John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.
Appendix I. Early and Uncollected VersesJudith at the Tent of Holofernes
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In her dim and quiet manner,
Where Bethulia’s silver fountains
Gushed beneath the Assyrian banner.
Moonlight, o’er her meek dominion,
As a mighty flag unfurled,
Like an angel’s snowy pinion
Resting on a darkened world!
But the crowded camp was calm;
Girded in their battle armor,
Each a falchion at his arm,
Lordly chief and weary vassal
In the arms of slumber fell;
It had been a day of wassail,
And the wine had circled well.
Lay Assyria’s champion,
Where the ruby’s rich vermilion
Shone beside the beryl-stone.
With imperial purple laden,
Breathing in the perfumed air,
Dreams he of the Jewish maiden,
With her dark and jewelled hair.
Bending o’er that son of slaughter?
God be with thee in thy danger,
Israel’s lone and peerless daughter!
She hath bared her queenly beauty
To the dark Assyrian’s glance;
Now, a high and sterner duty
Bids her to his couch advance.
In her earnest prayer to Heaven;
Look again, that maiden standeth
In the strength her God has given!
Strangely is her dark eye kindled,
Hot blood through her cheek is poured;
Lo, her every fear hath dwindled,
And her hand is on the sword!
See, that mighty blade is driven,
And its fall!—’t is swift and certain
As the cloud-fire’s track in heaven!
Down, as with a power supernal,
Twice the lifted weapon fell;
Twice, his slumber is eternal—
Who shall wake the infidel?
Like an air-borne wave of gold;
And Bethulia’s armor gleameth
Round Judea’s banner-fold.
Down they go, the mailëd warriors,
As the upper torrents sally
Headlong from their mountain-barriers
Down upon the sleeping valley.
Dream no more of woman’s smile;
Fiercer than the leaguered Tyrian,
Or the dark-browed sons of Nile,
Foes are on thy slumber breaking,
Chieftain to thy battle rise!
Vain the call—he will not waken—
Headless on his couch he lies.
What hath woman’s weakness done?
Whose dark brow is up before ye,
Blackening in the fierce-haired sun?
Lo! an eye that never slumbers
Looketh in its vengeance down;
And the thronged and mailëd numbers
Wither at Jehovah’s frown!