Jephthah

6 JEPHTHAH. Threatens the white flower of our homes: our wives, Daughters, and sons are as a prey to them, And where the children of the Ammonites Throng not swift hoofs for murder, Jephthah’s men Blaspheme our sanctuaries inviolate, And rob us of our dearest. Woe on woe, The overwhelming summit of a wave Too black, too concentrate, too impious, And culminating in a double death, Hangs imminent to crush the slender sides And battered bulwarks of our state. O thou Whose hoary locks and sightless eyes compel Our pity and our reverence, and whose mouth Foams with the presence of some nearer god Insatiate of thy body frail, give tongue, If tongue may so far master deity As give his fury speech, or shape thy words From the blind auguries of madness. PROPHET. Ha! The rose has washed its petals, and the blood Pours through its burning centre from my heart. The fire consumes the light; and rosy flame Leaps through the veins of blue, and tinges them With such a purple as incarnadines The western sky when storms are amorous And lie upon the breast of toiling ocean, Such billows to beget as earth devours | In ravening whirlpool guiphs. My veins are full,