Alexandria Gazette & Advertiser

POETRY

JEPTHA'S RASH VOW,

Versified from the 11th chapter of Judges, by a
young lady of Massachusetts.

The battle had ceas'd and the vict'ry was won,
The wild cry of horror was o'er;
Now arose in his glory, the bright beaming sun,
And with him his journey the war chief begun,
With a soul breathing vengeance no more,
The foes of his country lay strew'd on the plain,
A tear stole its course from his eye;
The warrior disdain'd ev'ry semblance of pain,
He thought of his child - of his country again,
And suppress'd, while 'twas forming, a sigh.

"Oh, Father of light!" said the conquering
chief,
"The vow which I made I renew;
"Twas thy powerful arm gave the welcome
relief,
When I called on thy name in the fulness of
My grief,
"And my hopes were but cheerless and few."

An offering of love will I pay to thy name,
"An offering thou wilt not despise;
"The first being I meet when I welcome
gain
"The land of my fathers, I left not in vain,
"With the flames on thine altar shall rise."

Now hushed were his words; through the far
spreading bands
Nought was heard, save the foot fall around;
Till his lips in wild joy press his own native
lands,
And to Heaven are lifted his trembling hands,
While the silence is still and profound.

Oh listen! at distance what wild music sounds,
And at distance, what maiden appears!
See! forward she comes with a light springing
bound,
And casts her mild eyes in fond extacy round,
For a parent is seen thro' her tears.

Her harp's wildest thrill gave a strain of
delight,
A moment - she springs to his arms;
"My daughter - Oh God!" Not the horror
of
fight,
While legions on legions against him unite,
Could bring to his soul such alarms.

In wild horror he starts, as a fiend had
appeared,
His eyes in mute agony close;
His sword o'er his age-frosted forehead is
rear'd,
Which with scars from his many fought
battles is sear'd,
Nor his country or daughter he knows.

But sudden conviction in quick flashes told
That that daughter was destined to die!
Oh, no longer could nature the will struggled
hold,
His grief issued forth unconstrain'd,
control'd,
And the tears dimmed his time-wither'd
eve.

His daughter was weeping and clasping that
form
She ne'er touch'd, but with transport before,
His daughter was watching the thundering
storm,
Whose quick flashing lightning so, madly
deform'd,
A face beaming sunshine before.

But how did that daughter, so gentle and fair;
Hear the sentence that doomed her to die?
For a moment, was heard the wild cry of
despair,
For a moment, her eye gave a heart-moving
glare,
For a moment, her bosom heav'd high.

It was but a moment--the phrenzy was past
She smilingly rush'd to his arms:
And there, as a flower, when chill'd by
the
blast,
Reclines on the oak, till its fury be past,
On his bosom she hush'd her alarms.

Not an eye saw the scene but was moisten'd
with woe,
Not a voice could a sentence command:
Down the soldier's rough cheeks tears of
agony flow,
While the sobs of the maiden heaved mournful and slow:
Sad pity wept over the land.

But fled was the hope in the maiden's sad
breast,
From her father's fond bosom she rose,
Mild virtue appeared in her manner confest,
She looked like a saint from the realms of the
blest,
Not a mortal encircled with woes.

She turn'd from the group - and can I declare
The hope and the fortitude given?
As she sunk on her knees with a soul-breathing prayer,
That her father might flourish of virtue the
care,
Till with glory he flourish'd in Heaven.

"Oh! comfort him Heaven! when low in the
dust,
"My limbs are inactively laid;
"Oh! comfort him Heaven! and let him then
trust,
That free and immortal the souls of the just,
Are in glory and beauty arrayed."

The maiden arose — and can I pourtray
The devotion that glow'd in her eye?
Religion's sweet self in its light seem'd to stray,
With the mildness of night, with the glory of
day:
But 'twas pity that prompted her sigh.

"My father," the chief raised his dim weeping
eye,
With a look of unspeakable woe!
"My father," her voice seemed convuls'd with
a sigh,
But the tears as they gushed from her
griefswollen eye,
Told more than her words could bestow.

The weakness was past - and the maiden could
say:
"My father! for thee I can die!"
The bands slowly mov'd on their sorrowful
way,
But never again from that heart breaking day
Was a tear known to force its enlivening ray,
On the old chieftain's grief speaking eye.