The mighty Jephthah led his warriors on
Through Mizpeh’s streets. His helm was proudly set,
And his stern lip curled slightly, as if praise
Were for the hero’s scorn. His step was firm,
But free as India’s leopard; and his mail,
Whose shekels none in Israel might bear,
Was lighter than a tassel on his frame.
His crest was Judah’s kingliest, and the look
Of his dark, lofty eye and terrible brow,
Might quell the lion. He led on; but thoughts