Judith's Song

Then, fir'd with Zeal, the Warriour Dame began, And thro' applauding Crouds her Accents ran. Ye rescu'd Throngs! your tuneful Tribute bring, Raise the faint Voice, and sweep the slighted String; Your various Arts, in loftiest Strains, display; A Theme like mine requires no vulgar Lay; HE is my Theme, whose great Commands prevail, When Courage, Vigour, Art and Numbers fail; At whose resistless Voice unsinew'd, yield The well-try'd Army, and well-marshall'd Field: Led by whose Hand, a safe Retreat I found, Tho' Nations rag'd, tho' Millions storm'd around. From northern Mountains, a stupendous Throng Of conqu'ring Troops, proud Assur trail'd along: Whence, Torrents stop'd forsook their wonted Shore, And, bright with Arms, our Hills look'd green no more. Inflam'd with Rage, with airy Projects vain, He threaten'd Seas of Blood, and Hills of Slain, That Flames should ravage, where the Sword shou'd spare, Nor Age, nor Sex redeem the Young or Fair: The Babe shou'd stain, with harmless Blood, the Sands, Torn from the Mother's Breast,and trembling Hands, Not the soft Maid his harden'd Breast shou'd move, Too sierce for Pity, as too rude for Love. Yet cou'd our God, his boasted Pow'r disarm, Give manly Fury to a Female Arm!

Not sanguine Youth, nor tall Gigantick Might, Fell'd the dire Tyrant in a dubious Fight: Throughout his Camp, no hostile Fires there flew, No Poison rag'd, nor missive Jav'lin flew, 'Twas Love's soft Flame, (and who cou'd Love controul?) 'Twas Beauty's Darts, o'ercame his yielding Soul, 'Twas Judith's Face—She left her gloomy Veil, While envious Custom wou'd her Charms conceal: Her sparkling Eyes, with Tears familiar grown, She gayly taught, an Office long unknown; Chearful She laid her sable Weeds aside, And, tho' She shone, She shone for Israel's Pride; She bade her Robe wave wanton with the Wind, Within the Purple Tyre her Locks confin'd, Enslav'd the Tyrant with the circling Toy, And taught the silken Texture to destroy; Her well-plac'd Gems, his fault'ring Soul o'erthrew, Her Charms disarm'd him, and her Faulchion slew. The desp'rate Scene of Death, her Hands display'd, Lost in Amaze, the Persian Chiefs survey'd; Chill'd with cold Fear the softer Mede beheld: Yet own'd her Courage, as her Charms, excell'd. From either Camp shrill Clamours pierc'd the Sky, The Shrieks of Sorrow, and the Shouts of Joy: Here, the gay Sounds of mirthfulBands were known, There, the wild Horrours of an Host o'er thrown.

Stretch'd on the Plain the slaughter'd Victims lie, Who impious dar'd JEHOVAH's Aid defy. 'Twas HE alone their haughty Rage cou'd quell, By HIM the Victors fought, the vanquish'd fell; They fought, by HIM, with ev'ry Pow'r endu'd, Force, when they struck, and Speed, when they pursu'd. HIS Praises let me sing, whose might divine No Pow'r can limit, and no Tongue define! Be HE by Age ador'd, ador'd by Youth, Whose Works are wonders, and whose Words are Truth! HE spake—the Dust an human Form receiv'd: HE breath'd—that human Form respir'd and liv'd. Who shall, great God! THY sov'reign Will restrain? Man, Dust, or Nothing, as THY Words ordain!

Tho' Earth's Foundations at THY sight give Place; Tho' deep-fix'd Mountains skip before THY Face; Quick at THY Breath tho' slinty Rocks decay, And flow, like Wax, in liquid Folds away: Yet gentle Mercy, to THY People shewn, Endears THY Sway, and gilds THY awful Throne: And, on the pious Suppliant, pleas'd to shine, Protects him, fearless midst a Pow'r like THINE.

What tho' with Gums, our Altars smoke in vain, The Fumes of Incense, and the Fat of slain; Tho' Worship's Pomp THOU can'st regardless see, And Earth's rich Fragrance breaths nosweets to THEE: Bliss still succeeds, when righteous Hands revere, The Mind untainted, and the Heart sincere.

Peace to all such! but who with impious Arms, Against THY Israel raise unjust Alarms, Shall feel THY Angel with unpitying Hand, Scatter Disease, and Tortures thro' the Land: Nor e'er returning Peace their spirits chear, Raise the sad Heart, or stay the falling Tear.