Poems (Hale)/Jephthah's Vow
JEPHTHAH'S VOW.
His lips have breathed the vow.Thou God of battles, who alone canst bringDeliverance to thy children, in the hourOf doubt and terror, here I bend to Thee.Hear thou my vow. Before Thy throne I swear,That should the haughty race of Ammon bend,In homage low, to Thy victorious sway,The first who cometh forth with song and dance,To greet my proud return from victory,Shall be to Thee a holy sacrificeOf gratitude.
The victory was his;And laden with the trophies of his power,Jephthah returned. Was there no whispering fearTo cloud his brow, to dim his eye with tearsTo send to its pure source the eager tideWhich swelled his veins and flushed his cheek with joy?
But who comes forth to meet him on his way?What sounds of joy, what minstrel notes of praise, To greet the hero from the battle-field?It was his only child,—she whose pure smileFirst woke him to that gush of ecstasy,—A father's priceless, unabated love,—The bright, glad being who, in joy's gay hour,As in the time of grief, had been with him,To share his mirth or to assuage his wo.
And shall it be? Must that young life-tide checkIts healthy gushings from the heart's deep fount?Must that fond eye, so brightly turned on him,That eye which beamed and shone for him alone,Be closed in death and gloom; and must those lipsWhich smiled upon him in their joyous mirth,Which breathed devotion's purest offering,And tuned their minstrelsy in holy songsOf praise to God, be hushed in the cold tomb,No more to cheer him with their radiant smile,Or speak to him of bliss?
O! what was life,What the proud consciousness of victory,When thoughts of that bright being filled his soul?The father's heart grew sick. There was no smileUpon his lip, to greet his only child:No voice of welcome issued from his mouth.His brow was furrowed, and his cheek grew pale,While the firm pressure of his fast-closed lipTold but too well the conflict in his soul.
A moment, and his lips broke forth in soundsOf grief. He clasped her to his breast and said,"My child, my only child, how have I lovedTo gaze on thee, and think, that when the cares And ills of life would rudely press on me,Thou wouldst be near to comfort and sustain.Ay, thou hast brought me low; for I have sworn,—That vow, alas! it cannot be recalled;And I must yield thee up to Him to whomIn a rash hour I vowed to offer thee,A grateful sacrifice."
The gentle girl bent down.No prayer for life was on her parted lip:She knew her hour was come; she felt that life,With all its promised blessings, soon would close.She knew her eye on earth no more would cheerHer aged father's heart. She asked not life:But holy gratitude was in her heart,And the pure fervor of a grateful soulGlowed on her cheek and kindled in her eye;And praise was on her lips, praise to His nameWho had that day the glorious victory given.
She sought a hallowed blessing from her sire."My father! if thy lip hath sworn to HimWho hath this day brought victory to thee,Do unto me according to thy vow.O! life is sweet, and the blest consciousnessOf living for my sire, to cheer his heart,Amid its secret, silent loneliness,Comes o'er my spirit like the tones which breathedFrom a fond mother's love, in childhood's hour.But I can leave all these; there is a joyWhich far transcends all earthly bliss, the thoughtThat I may watch o'er thee in happier realms,And hover round thy couch of midnight rest. Deep, wondrous thoughts possess my secret soul,—Thoughts to which words could give no utterance,So strange, yet holy, is the strain they breathe.True as the voice of sacred prophecy,Comes to my mind, the sweet, assuring thought,That I but leave my father's fond embrace,For some bright realm where we may live and love,When this fair earth shall yield us no abode,And I may be the unseen messengerTo waft thy soul to that most blessed home.Calmly I leave thee for a few short years;And, O! it is a soothing thought to meIn my last hour of life, that thou hast gainedO'er our proud foe the glorious victory."
No tear bedimmed the lustre of her eye;Her cheek was bright as in its happiest hour.Her lips were parted in a gentle smile,That told her willingness to die for himFrom whom, at first, she drew the springs of life.