GIDEON; OR, The PATRIOT. BOOK II

'Twas Morning: and, o'er Ophra's Tow'rs, the Sun Rose lovely, with unusual Lustre bright: For, pleas'd to find the long-wish'd Task begun, His Fires glow'd sparkling, with intense Delight. But Gideon, well reflecting what was done, Restless had mus'd away the tedious Night; And from a Garden's silent Shade, look'd longing, for the Light. There Joash, risen from interrupted Rest, Found, and breath'd Blessings o'er, his pensive Son: And, now by Wonder, now by Fear, oppress'd Heard All distinctly; from the Angel's Hail, To the Grove's Ruin, and the Fall of Baal.

Gideon, said He, Prop of my failing Years! If what thy Father's doubtful Love shall speak Should seem too coldly weigh'd, too kindly weak, Think, in Excuse of what may harsh appear, Youth is too full of Hope; and Age, of Fear. He paus'd, and turn'd: and dry'd a starting Tear. 'Tis great, continued He, this Thirst of Fame! Bright, tho' dang'rous, is the Flame, That warms thy manly Breast, with this extensive Aim. But, art thou not deceiv'd, by some fair Dream? Things strongly wish'd, Men oft believe they see: For vig'rous Fancy can so subtly seem, That Nonexistence may be thought to be. If 'twas, in Truth, an Angel, thou hast seen, Joash is happy, and his Country blest: Afflicted Israel, then, shall soon find Rest: But, if my Gideon has deluded been, Then, who from Mis'ry my sad House shall screen? Who, save Thy harmless Infants, from the Sword? Thy Soul-distracting Grief, alas! will no Relief afford: Thy Punishment include a People's Fate; And thy too bold and honest Heart, be undeceiv'd, too late.

Rev'rend, and wise, reply'd th' attentive Chief, Your Doubt of Me, by past Experience mov'd, Admits, obscure, and slowly, the Belief, That I am heav'n-approv'd. Yet; coldest Caution safely may confess, Weakness, where GOD supports, can strongly bless. Nor blush, unlikely as it is, the glorious Hope to own: Occasion, oft, has latent Virtue, shown, Where Kindred's too close Sight distinguish'd none. Call'd by th' Almighty's leading Voice, I go, Fearless, amidst yon Camp, on Jezreel's Plain. Fain would I thence remove th'incumbent Foe: Their neighb'ring Weight does my warm Wish restrain. To Arms, till then, 'twere dang'rous to repair. Lest our aw'd Tribes, th'Oppressor view'd too nigh, Shrink from assum'd Resolve; disperse, and fly. You, venerable Sire! mean while, prepare Th'assembled Senate, for th'important Hope; Tell 'em, God's Promise lends Contraction Scope; The Fall of Baal, with its great Cause, declare: And charm 'em with th'inspiring News, of Heav'n's recover'd Care.

Speaking, he bow'd; and, turning swift away, Left the sad Father's Answer, half unmade. Joash broke short what Prudence meant to say: Silent look'd after him; his Words, long weigh'd; Then, stretch'd to Heav'n his aged Arms, and begs the doubted Aid. —On the North Range of Ophra's rugged Wall, Rose a round Tow'r, of white and massy Stone: Seen, from whose Summit's far-commanding View, High-posted Archers Bows unerring, drew; Thence, o'er steep Windings, aw'd the Road below, Check'd the rash Hope of an advent'rous Foe: Stopp'd Passengers, and left th' Ascent to None, Till Who they were, and whence they came, was shewn. Deep, in the vaulted Base, Life's languid Tomb! A still, damp, Dungeon lodg'd eternal Gloom. Its iron Door, which rust-worn Hinges hung, Harsh grating, through the stony Portal, swung. Echo's hard Groan threw sad Sensation round, And thought-bound Silence started, at the Sound! Painful Regard strain'd sharp her visual Ray, To catch faint Embryos, of excluded Day; Where, through thick Walls, oblique, thin Ghosts of Light, Gleam'd from pale Loop-holes, quiver'd to the Sight.

Here, well secur'd, the State her Pris'ners, kept: And here, this Night, confin'd, Prince Oreb slept. Yet, no vile Chain insulted his Restraint; Well treated, by his gen'rous Guardian's Care; Who, from Captivity, to chase Complaint, Shut out no Freedom, but of Light, and Air. Here, with swift and furious Stride, Close-folded Arms, and short and sudden Starts, The fretful Prince, in dumb and sullen Pride, Revolv'd Escape, and curs'd, in Pain, his People's coward Hearts.

So Gideon finds him: and, with gentle Grace, Accosts him thus—Great Prince! your scopeful Will Suffers Restraint, I see, but ill. Those Feet, long us'd your Enemies to chase, Spurn at Detention; and were nerv'd for Space. Tho' manly Suff'rers loud Complaint restrain, Impatient Silence paints internal Pain. But, Smiles are Wisdom, where Regret is vain. Great Minds, in Want of present Ease, Should teach some future Hope to please. Such if your Prospect, I would aid its Claim. Take, Sir, your Sword: and, from this Moment, free, Re-fire your Camp, to War's recover'd Flame: Go, ransomeless.—No Grace deserves Regard, That stoops to barter Virtue, for Reward. My noblest Gain, let This due Glory be, That He, whose erring Arms oppress'd the Free, Ow'd His own forfeit Liberty, to me.

The silent Prince, whom this new Chance alarms, Stood fix'd, awhile, with an astonish'd Air: Then, swift advancing, snatch'd him to his Arms. O Baal! he cry'd, How much, in War, they dare! Yet, after Victory, how mild, they are! Why am I hostile, to such manly Charms? More he had said, but Gideon, whose warm Mind Flash'd its first Greatness o'er his Captive's Soul, And schem'd a length'ning Lustre, yet behind; Thus interrupted, ere he spoke the Whole. Nations ill taught make War a barb'rous Trade: But Men who fight for Liberty, and Peace, When their Arms prosper, by th' Almighty's Aid, Feel their Revenge impow'r'd: and bid it cease. Near is your Camp. Yet, lest th'impeded Way Prove dang'rous, while this Mountain you descend, Myself, your Safeguard, will your Steps attend. Charg'd with ALLIANCE, offer'd to your State, Let your met Kings, th'auxiliar Purpose weigh, Hold us Confed'rate, and retract their Hate. Pledge me your Royal Faith, lest slight Pretence Bids Force detain me: or, returning, thence, Some ambush'd Wrong provokes unwish'd Offence. — By the high thund'ring Baal! the Prince reply'd, By blood-stain'd Moloch!—pale Astarte's Beam! Hot Belial! and whole Heav'n's collective Host! Gods, Male and Female, who yon Realms divide! Those, whom We worship! Him, of whom You dream! And whose joint Aid is warlike Midian's Boast: All, who shall dare Thy Wrong, My Sword defies. Thou shalt be safe: or Oreb, with thee, dies.

He spoke: and stooping through a Postern Gate, Which, from the Tow'r, led, winding, down the Hill, Gideon, descending, with eductive Skill, Steers his Companion, 'twixt the mazy Rocks, And the deep Cleavings of the Hill unlocks. Dark'ning and cool, beneath th'incumbent Shade Of goat-browz'd Bushes; which, in Sylvan State, Bow'd, by their own declining Weight, Hung deep'ning o'er the ragged Cliffs, and in the Breezes play'd; A short, unpeopled, Path, their Feet explore; High from whose shelvy Steeps far round, hoarse-tumbling Torrents roar. Down, cross the craggy Lab'rinth, safely flow, From Rock to Rock they slide; from Shade to Shade; Each lending Other, heedful Aid: Till, from the Glooms of their untrodden Way, As Men, from Night, wake sudden, into Day, They saw the silver Stream, at Distance, flow: And flash'd upon the op'ning Plain, below.

Now, on the Valley's Edge, th'egressive Pair Outstarting, spy'd, from far, a dusty Cloud, Which wid'ning circled tow'rd 'em, in the Air; And half conceal'd a wild and noisy Crowd, Through which, the Ring of brazen Wheels, was heard distinct and loud. When to the River, unobserv'd, they came, They found the Charioteers of Oreb, there: Wat'ring their wanton Steeds, with heedless Aim. Wide-dispers'd, and loose, they were: Thoughtless of Danger, All, and void of Care. The Prince beheld 'em, with indignant Shame: His Pride felt Anguish, and his Eyes shot Flame. Unwary Slaves! he cry'd—Is This the Way? Retrieve Ye, thus, the Fame so lately lost? My Coward Foot, in Arms, their Prince, betray: My Horse, untaught by their Companion's Cost, Regardless Negligence, un-arm'd, display: And long to be as infamous, as They! Why met I not your Outguards, posted here? What, on this Quarter, thus expos'd, our neighb'ring Camp, defends? Since, for me, the Road was clear, What, if the Foe lay ambush'd, near? Wretches! is yon strong Mountain held, by Friends? His People heard him, with a glad Surprize: Mix'd, in their Breasts, the vary'd Passions rise: But Joy, triumphant, stifling Sense of Shame, A Storm of Shouts rose ceaseless, to the Skies: Echoing, the bord'ring Hills th'Alarm proclaim, And the wide Valley rings, with Oreb's Name.

High, on an open Chariot's airy Seat, In State, the Prince and Gideon onward ride: Re-closing swift, th'outstarted Squadrons meet, And flow behind 'em, like a following Tide. Pour'd from the Camp, the mingled Nations roar, Sweeping, tumultuous, o'er the dusty Plain: Loose Horse and Foot, in stretch'd Extent, still length'ning more and more, In endless Chain of Triumph, swell the Train. But, when Both Swarms met mix'd, upon the Green, And Oreb's high-rais'd Chariot shone, between: Should'ring, the clam'rous Concourse gather'd round, And clogg'd his Progress, and o'erwedg'd his Ground: Slow mov'd th'incumber'd Pomp, through deaf'ning Noise; And the Prince labour'd, with the People's Joys. So, when, within some Island's sea-wash'd Streight, A Bark, with full-blown Canvas, holds her Course, Two billowy Currents urge encount'ring Weight; And, swell'd to Uproar by cross Clash of Tides; Roll murm'ring on; and, climbing wild and hoarse, Work o'er Each Other, with contending Force: Heav'd through ascending Foam, the way-stop'd Vessel rides, And scarce, with All her bellying Sails, th'encircling Roar, divides.

Safe, to th'expecting Camp, at last, they come, Where, waiting, All th'assembled Chiefs, they found; There, did Joy's liveliest Ecstasies abound: And false Congratulation, too, bow'd formal, to the Ground. From Ev'ry Side at once, the thund'ring Drum Beat his hoarse Welcome; while, in shriller Sound, The Trumpet's soft and trembling Note flow'd undulating round. White, on a smooth and gently rising Hill Full in the Centre of the Camp, was pitch'd One crown'd Pavilion, of unmatch'd Extent; Lin'd with an azure Field of Silk, by crimson Groves enrich'd: Whence gold and purple Fruits, in Clusters bent, Fed the charm'd Eye, with feastful Ornament. Three Walls, of circly green, th'imperial Tent, Guarded at equal Distances, invest: Wide, round th'exterior Third, lay, far outspread, Smooth Void, whose silent Range admits no vulgar Tread: For, there, th'associate Monarch's Feet the hallow'd Surface press'd.

Hither, to Council, while they bent their Way, In his right Hand, Prince Oreb, Gideon, led: The graceful Hebrew march'd at Ease, and gay; And from his Eyes a radiant Sweetness, shed. Circled by Kings, and taller, by the Head, His native Majesty eclips'd their Pride: A Leopard's Skin, the Paws, together, ty'd, Dreadfully gay, was o'er his Shoulder, spread: And, to the Right, slop'd pendent, from his Side. A rich wide-skirted Crimson Vest O'er-wrap'd, with conscious Glow, his manly Breast: Girt by a purple, silver-studded Belt; In which his fated Sword at Freedom hung. While, at each Step, his Arm, was gently swung, The low-poiz'd Spear, majestic, seem'd to nod: And sway'd, with threat'ning Grandeur, as he trod. Cool, o'er his fair and bloom-enliven'd Face, A jet-black Plume wav'd slow, with shadowy Grace.

Now, round the enter'd Umbrage, marching slow, The Royal Brotherhood their Places, fill. Encircling Legions edge the Plain below: O'er whose close Heads unfurling Ensigns flow; And, from th'important Space to ward off Ill, A steely Grove of glitt'ring Spears rise round the dreadful Hill. From the Tent-door, a Chief his Jav'lin shook, And thrice distinctly sounded on his Shield: The watchful Guards the well-known Signal took, And rung it downward, through the war-dress'd Field. Silenc'd, the distant Soldiers sit, and wait Th' Event of All their Sov'reign's joint Debate. Gradual, the floating Roar of War subsides, And sinking Clamour draws back All her Tides. Soft, the sweet Trumpet's Echoes die away; And the yet murm'ring Drum, unwilling sleeps: Through the still Air, thin-body'd Whispers play; And voiceless, o'er the awe-hush'd Camp, profound Attention creeps.

Then Oreb, glowing gen'rous, thus began: Brothers in War! Kings, of confed'rate Sway! Lend Action Ev'ry grateful Pow'r you can: Words are too weak, to thank this godlike Man. If, to behold me here, alive, To-day, Aids your Arm's Prospect, and you wish to know, From what kind Source, my future Hope must flow, 'Twill sound surprising, in your Royal Ear, That when, unman'd by a repulsive Fear, Despairing Friends abandon'd Fame, and Me; This wond'rous Foe, this Hebrew, whom you see, Conquer'd, to save; and set me free! Then, touch'd with Warmth, but to the Gen'rous known, He told his People's Flight: told, how, Alone, He stop'd the Hebrews, with the Giant Stone. Told, how he fought, escap'd; and, from the Cave, Pursuing Others, lost Himself, again: Told, how his Conqueror, serenely brave, Ransomless, his Freedom, gave. And, shall, said He, this glorious Act, but, empty Praise, obtain? No.—Tho' th'unvenal Benefactor's Mind Flow'd out on Virtue, ev'n for Virtue's Sake, They, whom such stainless Obligations bind, Should doubly weigh the Worth, of All they take: And, where they find the Debt without Allay, With tenfold Gratitude, make Haste to pay. He paus'd: —and, with a loud, concurrent, Praise, Spread, on the Breast, his Hand, Each Monarch lays: Jointly oblig'd, Each sep'rate, Vows Regard; And bids the Stranger name his wish'd Reward.

Gideon smil'd satisfy'd: and, bowing low, Reply'd—Great Kings! you Nothing owe. Light were His Virtue, and of narrow Scope, Who weigh'd his Sense of Duty, by his Hope. Much you o'er-rate a Mark of due Respect: Bless'd, as I was, to snatch th'important Care, A Prince, of MIDIAN, to protect! Esteem it but an Instance of That Pride, With which our Tribes remember, who you are. Nor think me vain, th'Occasion, so, supply'd, If I remind you, we are near ally'd. —Midian, the mighty Founder of your Name, Was, ev'n as Isaac was, our ABR'AM's Son. Both had an equal Start, and Spur, to Fame: Both, in one Father's Blessing, equal Claim: Tho', (thence our Grief!) in diff'rent Paths, to run. O, Power, of Custom! Law, Religion! Place! Little, alas! our common Parent thought, His time-chang'd Sons, unmindful of their Race, In diff'rent Lands, a diff'rent Int'rest taught, With hostile Rancour, should Each Other chase; And Wan, fraternal Glory to efface! But, Heav'n be thank'd. It was not, always, so.— When from proud Egypt's hard Oppression, led, When, deep through desart Wastes, compell'd to go, Kind MIDIAN taught our cherish'd Feet to tread: Even to these Plains where Midian now, encamps, our fiercest Foe, We were, by Midian, led. When hospitable JETHRO'—Hail, great Name! You know it, mighty Princes!—for, you claim Deriv'd Succession, both in Blood and Fame; When He, kind Guide! left Country, Power, and Ease, Our March's Guardian, through its hard Degrees! Even to This Canaan, whence, (oh, Force, of Years!) You strive to root us out, in Blood, and Tears: He knew, that Midian's Sons, with Israel's join'd, Were Brothers, parted long, and re-combin'd. Doubtless, his Wisdom had found good, to weigh, That Countries, given to Abr'am's general Race, Might not alone be soonest won, By Deeds of War conjointly done; But, that, so conquer'd, such Extent of Space Might stretch joint Blessing, for our mix'd Embrace. Israel, he knew, no sep'rate Claim, could lay, Since Midian's Race had Abr'am's Right, as notedly as They. Why are we Foes then?—Arm'd, on Midian's Side, Lead us to Realms, whose Wealth we might divide. As yet, the poorest Part of Canaan's ours: Her western Coast defies even Midian's Powers. Wide, from Gaza, Northward, spread, Lie Countries we regard with Dread. Who has not heard of SIDON's boastful State? And the proud Opulence of tradeful TYRE? We, barrenly confin'd to inland Rocks, Unhappily are warr'd on, by our Friends: They, unexpos'd to hostile Shocks, Bribing Indemnity, when Pride offends, On foodful Pastures shear unnumber'd Flocks: And, safe, in all the Insolence of Peace, Grasp golden Plenty: and provoke Increase.

Oreb, with sympathetic Rapture fir'd, Starts from his Seat, impell'd by Gideon's Flame: Shall Hebrews, then, by alien Gods inspir'd, For hostile Midian, point out Paths to Fame! BAAL moves 'em!—I attest His dreadful Name: Blast He my Fortune, if, by me requir'd, This Hebrew's Hint re-starts my favourite Aim! Since, lately, half-resolv'd, we weigh'd this Scheme, Let us no longer willing Friends oppress: 'Tis Reason's Debt, Esteemers to esteem. Pay not propos'd Attachment, with Distress. Grant aidful Israel her indulg'd Desire: And turn War's Thunder on devoted Tyre. A few Days March conducts us to her Walls, Open, the Road; the Country stor'd, and gay, Sheds wanton Plenty o'er th'inviting Way. What can we want then?—Haste, at once, away. Surpris'd defenceless, now, while Fortune calls, All Hope forsakes 'em: and their City falls.

Grave from his Place rose Zeb, in formal State: Heavy with Age; yet, Age his smallest Weight. Fortune had given him only Bliss to bear: But Nature heap'd him with a Load, of Care. His parsimonious Soul but ill could scan The Diff'rence, 'twixt the Monarch, and the Man. Courage he wanted not: but held in vain— For, his chief End, in every War, was Gain. Deep, in his labour-furrow'd Look, his Av'rice stood engrav'd: And even his Silence told the Eye, he crav'd. This Tyrian War, says He, has my Consent. Rich is the Country: praiseful the Intent. Since Israel's Right of Kindred, we confess, Let us her Poverty no harder press. E'en let her, once for All, her Tribes assess: And, gath'ring friendly what she can, buy off th'undue Distress. Pity pleads for 'em. We can do no less Than let 'em hold, in Peace, their thin Remains. Spare the poor Penitents.—Alas! Their Plains Were, long since, Ours; Their Mountains yield small Gains: And lean Contention is not worth our Pains. Sidon and Tyre with endless Wealth abound: A thriving People! skill'd in gainful Arts! Commerce their Treas'ry fills: Herds hide their Ground. Trade a big Weakness proudfully imparts: But trembling Hands ill guard presumptuous Hearts.

Agag, of Amalek, sat next: A Prince, of temper'd Courage; wisely cold. No rising Passion His slow Thought perplex'd: Doubtful, with Vigour, and with Caution, bold. A long Experience taught him to suspect: He fear'd All Counsels; but would none neglect. Justly he weigh'd: and did, with Choice, reject. Alike 'twould grieve me, the wise Prince began, To miss the Meaning, or mistake the Man. Yet, least errs He, who weigh'd Conclusion draws; And, seeking Consequence, looks back to Cause. Mischief, disguis'd, may deep and dang'rous lie: Pow'rless to hurt when obvious to the Eye. Grant us of Strength to shake the Walls of Tyre: Grant the March short: Have we not Foes, still nigher? These Hebrews, wisely weary of us here, Kindly provide us nobler Conquests, near. Strong is our Hope: but stronger is Their Fear. Old Claims of Blood, from Dates so sunk in Time, Impel but faintly, where no Int'rest leads. One Step still higher, retrorsive let 'em climb, And, since so strongly Kindred pleads, CANAAN's whole Offspring, ev'n her TYRIAN Race, Name Parent Noah, but, in Abr'am's Place, Are Midian's Brothers, with like Claim to Grace. Last Night—nor think Night Visions always vain; Oft, they the Wills of silent Gods, explain. Last Night, This strange, this thrice-repeated Dream, Harrow'd my aking Fancy, with the Sight Of air-form'd Shapes, that chill'd my Soul to Fright! For, ne'er did Shadows so substantial, seem! I saw you, Princes! in th'imperial Tent Assembled, as we now, collective, meet, And on like Business bent: When, from yon sable Mountain's dire Descent, Fast in Pursuit of warlike Oreb's Feet, Roll'd a mean rustic Loaf, of Hebrew Bread. On-bigg'ning, into monstrous Bulk It spread; Till, gradual, an unbounded Pile, It grew: Whelming its Way, These Royal Seats o'erthrew. Then, rumbling, thunder-like, resistless, round, Swept the crush'd Camp before it, to the Ground. Taught, by such Dreams— —There, Oreb held, no more: But, rising stormy, look'd him scornful o'er. Take heed, presumptuous Prince! nor dare, said He, Oblique, to glance reproachful Doubt, at me. Dream for Thyself: hintful of base Distrust, Creep beneath Faith, through allegoric Dust. Souls, sagely impotent, or darkly cold, Ever suspicious, thus alarm'd, behold Th'uncover'd Climb, of Honour's active Flame: And dive through Virtue, for some mystic Aim. Dishonest Mark, of an infected Mind! Whom should I fear? What View shall I conceal? Who shall prevent, where Oreb has design'd? Or, what, resolving, shuns he to reveal? No.—Be it left to cautious Lumps, like Thee, To veil fear'd Truths, or through False Mediums see; My Heart's hot Beat on its felt Strength, relies; And flames too furious, to admit Disguise. But, by revenging Baal!—

—There, Zebah rose: A Man of Noise, and apt to interpose. Vain-glorious, insolent, and rashly brave! His Courage, deaf to Danger, sought his Foes: But, to his Friends, unsure Dependence gave; Bold, to destroy: but ign'rant how to save! Impetuous he began; and stream'd in Tongue: Round roll'd his Eyeballs; and his Arms, in tum'rous Gesture, swung. Oreb watch'd stern, for what He meant to say: And Agag, half-enrag'd, before, now smil'd his Warmth away. What! must we, thus, in civil Broils engage? And can we find no foreign Wars, to wage? Last, let us jarr: nor will it then be vain, When None to conquer, but Ourselves, remain. But, let us, first, march on, to shining Tyre: And leave Her brighter, in her fun'ral Fire. I hate her: proud Engrosser of the Seas! The wafted Pilf'rer floats from Shore to Shore; Freighted for Luxury, and choak'd with Store While we, far nobler, dumbly unrenown'd, Short-elbow'ing, from our Mountain's circly Bound, Harrass, with faint and fameless Force, the hardy Nations, round. Were Navies ours, what could not Midian do? Then, might we Toils worth bleeding for, pursue: Find some new World, possess, and drain it, too: And spread the Glory of our Arms, where Fame, yet, never flew. Now, barr'd by Rocks, or hemm'd by barren Sands, Why call'd they happy such secluded Lands? Our crouded Hive ejects reluctant Swarms. But, when yon Eastern Ocean's Depth, behind, Shall groan beneath th'Excursion of our Arms; Or, o'er th'Atlantic West, we Outlet find; Then shall we grasp a Pow'r, like Zebah's Mind! Then shall the Nations trembling ask, what Midian has design'd: And our wide-dreaded Name be heard, in Ev'ry changing Wind. Since Agag, safely cautious, shuns to go, And sees sure Danger, in an untry'd Foe, Be it His guardian Task, to watch, behind: Distinct, in two strong Pow'rs, our Army, led, At once, shall hold yon Hebrew Dames confin'd, High, on their Mountain's wholsome Tops, to whiten, in the Wind; And shake presumptuous Tyre, with Midian's Dread: Faint-hearted Slaves, in their own Purple bred; By Pleasure soften'd, and by Plenty fed: Our tawny Soldier's iron Front, shall look the Miscreants dead.

Zalmunna smil'd, at Zebah's hope-wing'd Flight, And spoke, resolv'd to close the warm Debate. This Prince assum'd an all-superior Might: Honour'd in chief, by Each divided State; Tho', by Descent, and Right of nat'ral Claim, Lord but of One, to the mix'd War, he came. Haughty and fierce, his daring Bosom felt A savage Pleasure, in the Wastes of Woe: His cruel craft-revolving Depth of Mind Dark distant Schemes, of tyrant Reach, design'd: No Warmth of Pity his hard Heart could melt; All Things were just, which rid him of a Foe: All was beneath him, in the World below: And Heav'n but bow'd to, that it might bestow. Princes! said He, well-judg'd, Your Hopes appear. Yet, you misconstrue Agag's Caution, Fear. Skill'd in Discernment, let the WISE detect, And point out Dangers, for the BRAVE's Neglect. On, to the West: be Tyre's proud State defy'd. Israel, oft already try'd, Dares nothing: or must dare on Midian's Side. Phoenicia's peopled Coast, This March makes Ours. Then lie These Hebrews central, 'twixt our Pow'rs. Southward and Eastward, we, already, spread, And edge their Tribes, with a removeless Dread. Northward, accessless Hills run rough'ning on, From Arnon's Ridge, to ced'ry Lebanon: Add the wish'd West; and the Sea's subject Roar Salutes stretch'd Midian, and adorns her Shore. So, hemm'd on ev'ry Side, and, each Way, near, Hope Israel's Service; and conclude her Fear. Peacefully safe, a Vassal, calm and still: Or conquer'd Rebel, to be crush'd, at Will. Hebrew! return: and, soon as thou shalt hear That our resistless Arms encompass Tyre, Bid your Twelve Tribes chuse, Each, a Legate, fit To kneel before us with their joint Desire. Hope, then, what Terms Compassion can admit: Away.—Find Comfort: and your Caverns quit. Princes! debate no more. It stands decreed. Sidon must fall: and purply Tyre shall bleed. Baal! bless To-morrow's Dawn; safe-guard Thy Host! Push we the March, ere Spies alarm their Coast. Gideon glow'd secret; pleas'd, prophetic, gay: And Each King, rising, mov'd, a sep'rate Way. But, Oreb's gen'rous Heart, humanely bent, Studious to entertain his Hebrew Friend, Led him, impatient, to his feastful Tent: Where social Hours, in charmful Converse spent, Brought the pleas'd Day to an unwilling End.

All Night, the Camp hums loud, with murm'ring Swarms, And rings with Echoes, from the hammer'd Arms. Through ev'ry Quarter, hurrying Concourse pours: And Preparation toils away the Hours. At last, the chearful Morning's op'ning Eye Glows, through the solemn Shade, from high: Hov'ring, and moist, attracted Vapours rise. Then, the Sun's Outset, seen and hail'd, with day-discov'ring Cries, In worship'd Pomp, rolls glorious up, to Sight: And ev'ry ray-touch'd Mountain smiles, and ev'ry Field looks bright. First, the loud Drums a solemn Warning beat, And Each rous'd Soldier, prompt to War's Alarms, Strong, for the notic'd Movement, girds his Feet: Then, the shrill-starting Trumpet sounds to Arms; And All the swarthy Nations run, and at their Standards meet. Slow, move the cumb'rous Waggons, long in Train, And, dull of Motion, creek with Weight; and labour o'er the Plain. Next, loaded high, the bunchy Camels go; Stepping, with strait-rais'd Neck, sublimely slow: One loose-ty'd Length of living Line, in stretch'd and endless Row. With These, for Safeguard from th'attempting Foe, Selected Bands, of active Horsemen, ride: A dreadful Battle-ax adorns each Side; And each right Hand, a double-pointed Spear, To dart a distant Death, or guide one, near. These, first, off-filing, the whole following Host Receiv'd joint Signal, and to move began: Each in his Turn, wheel'd martial, from his Post, Rank behind Rank, and Man preceding Man.

Seen, from a Chariot, on a rising Ground, Along whose Range the Army must ascend; Or, near, beneath whose Brow their Way they found, Oreb sat mounted, with his Hebrew Friend. Thence, as the Squadrons pass'd, with courteous Care, Inform'd him, whence they came, and whose they were. My Friend, said he, for, from this happy Day, Let us forever, mutual, share That Name: It joys me, that our Forces march away, And yield wish'd Peace, to Israel's future Claim. Swift let your Legates sent, firm Contract, bind. Proud and imperious is Zalmunna's Mind! But I, to aid your Envoy's purpos'd Pray'r, Will, with a warm and well-asserted Care, Curb his malignant Hate; and make him kind. Mean while, this fair Occasion, safely take, To sit, and well observe our martial Host. No Strength, brave Nations, thus ally'd, can break. Such Weight oppressing, if we felt you shake, This Truth, confess'd, secures your Country's Praise; Sev'n Years assaulted, you withstood us, All: While in perhaps as few triumphant Days, Before our death-diminish'd Pow'r, the Pride of Tyre shall fall. All the wide Bosom of the spacious East Had empty'd her Best Spirits, on your Land: 'Tis true, by Time's wide Waste, and War's, decreas'd, Many have fall'n: nor has my Loss been least. Yet shall you see the Numbers we command Thick, as the Locusts in the Wind, and countless as the Sand. Be it your Glory, you could Kings, withstand, Who grasp'd your State with such a nervous Hand.

In Five broad Lines, th'advancing Army moves. For, where smooth Plains extend unbroken Way, Wide Order, ev'ry practis'd Chief approves; As least expos'd, so stretch'd, in form'd Array, And making double Marches, ev'ry Day. See, clear 'twixt Line and Line, what Space we leave: Some Furlong's Interval, unfill'd and free: Hence, no Impression, we, when charg'd, receive, Can, through more Lines than One, extended be: But All, each other, aptly may relieve; And, where One shrinks, th'advancing Next retrieve. Mark this approaching Front, with heedful Care. My Ensigns only, All These Squadrons bear. I know not how, of late, so chang'd, they were! They want not Skill: and have been us'd to dare. See, how their Wings with Iron Chariots shine! On either Horn Four hundred. Each of These Bears Two arm'd Drivers, whom Three Horses draw, Train'd to give Charge in a broad-breasted Line. Impatient of the Curb, they bound, and paw! From each strong Point of death-arm'd Axle-trees, Sharp-cutting Seythes emerge, with edgy Slant: These, in revertive Bend, we move, at Ease; Rais'd, or declin'd, as the skill'd Guiders please. But, when out-driv'n, to rush upon the Foe, Rattling aloud their brazen Wheels advance, How weak and useless are the Sword and Lance! Rider and Horse, cut through, they overthrow: And while the shaft-arm'd Archers, from within, Point missive Deaths, in dreadful Tempest, round, The loose-main'd Coursers, with impetuous Din, Burst through the Ranks, and thunder o'er the Ground, With rapid Motion some, they trample down: Others, who, thronging back, evade their Force, The raz'ry Scythes with reeking Edges sweep; And mow destructive, in their bloody Course. Of these Eight hundred, which you, passing, see, Six hundred have no other Lord, but me. Two hundred, watry Moab's Monarch owns: Our Lands conjoin: confed'rate are our Thrones.

Now, mark my Foot: in Three Divisions led The Midmost holds my Country's bravest Sons: Firm Souls; to great and long-try'd Dangers, bred. Cross our Dominions, ridgy Gilead runs: Gilead, whose Groves sweat sov'reign Balm, to heal The Wounds, her brave Defenders rush to feel. Twelve thousand These; who, once, in Arms unskill'd, The palm-producing Plains of Midian till'd. Or scoop'd fall'n Cedars, on her Mountain's Side: And, in light Floats, on fishy Arnon, ply'd. Those to the right, confed'rate Moab sends, Eight thousand Spearmen, arm'd in radiant Steel: Bold Hiram leads 'em; Midian's high-priz'd Friends! We love their Courage: nor their Worth conceal. Near fenny Nebo, and moist Hesbon, They, Cities, loudly known to Fame! Dwell in deep Vales, whose rich, but stubborn, Clay Does strong Resemblance to their Nature claim: Valiant; but hardly modell'd to obey! Who has not heard what Giants they o'erthrew? Emims and Anakims, of duskiest Hue! Broad-striding Champions! big-bon'd Monsters, All! Hard, as their Oaks: and, as their Cedars, tall! Near us here, my Foot's firm Left Contains five thousand, Aids, from Ammon sent. North-East, from Moab, bord'ring Ammon lies: These also, Giants, of their Land bereft. Ev'n to this Day, the Realm, a Giant Race, supplies. In Rabba's Town, a Proof of strange Extent! The iron Bed of Og, may, yet, be seen: In Length, Nine Cubits—Four such Cubits, wide! You know the Story well. His fatal Pride, Vast, as his Bulk, your happier Arms defy'd: And, by the Hand of your Great Chief, he dy'd. On their Hill's healthy Top, delightfully serene, A Soil, with Sage, and Rue, and Wormwood, green, Their luckless Balak stood to curse your Race: When Balaam bless'd you, to his Lord's Disgrace. These three distinct Divisions, I command; Our Army's first, and not her weakest, Line. Warm Emulation flames, through ev'ry Band: Fearless of Death, in War's lov'd Pomp they shine. See! how through Clouds of Dust they march: nor Heat, nor Labour, shun! With glowing Temples urge their Way, and sparkle, in the Sun!

But look!—the Army's Second Line comes on. These, too, from Midian, mighty Founder! spring. Hard, as their hilly Country's native Stone, They serve a rich, but an ungen'rous, King. Mean as their Monarch's Mind; their Dress, how plain! Zeb's homely Spirit, in his plumeless Train. Five thousand Foot, thrice told, this Prince attend. Three thousand Slingers, upon Camels, ride. From This rais'd Centre, his Foot Cohorts bend, And, Right and Left, two equal Wings, extend: Which, rounding forward, Each with sharp'ning End, In hollow Compass, deep, at once, and wide, March, like a Crescent, in whose midst, their sullen Prince they hide, Experienc'd Archers, These. Their left Hands bear Tough and springy Bows, of Steel. Arms of slender Proof they wear: And the big Shield's safe Weight abhor to feel. Across their Shoulders, loose, with careless Air, Hang Quivers, stor'd with Arrows sharp and strong: Hark! how they sound, as they step swift along. From rock-built Selah, a secure Defence, For weak-soul'd Avarice, and Wealth immense, These half-dress'd, rough, unsightly Squadrons came: Neighbours to Hor, a Desart known to Fame For many a Chance! with one, by you, supply'd: 'Twas there, your venerable Aaron dy'd. Southward, from Moab's Plain, the Region runs: And borders, eastward, upon Edom's Sons. Barren of Corn: a harsh, ill-water'd Soil, Where Lab'rers, un-refresh'd, would die with Toil; Did not rich Vineyards round the Mountains twine, And float the thirsty Glebe, with Floods of Wine.

See, next, in haughty State, with conscious Pride, Sov'reign Zalmunna's tow'rd us, tow'ring, ride. Bounding, he leads our midmost Squadrons on: Too wide extended, to be half discern'd. This Monarch, who supreme Pretence, has won, In the dark Myst'ries of Ambition, learn'd, Rules but, by native Right, a distant Land: Midian's utmost Southern Bound; Along the rich Red Sea's indented Strand— Wide, that Tract, his Realms surround, Where your Great Moses, JETHRO's Daughters, found. A Soil, that does with Ev'ry Growth abound, Tho' streak'd with tiresome Veins, of fruitless Sand, Ten thousand Horse, This mighty Sov'reign brings: Nervously rapid, as the Eagle's Wings! See! how, in Heat of Blood, they paw the Ground: And champ the Bit, and Sidelong prance: And tear up half the Plain, as they advance! His Foot, that, bright in Armour, wing those Horse, Are Thrice ten thousand, fam'd for wily Force: Unweary'd Veterans, of fearless Heart, All, deeply practis'd, in War's bloodiest Art: Us'd to All Arms; and try'd, in ev'ry Part. These Chariots, which, upon their Left, roll by, Obscur'd by Hills of Dust, which, with 'em, fly; Are Six dread Hundreds, arm'd and guided well: The same stretch'd Number, wid'ning from their Right, Would terrify your wond'ring Sight; But the long Distance tires the aking Eye. Zalmunna's Pow'r does All the King's excel: And what his Strength, and what his Aim, 'tis Time alone can tell.

But, This Way now, direct thy Eye; Where Agag, on his silver Chariot rides: Shining far, and seated high. Four milk-white Coursers, with hot-panting Sides, Vex'd to be curb'd, and struggling with the Rein, Draw him disdainful, o'er the smoaking Plain. This Prince is Lord of Amalek's wide State: His Seat is Pharan, and his Empire great. Arabia's, midmost, rocky Tract, He sways, Peopled by one of Ishmael's wand'ring Stems; Call'd Hagareens, from Hagar, Abra'm's Maid; The swarthy Mother of this rugged Race. Northward, his Lands, the wind-mov'd Desart hems: Where wandring Hords, in shifting Cities, dwell, Safe from the Sun, beneath their canvas Shade; Thence, swift as Roes, the Savage Wilds invade, To hunt the lordly Lion, from his Cell. Three thousand Horse, This crafty Monarch guides: Each a skill'd Archer, who, in rapid Flight, Turns in his Seat, and dext'rous, as he rides, Aims his Shaft backward, with a dreadful Slight, And, flying, kills more surely, than in Fight. These, in two dusky Cornets, sweep along; Wings, to That Centre, which, between, you see: Firm-wedg'd with hardy Foot, rang'd deep, and strong. Four times Five thousand, they are said to be: Abstemious Highlanders, All rough of Soul; Patient of Toil, but restive in Controul.

Rash Zebah, last, brings up the gloomy Rear, Impetuous as a Tempest arm'd with Hail! All Passions shake him, in their Turns, but Fear: O'er his warm Hope, no Danger can prevail. Mark, with what martial Majesty he treads! Arm'd with a Spear, and looking fiercely round, On-foot, his Twenty thousand Foot, he heads: And measures slowly the unheeded Ground. Four hundred noisy CHARIOTS wing this Band: And, yonder, boasting the same Chief's Command, Six thousand Horsemen, loosely spread, behind, Close the gay March: and, with elated Mind, Lift their high Standards, to the following Wind. Happy Arabia's aromatic Plains Stretch their sweet Bosoms, where this Monarch reigns: There, the rich Hills a gummy Harvest, shed; And Myrrh and Frankincense the Groves o'erspread. Ev'n from their Beasts, a musky Vapour flows: And the Spice-breathing Wind, with am'rous Softness, blows. From their broad Heaths, wild Thyme, and Camomil, Their coarsest Air, with breezy Fragrance, fill. Physic's wide Want, this druggy Tract supplies: Let the sick Elephant lie down to roll, From the crush'd Couch, balsamic Odours rise: And the snuff'd Scent revives his savage Soul.

As when some sudden News alarms a State, Of threat'ning Consequence, and full of Fear; All meaner Cares and Themes, suspended, wait: While This alone does worth Regard, appear. But, when by slow Degrees, the Rumour dies, And thought-recov'ring Crouds expect no more; Each to his proper Task his Care applies: And All is hush'd and languid, as before. So, while the Prince and Gideon heard the Noise, And saw the swarmy Legions passing by, No other Sound their hurry'd Ear employs; No other Object fills their busy Eye. But now, the Army past, the Sound scarce heard, And, each chang'd Prospect roll'd in Dust away, Pleas'd, they observe the Plains about 'em clear'd; The chearful Birds, above their Chariot, play: And Nature smiling round 'em, stilly gay. Then, Oreb, rising from his Chariot-Seat, Beck'ning, gave Sign, to a well-mounted Band; Which, shadow'd by a Grove's serene Retreat, At Distance, waited their lov'd Chief's Command. Sudden, they move; and closing in, behind, The Prince, reseated, shakes the loosen'd Rein: Fleet, his Horses, as the Wind, With sounding Hoofs, fly rapid o'er the Plain.

While to the guarded Mountain's barr'd Ascent, Their eye-directed Way they bent, To Gideon, thus the gen'rous Oreb spoke: Since my illustrious Friend declines to take Such due Returns as grateful Sense would make, And merits Honour, but, for Virtue's Sake, What shall I do, to shew him my Regard Of Greatness, I confess, above Reward! It must be left to Time, and Chance, to find Some vast Occasion, for my Thanks design'd: Till when, the Debt must rest unpaid, to load my struggling Mind. Mean while; and, there, he from his Finger drew A Ring, that glitter'd, with a dazling Ray, From the most radiant Gem, that ere, in orient Quarries grew: Wear This—in Mem'ry, but, of what I owe; And, that I mean to pay.

Gideon, long-press'd, at last, averse, gave Way, And smil'd, with thankful Grace: when, hid below, On the Hill's Side, appear'd a Hebrew Band: Which, by the late Attempt, instructed well, Under a wary Chief's Command, Took Place, the Night before, to watch what pass'd, And future Mischief, in th'Advance, repel. These Gideon saw: and from the Chariot stept; Swift after him, Prince Oreb leapt: And, with a zealous Warmth of Heart, embrac'd. Then, courteous, took his Leave: and, all in Haste, Remounting, turn'd his Horses tow'rd the Host: And reach'd it soon, and foremost shone; conspicuous in his Post.