Your pardon, Madam, if I dare defend him: Joad's zeal should not have struck you with surprise: Such is the eternal order of the G.o.d We serve: His temple and His altar He, Himself, forbade to us; to Aaron's sons Alone, His sacrifices were committed; He marked the Levites' office and their place, And, above all, to their posterity forbade All intercourse with other G.o.ds.

Indeed, both wife and mother of our kings, Are you in this respect a stranger to us?

Do you not know our laws? Must I to-day-- Here is your Mathan; I will take my leave.

{ATHALIAH.}

Abner, your presence here is requisite.

No more of Joad's rash violence; of all That heap of superst.i.tion, which bars out All other nations from your sanctuary; A subject more momentous stirs my fears.

I know, from infancy brought up to arms, That Abner has a n.o.ble heart; that he Can render, when necessity demands, His duty to his G.o.d, and what he owes Unto his queen. Remain.

_Scene V._

{ATHALIAH, MATHAN, ABNER, SUITE OF ATHALIAH.}

{MATHAN.}

Great queen! is this a fitting place for you?

What trouble agitates you--fear congeals?

What do you come to seek amidst your foes?

Dare you approach this temple of profaneness?

Have you cast off that hatred so intense--

{ATHALIAH.}

List both of you attentively: I wish not here to call to mind the past, Nor render an account of blood that's flowed; I do not take a hasty crowd for judge; In what its violence has dared put forth, To justify me, heaven itself has cared.

The great achievements of my rooted power Have made my name respected to both seas: By me Jerusalem's a calm profound; Jordan no longer sees the vagrant Arabs', Nor proud Philistines' constant ravages, Lay waste her banks, as in your sovereigns' times; The Syrian treats me as a sister queen; At length the treacherous scourger of my house.

{ATHALIAH.}

Who was to drive his cruelty on me, Jehu, the haughty Jehu, in Samaria Is trembling; pressed by potent neighbours On every side, whom I have found the means To raise against that murderer; and I Am left the royal mistress of those lands; In peace the fruit of my sagacity Enjoying. But, some days ago, there came A sleepless trouble to arrest the course Of my prosperity. A dream (why should a dream Disquiet me?) feeds in my heart a pang That wrings it; everywhere I try to shun it; But everywhere it follows me. It was During the horror of the night profound, My mother, Jezebel, before me stood, Apparelled gorgeously, as on the day Of her decease; misfortunes had not crushed Her dignity; and even she had still That borrowed tint, with which it was her care To bloom and ornament her countenance, In order to repair the ravages Of years irreparable. 'Tremble, daughter, Thou worthy of myself,' to me she said; 'The cruel G.o.d of Judah over thee Will certainly prevail: I pity thee, My daughter, falling into His dread hands.'

These fearful words completed, towards my bed Her shadow seemed to bend itself, and I Held out my arms in order to embrace it; But only found confusion horrible Of mangled bones and flesh dragged in the mud, And tatters soaked in gore, of hideous limbs, That dogs, devouring, fought for with each other.

{ABNER.}

Great G.o.d!

{ATHALIAH.}

In this disorder came before mine eyes A tender boy, in radiant robes arrayed, As one beholds the Hebrew priests attired.

My sunken spirits rallied at the vision; But when recovering from my deadly trouble, His sweetness, n.o.ble air, and modesty I was admiring, all at once I felt A homicidal steel, plunged by the traitor Deep through my breast.--Of objects so diverse The strange a.s.semblage, seems to you perhaps A work of chance; and I myself, at times, Shamed of my fears, have thought it but the effect Of sombre melancholy; but my soul, Possessed by this remembrance, in my sleep, Has twice beheld that spectre terrible: Twice my sad eyes have had upon them traced The picture of that boy always prepared To spring on me. At length, quite wearied out, With horrors that pursued me, unto Baal I went to ask protection for my life, And at his altars look for some repose: What cannot terror do in mortal mind?

An instinct forced me to the Jewish temple, And I conceived the thought to appease their G.o.d: Some offerings, I believed, would calm His rage, And make that G.o.d, whate'er He be, more gentle.

Pontiff of Baal excuse my feebleness!

I entered; but the sacrifices ceased, The people fled; the high-priest furiously Rushed towards me; whilst he spake, O terrible surprise!

I saw that selfsame child, my menacer, Such as my frightful dream had fashioned him.

I saw him; even his air, his linen garb, His gait, his eyes, his lineaments entire: It was himself. He walked beside the high-priest: But soon they caused him to avoid my sight.

This is the trouble that arrests me here, And touching which I long to question both.

Mathan, what does this prodigy forebode?

{MATHAN.}

This dream, and this resemblance seem to me Quite terrible.

{ATHALIAH.}

But, Abner, have you seen that fatal boy?

What is he? Of what blood, and of what tribe?

{ABNER.}

Two children at the altar lend their service: The one is Joad's, his mother, Josabet; The other is unknown to me.

{MATHAN.}

But why Deliberate, Madam, must not both be seized?

You know my moderation, and regard For Joad, and that I do not seek revenge For injuries; that equity alone In all my counsels is the ruling virtue.

But after all, even were it his own child, Could he one moment let the culprit live?

{ABNER.}

What is the crime for which the boy is fitted?

{MATHAN.}

Heaven's shown him with a weapon in his hand.

Heaven, just' and wise, does nothing fruitlessly.

What do you seek for more?

{ABNER.}

But on the strength Of a mere dream urge you that we should plunge Our hands into the blood of blossoming youth?

You know not yet his father, who he is.

{MATHAN.}

He stirs our fears; that comprehends the whole.

If of ill.u.s.trious parents he is born, The splendour of his lot must speed his doom.

Should fate have ranked him in obscurity, What matters it if low-born blood be spilt?

Does this slow justice appertain to kings?

Their safety oft depends on prompt redress.

Let us not pinch them with perplexing cares: Suspected ones are criminals to them.

{ABNER.}

Mathan, is this the language of a priest?

I, trained to horrid carnage in the field, The stern executor of royal vengeance, Must I to the unhappy lend my voice!

And you, who owe to him a father's yearnings, You, minister of peace in time of wrath, Now, covering your resentment with false zeal, Are of opinion blood too lightly flows!