New Zealand Verse/Jael
CLXVIII.
Jael.
Bitter in spirit was I, that I stood afar off from my nation,
Counted as one with no portion or lot in her triumphs and sorrows,
Joined to an alien in blood, who stooped to the rule of the stranger.
Counted as one with no portion or lot in her triumphs and sorrows,
Joined to an alien in blood, who stooped to the rule of the stranger.
All day long had I heard the distant uproar of battle.
Israel was striking for freedom; long time had she suffered in bondage,
Waiting a sign from the Lord, at last came the hour of requital.
Lonely I waited for tidings—no Israelite maiden or mother
Brought her rejoicings and fears to share with the wife of the Kenite.
Silence fell as the sun drew nigh to the end of his journey.
Low he shone in the west, and dusk in the glare of the sunset
Stretched like a shadowy finger the long dark shade of the palm-tree.
Israel was striking for freedom; long time had she suffered in bondage,
Waiting a sign from the Lord, at last came the hour of requital.
Lonely I waited for tidings—no Israelite maiden or mother
Brought her rejoicings and fears to share with the wife of the Kenite.
Silence fell as the sun drew nigh to the end of his journey.
Low he shone in the west, and dusk in the glare of the sunset
Stretched like a shadowy finger the long dark shade of the palm-tree.
Then as I watched, expectant, I saw where, escaping from battle,
Came one alone and defenceless, fleeing away to the mountains,
Beating with fugitive feet the parched white dust of the roadway.
Stirred was my heart with womanly pity, and words of compassion
Leaped to my lips. “Behold the tent of a friend is before thee;
Faint are thy footsteps and weary; here rest, and be safe from pursuing.”
Gladly he turned at my voice, and I knew as I looked on his features,
Sisera, leader and captain of those who had troubled my people!
Came one alone and defenceless, fleeing away to the mountains,
Beating with fugitive feet the parched white dust of the roadway.
Stirred was my heart with womanly pity, and words of compassion
Leaped to my lips. “Behold the tent of a friend is before thee;
Faint are thy footsteps and weary; here rest, and be safe from pursuing.”
Gladly he turned at my voice, and I knew as I looked on his features,
Sisera, leader and captain of those who had troubled my people!
Yet did I lead him within, refreshed him with milk at his asking,
Hid him in safety and watched, while he sank in the sleep of the weary.
Then while I gazed on the helpless and fugitive captain of thousands,
Vanquished and overthrown by Jehovah’s victorious armies,
Came a stern thought to my mind, “Is it meet that, of all the most guilty,
This man escape from the slaughter, and flee to his master in safety?
Meet he find shelter and rest in the tent of an Israelite woman?
Here hath he come without fear, for my lord is at peace with his people—
Peace, saith my heart, what is peace, ’twixt a foe and a daughter of Israel!
Were not my kindred afar this hour might be slain the oppressor—
Had not this hammer and nail sufficed in the hand of a woman?”
Sternly I bent o’er his slumber; when, restless as warned of a danger,
Dreaming of battle, he stirred, and moved as if to awaken;
And in the sudden dismay, the horror and fear of his waking—
Waking to read in my face the thought that had whitened my forehead—
Swift the dark thought had become, in a moment, the deed it foreshadowed.
Hid him in safety and watched, while he sank in the sleep of the weary.
Then while I gazed on the helpless and fugitive captain of thousands,
Vanquished and overthrown by Jehovah’s victorious armies,
Came a stern thought to my mind, “Is it meet that, of all the most guilty,
This man escape from the slaughter, and flee to his master in safety?
Meet he find shelter and rest in the tent of an Israelite woman?
Here hath he come without fear, for my lord is at peace with his people—
Peace, saith my heart, what is peace, ’twixt a foe and a daughter of Israel!
Were not my kindred afar this hour might be slain the oppressor—
Had not this hammer and nail sufficed in the hand of a woman?”
Sternly I bent o’er his slumber; when, restless as warned of a danger,
Dreaming of battle, he stirred, and moved as if to awaken;
And in the sudden dismay, the horror and fear of his waking—
Waking to read in my face the thought that had whitened my forehead—
Swift the dark thought had become, in a moment, the deed it foreshadowed.
******
Was it long that I stood, alone, while the sun in its sinking
Shone like a blood-red sign, afar in the west, and the sunshine
Changed to a crimson stain alike on the earth and the heaven?
Darker the shadowy finger lay stretched away to the eastward;
Motionless, silent I stood, and watched where it pointed, and waited;
Watched till he came whom Jehovah had named to deliver his people.
Then did I stay him with words strange spoken as words of a vision,
“He whom thou seekest is here; and Israel has rest from her burden.”
Shone like a blood-red sign, afar in the west, and the sunshine
Changed to a crimson stain alike on the earth and the heaven?
Darker the shadowy finger lay stretched away to the eastward;
Motionless, silent I stood, and watched where it pointed, and waited;
Watched till he came whom Jehovah had named to deliver his people.
Then did I stay him with words strange spoken as words of a vision,
“He whom thou seekest is here; and Israel has rest from her burden.”
Listen! A voice in the meadows. The prophetess Deborah singing;
Leading the chorus of maids who exult in the triumph of Israel.
Hark, now they near us, and higher in triumph are lifting their voices—
“Blessed for ever be Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite!”
Blessed for ever be Jael? Is it possible I can be blessed?
Am I a mother in Israel, a leader and sign for the people?
Am I not worthy? for mine is the hand that has slain the oppressor.
Mine is the hand. Yet a woman’s: a hand that has tended an infant,
Succoured the needy full oft, and divided the food to the hungry.
Pitiful ever to weakness. A lamb that was lost from its mother
Oft have they brought from the field, half dead with the cold and the terror;
Such would I lovingly tend, till the innocent creature reviving,
Paid with its grateful caresses the hand that had snatched it from famine.
Such have I once been—but now—has tenderness left me for ever?
O ye maidens who sing and rejoice in the things that ye know not,
Heedless of bloodshed and ruin, the manifold horror of battle,
Praising the valour of men steeped red in the stain of the slaughter,
Name me no more in your song, for my spirit is burdened with sorrow!
Not for his death I repent me. He died for the peace of my people;
Rightly he perished; yet woe to the treacherous soul of the slayer!
She who, forgetful of faith, and the pitiful spirit of woman,
Stained with the blood of a guest the hearth in whose safety he trusted.
Yet to my country I offer this deed, and my country accepts it:
Taking with joy from my hand her final release from oppression.
Peace be henceforth in her ways, and quietness rest in her borders.
Ever alone must I go, a sign, set apart among women;
Life overshadowed henceforth by the gloom of a bitter remembrance;
Haunted through long dark nights by visions of death ever present,
Haunted through long sad days by shuddering fear of the sunset;
Yet can I say, “It is well.” I live in the life of my people.
Great are the ways of Jehovah, and Israel has rest from her burden.
Leading the chorus of maids who exult in the triumph of Israel.
Hark, now they near us, and higher in triumph are lifting their voices—
“Blessed for ever be Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite!”
Blessed for ever be Jael? Is it possible I can be blessed?
Am I a mother in Israel, a leader and sign for the people?
Am I not worthy? for mine is the hand that has slain the oppressor.
Mine is the hand. Yet a woman’s: a hand that has tended an infant,
Succoured the needy full oft, and divided the food to the hungry.
Pitiful ever to weakness. A lamb that was lost from its mother
Oft have they brought from the field, half dead with the cold and the terror;
Such would I lovingly tend, till the innocent creature reviving,
Paid with its grateful caresses the hand that had snatched it from famine.
Such have I once been—but now—has tenderness left me for ever?
O ye maidens who sing and rejoice in the things that ye know not,
Heedless of bloodshed and ruin, the manifold horror of battle,
Praising the valour of men steeped red in the stain of the slaughter,
Name me no more in your song, for my spirit is burdened with sorrow!
Not for his death I repent me. He died for the peace of my people;
Rightly he perished; yet woe to the treacherous soul of the slayer!
She who, forgetful of faith, and the pitiful spirit of woman,
Stained with the blood of a guest the hearth in whose safety he trusted.
Yet to my country I offer this deed, and my country accepts it:
Taking with joy from my hand her final release from oppression.
Peace be henceforth in her ways, and quietness rest in her borders.
Ever alone must I go, a sign, set apart among women;
Life overshadowed henceforth by the gloom of a bitter remembrance;
Haunted through long dark nights by visions of death ever present,
Haunted through long sad days by shuddering fear of the sunset;
Yet can I say, “It is well.” I live in the life of my people.
Great are the ways of Jehovah, and Israel has rest from her burden.