Chronicles of a pioneer school from 1792 to 1833 : $b being the history of Miss Sarah Pierce and her Litchfield school
History
Chronicles of a pioneer school from 1792 to 1833 : $b being the history of Miss Sarah Pierce and her Litchfield school
Litchfield Female Academy (Conn.) -- History
With war’s dread scourge, fill’d up heaven’s cup of wrath
This roused the stupid, and abashed the bold
They seiz’d their arms and flew to oppose the foe
But all in vain, the foe swept down whole ranks
Our cities bend beneath the conqueror’s sword
From Jordan’s streams and Judah’s fruitful plains
To where proud Ephraim once securely dwelt
My husband fell amidst the foremost ranks
And Jephthah’s cruel brethren wished too late
For his brave hand to save the race of Gilead
Amid the lawless ruin of my country
I scarce found shelter neath Athobat’s arm
Since he is gone, I durst not stay in Israel
Beset by foes both foreign and domestic.
BETHULAH.
Oh Israel, sinful but much lov’d country
My heart drops blood at thy calamities.
Will not these evils bend their stubborn souls
And turn them to the Rock of their defense
Their only hope amid the tempest.
MAHALAH.
With many tears they seek to avert the wrath
Of their offended, but merciful Creator.
They have at last perceived their idols could not save
Have cast them and their altars in the dust
With ardent zeal some seek the good old paths
Saying where’s the right way, let us walk therein
The path which our forefathers wisely trod
But what is man, can he arrest God’s arm
When crimes like ours call forth his righteous vengeance
Ah see where Jephthah comes. Wilt thou entreat for me
I cannot meet his eye.
BETHULAH.
Retire with me, and let our daughters plead
Thy moving cause their eloquence will gain,
An easy pardon from thy generous brother
(_Exit_ BETHULAH _and_ MAHALAH.)
(_Enter_ JEPHTHAH.)
ELIZABETH.
Father I bring an humble suppliant
Who entreats thy pardon for once guilty parents
Who sorrowing, for all the wrongs they brought on thee
Implores through us forgiveness and protection.
JEPHTHAH.
My protection?
Who has sunk so low as to sue for Jephthah’s favor
An outcast wanderer, without power or fortune.
TIRZAH.
One who while living should have called thee brother
Dying bequeath’d his orphan to thy care
Bidding thee recollect the infant friendship
Which warm’d your hearts, e’er envy and ambition
Crept in and blasted every noble feeling.
JEPHTHAH.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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