to that traitor?
And will you tolerate his speech with you?
Do you not fear that a profound abyss
Will yawning open underneath his feet,
So that its flames at once will compass you?
Or that these walls will crush you fallen on him?
What wants he? Wherefore comes, this enemy
Of God, to taint the air we here inhale?
MATHAN.
This violence gives evidence of Joad.
Yet he would show more prudence to respect
His sovereign, and not outrage one that she
Has deigned to charge with her commands.
JOAD.
Well, what's the ill she bids you to announce,
What frightful charge may such an agent bear?
MATHAN.
To Josabet I have made known her will.
JOAD.
Then quit me, monster of iniquity,
Go fill thy measure of all horrid things.
God rules to join thee with the perjured race,
Achitophel, Abiron, Doeg, Dathan t
The dogs which tore the limbs of Jezebel,
Waiting to show their fury upon thee,
Already, at thy gates, demand their prey.
mathan (agitated). Before this day expires—it will be seen
Which of us—— He shall be forced—
(To Nabal.)
But, Nabal, let us go.
NABAL.
Where wander you? What wildering chaos is
The master of your senses? That's your way.
Scene VI.
JOAD, JOSABET.
JOSABET.
The storm has burst!
The queen, enraged, demands Eliacin.
Already of his birth, and your designs
They have begun to pierce the mystery:
Mathan but failed to name to me his father.
JOAD.
To the perfidious Mathan who has told it?
Has not your agitation said too much?
JOSABET.
I did whate'er I could to curb myself.
Howe'er, believe me, peril presses, Sir;
For happier times let us reserve that child.
Whilst wicked ones deliberate with each other,
Before he is surrounded, torn from us,
Allow me to conceal him once again;
To him are open yet the doors, the gates.
Shall we convey him to the wildest desert?
I am prepared, I know a secret way,
By which myself and he, still unperceived,
The torrents of the Cedron passing over,
May go into the desert, where in tears,
And seeking safety, like ourselves, in flight,
David escaped his rebel son's pursuit.
I shall, on his account, fear wild beasts less;—
But why do you not favour Jehu's aid?
Perhaps good counsel I may offer you;
Let us make Jehu guardian of this treasure,
We could to-day conduct him to his kingdom,
For short the road is leading to his court.
Jehu has not a wild, relentless heart;
The name of David's honoured in his eyes.
Alas! is he a king so callous, cruel,
Unless his mother was a Jezebel,
That he would not commiserate the fate
Of such a suppliant? Is not his cause
The common one of kings?
JOAD.
Dare you propose to me such timid counsels?
What can you hope in Jehu's countenance?
JOSABET.
Does God forbid all care and all prevision?
Will not an over-confidence offend Him?
Employing human means to sacred ends,
Has He Himself not Jehu's arm equipt?
JOAD.
Jehu, on whom I see your hopes are built,
Paying His gifts with thankless thoughtlessness,
Jehu in peace leaves Ahab's hideous daughter;
Following the course profane of Israel's kings,
Of Egypt's worthless god he saves the temples;
Jehu, at length, dares offer on the heights
An incense rash which God can not allow:
His heart's not just enough, nor pure his hands,
To serve His cause—to avenge His injuries.
No, No, 'tis God alone we must engage.
Far from concealing, let us show the boy,
And let the diadem surround his head:
I even will urge on the expected hour,
Before vile Mathan's complots can be formed.
Scene VII
JOAD, JOSABET, AZARIAH, THE CHOIR, AND SEVERAL
LEVITES.
JOAD.
Well, Azariah, is the temple closed?
AZARIAH.
The gates have all been made before my eyes
JOAD.
Your saintly troops and you alone remain?
AZARIAH.
Twice I have walked around the sacred courts,
And all are fled; dispersed without return,
Scattered in fear—a miserable crew!
God by His holy tribe's no longer served:—
E'er since that people Pharoah's steps escaped,
An equal panic has not seized on them.
JOAD.
A people in performance loose, and born
For slavery—bold against God alone!
Let us pursue our work. But who retains
These children, even in our midst?
One of the daughters of the choir
Alas, could we, sire, part ourselves from you?
In the Lord's temple are we aliens?
Around you are our fathers and our sires.
Another.
Ha! if to avenge the shame of Israel
Our hands may not as Jael's, formerly,
Have power to pierce God's impious enemies' head,
Yet we at least may give our lives to Him.
Whilst you are fighting for His temple stormed,
We may, at least, invoke Him with our tears.
JOAD.
Eternal Wisdom, in Thy quarrel armed
Here, then, are Thine avengers—priests and children!
But Thou sustaining, who can cast us down?
From death Thou canst recall us when Thou wilt!
Thou strikest and Thou healest, Thou destroyest
And Thou resuscitatest. We rely
Not on our own deserts, but on Thy name,
Invoked so frequently, and on Thy oath
Sworn to the most devout of all our kings,
Within this temple made Thy holy dwelling,
And which the sun's duration is to last.
But whence this sacred thrilling of my soul?
Am I transported by the Holy Spirit?
It is so: it inflames me: speaks to me:
My eyes are opened, and the times obscure
Unveil themselves before me! Levites, lend
Your harmony of sounds, and by their swell
Support my ecstacy!
The Choir sing to the sound of every symphony of the
instruments.
O let the voice of God be heard,
And to our hearts, His oracle divine,
Be as the freshness of the morn
Is to the tender grass in spring.
JOAD.
Heaven, hear my voice. Earth, lend thine ear.
No more, O Jacob, say thy God doth slumber,
O sinners disappear; the Lord's awake.
Here the symphonies are resumed, and Joad instantly
continues.
How into worthless lead pure gold is changed!
Who is that priest slain in the holy place?
Weep, weep Jerusalem, perfidious city,
Wretched destroyer of the sacred seers;
God of His love for thee divests Himself;
Thy incense in His eyes is incense foul.
Where do you take those children and those wives?
The queen of cities God has overthrown:
Her priests are captives, and her kings disowned.
Temple be overthrown! Cedars cast your flames!
Jerusalem, thou object of my grief,
Who in one day has ravished all thy charms?
O who will change, to weep thy miseries,
Mine eyes to two fountains of tears?
AZARIAH.
O holy temple!
JOSABET.
O David!
THE CHOIR.
Restore, O God of Sion, O restore,
Thy ancient benefactions in her favour.
The symphonies resume, and immediately after Joad
continues.
What new Jerusalem arises from
The desert's depths in dazzling splendour,
And bears upon her brow a stamp immortal?
JOAD.
Sing, people of the earth,
Jerusalem reborn more grand and beautiful!
Whence on all sides repair to her
The progeny not fostered in her bosom?
Lift high, Jerusalem, lift high thy head!
Look on those monarchs of thy marvellous glory:
The kings of nations are before thee prostrate,
Kissing the dust of thy feet:
The people in thy light walk emulous.
Blest, who for Sion with a holy fervour
Doth feel his soul expanded!
Heavens scatter your dew, and let the earth
Bring forth its Saviour!
JOSABET.
Alas! from whence this signal benefaction?
If kings from whom Messiah's to descend—
JOAD.
Let Josabet prepare the diadem
Which David's self bore on his sacred brow.
(To the Levites.)
And you, attend me to the place to arm
Yourselves, where is concealed from strangers' eyes
That formidable heap of swords and lances,
Which ever in Philistine's blood were drenched;
And which triumphant David, full of years
And honours, caused to be unto the God
That had protected him made consecrate.
Could we employ them in a nobler cause %
Follow, I will myself distribute them.
