It call'd him up, and up the steep ascent
With pain and labour, haste and joy, they went.
Elcanor laugh'd to see them climb, and thought
His mighty words the' affrighted suppliants
brought;

Did new affronts to the great Hebrew Name
(The barbarous !) in his wanton fancy frame.
Short was his sport; for, swift as thunder's stroke
Rives the frail trunk of some heaven-threatening
oak,

The Prince's sword did his proud head divide;
The parted skull hung down on either side.
Just as he fell, his vengeful steel he drew
Half-way (no more the trembling joints could do);
Which Abdon snatch'd, and dyed it in the blood
Of an amazed wretch that next him stood.
Some close to earth, shaking and grovelling, lie,
Like larks when they the tyrant hobby spy;
Some, wonder strook, stand fix'd; some fly; some
Wildly, at the' unintelligible alarm.
[arm
Like the main channel of an high-swoln flood,
In vain by dikes and broken works withstood;
So Jonathan, once climb'd the' opposing hill,
Does all around with noise and ruin fill ;
Like some large arm of which, another way
Abdon o'erflows; him too no bank can stay.
With cries the' affrighted country flies before,
Behind the following waters loudly roar.
Twenty, at least, slain on this out-guard lie,
To the' adjoin'd camp the rest distracted fly;
And ill-mix'd wonders tell, and into 't bear
Blind terror, deaf disorder, helpless fear,
The conquerors too press boldly in behind,
Doubling the wild confusions which they find.

Hamgar at first, the Prince of Ashdod town,
Chief 'mongst the five in riches and renown,
And General then by course, opposed their way,
Till drown'd in death at Jonathan's feet he lay,
And cursed the heavens for rage, and bit the
ground;

His life, for ever spilt, stain'd all the grass around.
His brother too, who virtuous haste did make
His fortune to revenge, or to partake,

Falls grovelling o'er his trunk, on mother earth; Death mix'd no less their bloods than did their

birth.

Meanwhile the well-pleased Abdon's restless sword
Dispatch'd the following train to' attend their lord.
On still, o'er panting corpse, great Jonathan led;
Hundreds before him fell, and thousands fled.
Prodigious Prince! which does most wondrous
show,

Thy' attempt, or thy success? thy fate, or thou?
Who durst alone that dreadful host assail,
With purpose not to die, but to prevail !
Infinite numbers thee no more affright,

Than God, whose unity is infinite.

If Heaven to men such mighty thoughts would give, What breast but thine capacious to receive The vast infusion? or what soul but thine Durst have believed that thought to be divine? Thou follow'dst Heaven in the design, and we Find in the act 'twas Heaven that follow'd thee. Thou led'st on angels, and that sacred band (The Deity's great lieutenant!) didst command. 'Tis true, Sir, and no figure, when I say

Angels themselves fought under him that day.

Clouds, with ripe thunder charged, some thither

drew,

And some the dire materials brought for new.
Hot drops of southern showers (the sweats of
death),
[breath;

The voice of storms, and winged whirlwinds'
The flames shot forth from fighting dragons' eyes;
The smokes that from scorch'd fevers' ovens rise;
The reddest fires with which sad comets glow;
And Sodom's neighbouring lake, did spirits bestow
Of finest sulphur; amongst which they put
Wrath, fury, horror, and all mingled shut
Into a cold moist cloud, to' enflame it more,
And make th' enraged prisoner louder roar.
The' assembled clouds burst o'er their army's head;
Noise, darkness, dismal lightnings, round them
Another Spirit, with a more potent wand [spread.
Than that which Nature fear'd in Moses' hand,
And went the way that pleased, the mountain
strook ;

The mountain felt it; the vast mountain shook.
Through the wide air another Angel flew
About their host, and thick amongst them threw
Discord, despair, confusion, fear, mistake,
And all the' ingredients that swift ruin make.
The fertile glebe requires no time to breed;
It quickens, and receives at once the seed. [seen,
One would have thought, this dismal day to' have
That Nature's self in her death-pangs had been.
Such will the face of that great hour appear;
Such the distracted sinner's conscious fear.
In vain some few strive the wild flight to stay;
In vain they threaten, and in vain they pray;

Unheard, unheeded, trodden down, they lie,
Beneath the wretched feet of crowds that fly.
O'er their own foot trampled the violent horse;
The guideless chariots with impetuous course
Cut wide through both; and, all their bloody way,
Horses and men, torn, bruised, and mangled, lay.
Some from the rocks cast themselves down head-
long;

The faint, weak passion grows so bold and strong!
To almost certain present death they fly,
From a remote and causeless fear to die.
Much different error did some troops possess ;
And madness, that look'd better, though no less:
Their fellow-troops for the' enter'd foe they take;
And Israel's war with mutual slaughter make.
Meanwhile the king from Gabaa's hill did view,
And hear, the thickening tumult, as it grew
Still great and loud; and, though he knows not why
They fled, no more than they themselves that fly,
Yet, by the storms and terrors of the air,
Guesses some vengeful spirit's working there;
Obeys the loud occasion's sacred call,

And fiercely on the trembling host does fall.
At the same time their slaves and prisoners rise;
Nor does their much-wish'd liberty suffice
Without revenge; the scatter'd arms they seize,
And their proud vengeance with the memory please
Of who so lately bore them. All about,
From rocks and caves, the Hebrews issue out
At the glad noise; joy'd that their foes had shown
A fear that drowns the scandal of their own.
Still did the Prince 'midst all this storm appear,
Still scatter'd death and terrors every-where ;

Still did he break, still blunt, his wearied swords;
Still slaughter new supplies to' his hand affords.
Where troops yet stood, there still he hotly flew,
And, till at last all fled, scorn'd to pursue.
All fled at last, but many in vain; for still
The' insatiate Conqueror was more swift to kill
Than they to save their lives. Till, lo! at last,
Nature, whose power he had so long surpass'd,
Would yield no more, but to him stronger foes,
Drought, faintness, and fierce hunger, did oppose.
Reeking all o'er in dust, and blood, and sweat,
Burnt with the sun's and violent action's heat,
'Gainst an old oak his trembling limbs he staid,
For some short ease; Fate in the old oak had laid
Provisions up for his relief; and, lo!

The hollow trunk did with bright honey flow.
With timely food his decay'd spirits recruit,
Strong he returns, and fresh, to the pursuit ;
His strength and spirits the honey did restore;
But, oh! the bitter-sweet strange poison bore!
Behold, Sir, and mark well the treacherous fate,
That does so close on human glories wait!
Behold the strong, and yet fantastic net,
To' ensnare triumphant virtue darkly set!
Could it before (scarce can it since) be thought,
The Prince-who had alone that morning fought
A duel with an host, had the' host o'erthrown,
And threescore thousand hands disarm'd with one;
Wash'd-off his country's shame, and doubly dyed
In blood and blushes the Philistian pride;
Had saved and fix'd his father's tottering crown,
And the bright gold new burnish'd with renown,
Should be ere night, by's King and Father's breath,
Without a fault, vow'd and condemn'd to death?