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·ELEAZAR & NAPHTAL:

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·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI,
A Þebrew Tale.
WITH
IV (VTRODUCTORY PREFACE,
ILLUSTRATIVE OI THÌ ANCIENT AND PRESENT STATE OF TK)
JEBREWS.
TRANSLATED TROM THE FRENCH OF Ń. FLORIAN.
BY J. JONES,
AUTHOR OF RAWTHORN COTTAGE.
LONDON
KRISTAD FOR JANEI ASPERNE, AT THE BIBLE, CROWN, AND
CONSTITUTIOX, 32, CORNUILL.
1816

·me, Lo.

·ADVERTISEMENT. TIJE following picture of Fraternul Love in the first uges ofe the world may in this appeare extravagant and improbable. Bul • relatively considered us to the state of society then and now, IBs fiction may not appear to be wholly Jergned! Society was in 'those days corgimd to fewer individuals, and auch became more deur to lile other, as the circle of connection tous necessarily more contracted. Luxsexy hul not, as in the present day, juced imaginary wants. (with their concomituni vices of Ency, Pride, and low Ambition) nor the ineun und sel- ·* ii SO fish arts by which they are now too' often supplied—those little jealousies and emulations by which the nobler affections of our nature are now often warped or absolutely subdued, were rarely excited in those days of simplicity and truth, when the Icart unbiassed by the petty interests of vanity, was sensible to the impulse of affection, and neither fear ucr shame imposed silence on the tongue that would declare it. It was, probably, the object of the worthy author of this little performance, (it certainly is that of the translator) to reprove by contrust the artis ficial manners and wetensions toe generally prevalent in these modesti tgo tiines; and to promote the untophisticated inflgence of Nature in the human breast—but, be it understood, ·iii with the necessary caution, that, in this, age of artifice and insincerity, it become not the dupe of alts own goodness. The Introductory part of the volume is a valuable appendage to the work, as an accurate delincalion of the ancient anal present state of the IIebrews; a people whose history duly considered is astonishing--and in the circumstances. of their existence during the last eighteen centuries, a, standing miracle, und ore of the strongest evideices of the truth of Christianity, and of the connection and consistency of the Two Testaments ---a living and a lusting commentary on the prophecies—and a grand corrobora'ing proof of God's providence in the moral order of the world.-Separated and dispersed through all the nations of the world, they ainalgamate with nonema ckosen and select people ·iv they have always been, and seem so to remain : freserved as it were by an especial Providence, both in their exa altation and abusement, as a signal manifestation of divine power, and perhaps reserved for the final illustration of Heaven's ixscrutable arcana in its multifurious scheme of lluman destiny. It has been ihé endeavour of the Translator to preserte the spirit of · his author in'the work he has humbly altempted-he will therefore be fiequently found trespassing on his letter though he flatlers-himself that he has not used this licence- wanlonlybut whatever be his success in the attempt, confident in the just julgment of a candid and impartial Public, med respectfully submits his little volume to its decisive, Verdict. JANUARY 8, 1816.

·INTRODUCTION. I WAS travelling some years ago, in the ancient seigniory of Avignon, when passing near the little town of L'Isle, I resolved to visit the Fountain of Vaucluse. As I was returning from that celebrated place, about the hour of ten in the morning, I perceived, sitting in the shade of 'a mulberry tree on the bånk of the Sorgues, a young man and woman. . B ·iv INTRODUCTION. Their neat and simple habits indicat ted neither wealth nor indigence The countenance of the young man was prepossessing, though not handsome-that of the young woman was dignified and beautiful--and what rendered its beauty more striking was, its foreign character. Her oval visage, and her fine blą.ck cyes, seemed to bear in them the impression of misfortunu ard dignit;. I stopped to consider it. SHe was listening with niuch attertion to the reading of a manuscript' which the young man held on his knees. · I drew nigh un- ·INTRODUCTION. perceived, and soon discovered that it was not French he read. They both seemed much interested and somctimes stopped to speak to each other in the same language as that of the manuscript pressing cách cther's hand, and looking affectionately-I even thought I observed their eyes filled with tears. ! Although I did not understand a word they said, I should have listened a long time, if the young woman, perceiving me, had not made a sign to her companion to retire." It . B 2 ·vi INTRODUCTION. is for me,” said I, “ to withdraw, since my presence is disagreeable to you. I am a stranger returning from Vaucluse, and had missed my way, when seeing you engaged in reading (on this charming spot where probably Petrarch formerly read his verses to the beautiful Layra)—I took the liberty of approaching to ask of you my way to L'Isle,” The young woman blushed—ner companion answered me in French pointing to the path I should take. I asked him if he was returning to ·INTRODUCTION. sii ܢ L'Isle--he said, yes I requested his permission to accompany him-he could not refuse me and we set out together. We had alınost half a league to go, and I had time to form and to venture . other questions. The young woman said nothing--she walked with downcast eyes-baving given her arm to the young man. He, more confident, seemed not averse to my. conversation --I turned it on the manuscript which he had been reading. 266 In what language is it?” said I.

·vili INTRODIICTION. “ In mine," he replied: “I am a Hebrew.” “ You are of a very ancient and celebrated nation to which every Christian owes respect.” “ We would dispense with their respect, if they would grant us but that toleration which humanity demands." "I could wish it also ; and for all men, of sincere faith, whatever, be their persuasion. I hope, that in my ·INTRODUCTION. ix country that happy period is not far distant--but; without intending to excuse the cruelties your people have suffered with still less intention to outrage your nation-permit me to remind you, that it has been itself intolerant--that it has shed 'much . blood, and that at each page of your history it is necessary to remind ourselves that it is sacred history, not to turn' with doubt and horror from the massacres we every-where find recorded in it." “I know not,” replied the young ·X INTRODUCTION, man, “ whether your histories of Europe present pictures less revolting; but I can assure you, if you were acquainted with the histories of our neighbours the Syrians, the Pheniciansg the Idumeans, you would find the massacres of our history fully equalled -God forbid, that I should thence pretend to extenuate the horror of them, I would only remark, that the numerous people of Asia, especially those nigh the burning deserts of the Red Sea, seem to have been greater exterminators than other peoplebut in the matter of barbarity—I 1 ·INTRODUCTION. xi confess I know not which may bear the palm-in a comparison with our brethren the Arabs, the principal difference, perhaps, would be, that the details of their actions are l'ess known than those of ours. Your phitosophers, whoni I otherwise respect, have dwelt too much on our cruelties—I know their motive—they have entertained less hatred against us, than spleen towards certain things, the origin of which they reproach us with— they strike at the Jews-to wound a more distant object--they have read them—they have said of them, that B3.

·uii INTRODUCTION. their annals are stained with blood but they have not had the justice to say, that in the same annals they have found the most affecting traits of justice and humanity.” * “ Yes” I replied, “ your story of Joseph is a master-piece of morality, tenderness, and interest. “ Do you think that'ulone worthy of praise?” interrupted the young and beautiful Jewess, who had hitherto been silent. “I could wish, før a moment, to discuss with you the subject of.

·INTRODUCTION. xiii our books, as though they were not sacred. Do you see no beauty in the detail of patriarchal manners so well described in Genesis-Do you feel no interest in the perusal of Abraham's hospitality—the marriage of Rebecca --the meeting of Jacob and Rachel at the well-the seven years servitude to which he voluntarily submitted to obtain her whom he loved - and the other seven yexrs which he recommenced to render himself more worthy of her? --The history of Job-of Ruth - of Jonathan- of Tobit-are all these destitute of interest?. Do you ·xiy INTRODUCTION. acknowledge no beauties of genius and eloquence in the songs of Moses of Deborah - of David--of Solomon-in our Psalms-iņ our Prophets? Compare the. Bible with the Alcoran, the Sadda, or the Zendavesta, the very reading of which is intolerable and accede, at least, to the opinion of the fathers of your church-your writers -your most celebrated poets--who, notwithstanding their hatred to us, do us the honour to study-to admireand often to imitate our books. . 66. Without discussing their merit, ·INTRODUCTION. XV -you will find in will find in every condescend but to the recollection of our laws.--Open the code-the only one, perhaps, that has been observed in.continuity during the space of three thousand years--you page the precepts of humanity. I will not speak of the Decalogue—the most excellent and most ancient monument of uitiversal morality-nor of our laws will I cite more than a few details less goerally known: 66.6 Love, and protect' says Moses to us the unfortunate and strangers, remembering, that ye were yourselves ·Xyi INTRODUCTION unfortunate, and strangers in Egypt. -When ye reap your field, or gather the grapes of your vineyard, forget not to leave a part for those of yeur brethren who have no field, and no vineyard, that they also may reap and gather. -Every seventh year leave the crop Four lands to the poor. Every seventh year give liberty to your slaves - cherish them be mindful of them-remembering that ye have been slaves yourselves.—Honour the countenarice of the aged, and risė to the bald and hoary head.-Even in the country of your enemy, destroy of ·INTRODUCTION. xvii. not the trees which nquirish man.--Extend your regard even to animals those who are not kind to them, will never be truly so to their brethren. ---Let charity be an obligation to him who is susceptible of ‘no pleasure in it. - Suffer not the murderer to purchase with gold the blood he has shad.-Let justice be even-handed to all condi- .tions.- Let pity become so much the habitual sentiment of your hearts —that in taking a nest of birds, the Israelite may consider himself bound to suffer at least the mother to escape.

·xyiii INTRODUCTION. - Do these prescriptions appear barbarous to you?-and when did we first observe them ?-when all Europe eat of the acorn in the forests—when the Mede and the Persian were scarcely “civilized—when in Egypt alone were found men who could read. At this remote epoch, we had a government, which for its simplicity still merits the respect of the wise. A people, separated into tribest--forming one family-each tribe having its council, to decide upon, its interests—a senate composed of elders, chosen in these different councils, to discuss in the ·INTRODUCTION. xix name of the nation its general interests a supreme Judge chosen by the people when the state was in danger -Obedience and Liberty reconciled by a gradual Hierarchy paid by the people, without the power of possessing any thing—God for our king-the Lawour master-and'all Israel soldiers -such was out republic during the *space of four hundred years. We desired to have monarchs, and many of them reigned with glory. The mnost . celebrated the most revered name in the East even at this day, is the name of one of our kings. Our ·XX INTRODUCTION, ancient capital is still a sacred city, even in the eyes of our oppressors our books so long composed are in all your libraries. · Where is the pecple whose laws, whose works, whose name, havė so long survived its ruin! Vanquished and dispersed by the Assyrians-settled in, their vast dominions -where our industry rendered us rich and powerful twice did re quit our establishments our niches-and the comforts of affluence, to return and doll in the ruins of Jerusalem.. Ah! if the love of our country be the first of virtues-who has excelled us ·INTRODUCTION. xxi in the sense of it? What nation can cite an epoch more glorious than that in which Nehemiah with Esdras 1 led us from the extreinities of Persia, in the face of our jealous neighbours-pith the sword in one hand, and the trowel in the other, we rebuilt our ramparts, and re-raised our altars. From that time until Titus, we combated incessantly for our independence and ou: 'liberty. Our efforts were often successful, and I doubt whether among the Greeks and komans can be found heroes more brave -more perfect-or more useful to ·xxii INTRODUCTION. their country, than were the Macca-' bees.” I heard the fair Jewess with respectful attention--her beauty-her emotion- all added to her eloquence.- Madam,” said I, “ I am not an enemy of the Hebrews—it is not an Amalekite or a Philistire 'that has the honour of hearing you. I agree with you most sincerely in all you have said—but since your dispersion, it is nessible that the vulgar of your people may not always have conducted themselves in such a manner as 3 ·INTRODUCTIONS xxiii .to merit the good-will, of other nations." « Other nations," replied she, fixing on me her two fine black eyes, " must not, for their honour, menticit their conduct towards the unfortunate Hebrews. After the taking of Jerusalem by the celebrated Titus, who doubtless was justly surnamed the ornament of the håman race, although he exercised inost revolting cruelties on his Jewish prisoners, which is somes what extraordinary in the amiable Titus, especially when we consider ·xxiy INTRODUCTION. 1 that he had a Jewish mistressAfter, say, the horrible state in which the Romans left Judea, the most lively imagination would fail in its conception of the miseries which our people suffered. Adrian especially, Adrian, whoác name is not without its glory, persecuted us with all that the most ingenious cruelty could inventand to a degree that would have made the most ferocious savage recoil with hor- His successors persecuted us as Christians · and when Rome was Christian, its emperors persecuted us as Jews. The barbarian kings who es- 1 ror.

·..
INTRODUCTION.'
XXY
tablished themselves on the wrecks of
the empire, made it a point of religion
to shed our blood. Wherever your
crosses passed, they seized us as their
victims — stripped us, and cut our
throats--your pastors -your flagellants
-every species of fanatic-celig have,
during fiftcon centuries, regarded as
a meritorious action—the killing of
Jews. Your kings-your popes--your
'magistrates, 'have sometimes, under
the absurd pretext that we exercised
witchcraft — poisoned waters -- and
crucified children, delivered us to the
tormentors-confiscated our goods

·xxvi INTRODUCTION. bañished us from their dominions-re- 1 called us on the payment of large sums of money, which they have no sooner received than they have driven us away to strip us again at a future time. But although thus made the perpetuai sports and victims of sovereigns, priests, and people of every country, nothing has been able to induce us to relinquish our religion -our rustoms—our ame—the only pretext for such' enormous barbarities. This constancy during more than two thousand years of misery and misfortune, is, perhaps,worthy of some ·INTRODUCTION, xxvi. estimation : and if a small number of miserable Hebrews have disgraced themselves by usury-by baseness by an infamous avarice--let the candied man reflect, that one sure mean of rendering any thing.despicable is always to despise it that our rices • are in a great degree the result of our continued contcmpt-and that it is štill more surprising, that, in the midst of the outrages, we have endured, the greatest part of our nation should have preserved any virtues.” I was going to repel with earnestс ·xxviii INTRODUCTION. ness the accusations which the fair Israelite had ventured to urge (as I conceived with some exaggeration) against the Christians-1 was about to demonstrate to her, that we had been at all 'tiines the most just and worthy people in the world-When we found ourselves at the gates of the town. --The young IIebrew secing me look round for an inn, said to me, with an air of freedo:n and politeness- “My wiſc Esther, whom you have just heard wlad the cause of her nation, with a little too much warmth, has forgotten to tell you, that antong the virtues t ·INTRODUCTION. xxix. which are still dear to us, hospitality holds the first place—we should be very happy, if you would pernit us the exercise of it this day-condescend to do us the honour of entering our mansion, and accepting there a dinna -we will not confiae om liberality to unlcavened Bread." I thanked the llebrew, and, without suffering him to press me farther, accepted his invitation: His house was not far off. It was small-pretty-newly-built upon upon the ·XXX INTRODUCTION. old rampart, whose tufted trees afforded it both shade and shelter. As I was viewing this charming asylum, I perceived on one of its sides a portion of the wall thrown down.-" I am as- Cerished," said I to Mr. Jonathan (for so Madam Esther called her husband) 6 that in a hosse so handsome you leave this side in ruins.' فر “It is our custom," said he. “Ever since the destruction of the temple, e dwelling of every Hebrew must remind us, in some manner, of the holy city deztroyed. ' If you under- ·INTRODUCTION. xxxi stood our language, you would read upon this subverted wall these words, taken from the most beautiful of our psalms—Sooner let me forgel myself than thee, O Jerusalem!"" . We now entered the house. All was simple and proper—there were neither paintings nor sculpture-a handsome paper covered the walls, and some moveables of coloured wood presented us morocco seats. Mr. Jonathan had six children; four boys and two girls—the eldest not eight years old—they all came running to em·xxxii INTRODUCTION. brace Madam Esther-and then knelt to their father who blessed them kissed them and sent them into the garden. 6 You are surprised," sair! he to me, " at these extcrior marks of filial respect--to your eyes, perhaps, somewhat too strongly expressed.Our nation have always considered them as useful and necessary--for our laws are a great restraint on paternal authority, and therefore what we lose by our laws, we endeavour to regain by our A manners.

·INTRODỰCTION. Xxxiii- Whilst he was spcaking, two catholic servants, who were the whole of their domestics, brought out the table and prepared our dinner. Madam Esther went and come, to see that in the preparation of their food, all the precepts of the Mosaic law were observed—as of never serving up cither rabbit or swine-hare, or the fat of .bcef or lamb -- nor milk-food and meat in thc same repast - slaying the beasts they are to eat of, in a way that not a drop of blood may main—jn short, to follow, precisely, a series of customs for which their cooks ·.XXXIV INTRODUCTION. are obliged to consult a kind of formulary. I dared not tell Mr. Jonathan what I thought of these troublesomne obseryances- I was afraid of Madam, Esther coming in upon me-indeed she was soon with us--her children followed her. We were all attentive every one washed hands--and Mr. Jonathan recited å psalm- then he took a whole loaf-blessed it as he broke it-offered cüin of us a, part-and all the ceremonies being ended, I renewed the conversation.

·INTRODUCTION.. XXXV " How mạny,” said I “ do you reckon to be the number of Hebrews actually dispersed over the earth?” « The calculation is not an easy orte,” said he: “ there is considerable diſliculty in effecting an accurate enumeration of the inhabitants of a single empire-judge then of the difficulty in numbering a people spread over the four quarters of the world, and almost every-where living obscurely. But if we add to the 'very great numberºof Jews settled in Europe, the prodigious number of those who inha, .63 ·Xxxvi INTRODUCTION. bit Asia, from Constantinople to Pekin -those which are found upon the coasts of Africa, and in some parts of America, I believe, and am almost certain, that the calculation would exceed five millions of individuals;. you are astonished—you would not be so, were you acquainted with our laws and customs. { “ Our laws prescribe marriage before the age of twenty: every Hebrew, who, at that age, takes not a wife, is considered as living in a state of crime. Our brethren in the East, have a plu- .

·INTRODUCTION xxxviirality of wives—and divorce is permitted every-where. These circumstances might be sufficient to account for the immensity of our population --but to these it may be added, that we are, in general, sober, laborious, and continent- that there are no people among whom conjugal faith is so much respected—that we never bear arms—and that we are, perhaps, in Europe, the only people exempt from the two most destructive plagues of the human race--licentiousness and war, “ But for this the persecutions we ·.xxxviii INTRODUCTION. have suffered in every country, and the infinite number of Jews massacred, must have rendered our race extinct. But these persecutions have united us more closely-brethren in prosperity may separate-ii adversity they embracc. When we were in our Pa- 1 lestine jinder our kings, under our high priests, we envied, we injured, and insulted, each other observed not dur law--raised temples to iclols.- Now that we have no longer either xuntry, priests, or temple—when to obey our God is to endanger pur lives --we are more faithful to him and thful ·INTRODUCTION.. xxxix can remember that he has commanded us to love each other. It is now our only enjoyment-strangers in every country --ineligible to all its employments—we mingit not with public aſkirsz—the only ambition allowed us -the only pleasures left us—are those of being the good husband—the good father-in affecting and concentrating in our domestic happiness every species of happiness—in seeking and in finding in our families, the comforts and consolations denied us by the world. 66 One of these consolations is, the ·xl INTRODUCTION. zealous observance of the divine preren. cept of charity-your most opulent cities are often filled with your poor -you have rarely met a Jew who has asked you for bread. for 'brcad. Wherever we are a little numerous, we have a "common purse for our indigent breth- This purse is never seen, and the way in which it is filled is also a secret, even among ourselýes. Your edicts forbid us the possession of landed-property-we are, however, rich "Enough-and the origin of our fortunes is not usury, as has been too generally and too often asserted, but ·INTRODUCTION. ODUC xli activity-an inclination to labourthe necessity of living with less means than others and the knowledge of commerce which seems to be peculiar to tire Hebrews - this knowledge, which in the darker ages produced in us the invention of billsof exchange, rendered us the factors of the world wherever we were dispersed, and contributed more than is generally supposed to form the first links which have since united all the nations of Europe. -- Thus to our oppression we owe our wealth as we owe to it also, in part, ·xlii INTRODUCTION. our populations, and our benevolence." “ But,” said I, " these persecutions are now, at least uuch mitigated, and in some countries you enjoy all the "privileges of citizens.” - They leave us peaceable cnough in Poland, and in some of the Italian states. In England -and especially in Holland we are more than tolerated. We there profess our worship publicly-we have synagogues, in which our Rabbies, who are no more ·i INTRODUCTION. xliii than teachers of the law, exhort us to virtue to purity reprove those among us who observe not the Sabbath celebrate marriages pronounce divorces --in one word, explain the law. This explication requires not only a profound knowledge of the books of Moses, but ålso of the Talmud, a work muth revered among us as a collection of all the opinions and traditions which constitute our oral law. We consider as learned those who make a particular study of the Talmud,, which may be termed the civil and canonical code of the He·xliy INTRODUCTION. brews. It would be absurd to appreciate to a Christian the merit of this science. Unfortunately we have little else; except a few authors who have applied themselves coastronomy, grama mar, and medicine, the rest have written nothing but controversy. Our literature is almost nothing your taste would be slenderly gratified by a Hebrew library. However, we have hard some celebrated academies—and we have also someschools in the cities where we are allowed to build synagogues. 1 In those where they are not tolerated -We assemble in a room hired at the

·INTRODUCTION.. xly
expense of the community, which has
no other furniture than some benches
a table and a chest or cupboard,
placed on the eastern side of the room,
which is our humblo representative of
the Ark of Shittim wood covered with
plates of gold! It encloses the five
books of Moses, written on parchment
with a kind of ink, peculiar to the
purpose. They are not bound as
other volumes, but are copied upon
long skins, sewed end to end, not with
thread, but with the sinews. of a clean
•
animal.. These skins are rolled upon
two rollers, and the roll is covered with

·xlvi INTRODUCTION. a rich veil embroidered by the inost skilful of our artists. In our assemblies we assign to the highest bidder the honour of carrying this volume from the place in which it is inclosed to the tablc on which we lay it to read fragments from it. The The money thus produced is given to relieve the wants and distresses of our poor. The men are seated on benches, and the women in a railed gallery, and in their respective places, they assist at, the reading, and, chaunt our Hebrew psalms,--and here is all that remains to us of our famous Temple !"

·xlvii . INTRODUCTION. " Is it here,” said, I, celebrate your Feasts?" that you “ Our feasts can be no where celebrated but at Jerusalem: but.we retrace a faint image of them, following we our peculiar calendar, which carefully renew every year. Independently of the Sabbath, we have nume- · rous solemnities, which are all relative to the great epochs of our history such as, l'urim, for the deliverance of the Jews by Esther. Hanucca, for the victories of our Maccabees; and many others ; among which you would ·xlviii INTRODUCTION. be much affected by that which we call the Alonement. It is in commemoration of the day on which Moses, after having obtained pardon for the idolatry of the golden calf, re-descended from the mountain with the renewed tables of the Law. . It was formerly on this day-the only day of the year--that the high priest entered into the Holy of Holies to for there the sorrows, the repentance, and the tears of a people too olten gone astray. We pass this day in the most rigid fast-we appear at the Syúagogue at the dawn of day, not to ·INTRODUCTION xlix depari thence till .night, clothed •in · habits of mourning, with hair and beard disordered. There, we cry, O God! have mercy on us. We have sinned, we have done wrong,. we are justly punished-God of goodness, have Godo mercy on us! Every one lays open his conscience, each implores favour of the Lord, and of his brethren. All animosities are forgotten old offences are acknowledged with a lively •repentance, and forgiven and we embrace each other, with tears. This spectacle, of a number of men

·1
INTRODUCTION.
assembled together to deplore their
faults--and earnestly desiring to re-i
turn to virtue-exists, perhaps, in no
other religion in the world, and would
strike you at once, with pity and
surprise.
“ Excuse these long details—I fear
I have said inore of the Jews than
you
wished to know but
you appeared to
me a good manand the last reflection
which occurs to the good when they
talk of goodness, is--the probability
of their becoming tedious.”

·INTRODUCTION. li I assured Mr. Jonathan of my pleasure in his conversation, and, emboldened by his confidence, I asked him on what subjcct the manuscript treated which he •bad been reading that morning-- Madam Esther answered me. “ It is a poem," said she, “ which my father left me when, he died. It has been in our family more than ten generations, the name of the author is unknown. My father, who was a well-informed Rabbi, conceived it to have been written by a Rechabite, D ·lii INTRODUCTION, retired beyond "Jordan at the period when our hapless Jerusalen, besieged by the Romans, was at the same time rent and torn with internal factions. What adus some weight to this opinion is, what the author says at the commencement of his poem, in addressing himself to the children of Zilpah, that is to say, to the inhabitants of the ancient tribe of Gad. But fidwever it may be, we often read the poein, because we find in it a picture of virtucs which we would practise. It would interest you if you understood the Hebrew-it would, at ·INTRODUCTION. liii least, prove to you, that there exist some Jewish books—whose pages are not stained with blood.” Mr. Jonathan adrled, that he had amused himself with translating it into French. He offered me the perusal of his translation when he had finished it. I accepted his offer with gratitude and 300n after took leave of this amiable and honest family, whom I quitted with the most sensible regret. Three years after this adventure, I D 2 ·liy INPRODUCTION, received the translation of the Hebrew poem, with a letter from Mr. Jonathan, which informed me that his wife and he had quitted the province, then agi'ated by great disturbances, to settle at Cairo. He gave me his "poem, and left me master of its disposal.· Having 'read it, I thought it might possibly interest the few who would condescend to read a moral and pathetic story. I have corrected with my best ability those faults in the French to' which the Hebrew translator might be very venially liable, and availing myself of his permission, ·INTRODUCTio». lv I have printed his book-should it be unsuccessful, Mr. Jonathan shall know nothing of it-should it have any success, I shall very sincerely congratulate him.

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·Skills Rile PUBLIC LIBRARY $13.):) ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. CANTO I. CHILDREN of Zilpalı !-Ye, who mourn before the Lord our fatal discords- ye, who, alone of Israel, lave not yet forgotten that we are a nation of brethren- assemble around me: Come, little family, come into the beautiful valley crowned by the inountains of Gilead. There under the shade of antient ceclars, reclining on the rocks on which our fathers rested,• let us talk of their felicity, and of their ·58 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. virtues. Let us bring to recollection those happy times whicu our tribes united acorcel tlie Lord of luosts-shared the fruits of the earth -- aud, long taught, in the Desert, to endure the ills which Nature imposes on us, endeavoured to alleviate them by friendship, concord, and fraternal affection. Ah! let us retrace the picture of those simple and affecting manners—let the aged, who liear me, exult in the reflection that they were born in times less distant from those peaceful dayslet the young feel in their hearts tlie desire of imitating their ancestors. and let the infant, as it looks at me, sitting on its mother's knee, smile at the ravishing picture --- pleased – it knows not why.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. 59 In the days which succeeded the death of Joshua, Israel had no chief. The tribes, established in their conquests--satisfied with the portion of land allotted to the thought of nothing but how best to enjoy the blessings of the Almighty. The victorious sword and spear were converted into instruments of agriculture-tBe ardent courser who had pursued the Amorite in the plains of Gibeon-now slowly drew the plough—and every Israelite, at peace with his God, with his brethren, and with himself, reposed in tranquillity under bis vine or figtree.. 2 The holy awk was at Shiloh.--Not yet placed in a magnificent teinplea D 3 ·60 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. cover of skins wts its humble repository. Rarely did the blood of the heifer stain the altar of holicausts rarely did the incense of Tadmor burn upon the altar of perfumes—but the reverence-the veneration of a whole people—the purity of the pontiffs-and 'the fervour of sincere vows addressed to the Most Iligh-rendered it more dear to‘him than the superb edifice so often profaned in Sion : Thither, at our principal feasts, came all the tribes of Israel. Thither came the fathers of families, followed by their numereus children, to adore the Lord—to eat the passover with their brethren and to renew the oath of the divine covenant. There were seen ·61 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. mothers presenting their children-delighted with•their embraces—and only interrupted by the kind and sympathizing intervention of their husbands conversation. The elders proclaimed the laws deliverorl to Moses on the holy Mount—the trumpet summoned before them the helpless—the orphanall who might have to complain of fraud or violence-But there was no one to complitin--and the elders praised the Lord. The grandson of Eleazar, the venerable Sadoc, filled the place of Aaron. Sadoc was beloved of God--for Sadloc was the friend of man. lle observed with a rigid zeal all the precepts of the law~he prayed with an impassioned ·02 ELLAZAR AND NAPITALI. zea! for those who observed thein not. During the forty years that he was high priest, the widow, the orphan, the unfortunate of every description, found in him a father and a helper-and, when cheered by his care, assistance, and advice, they would, weeping, kiss his hands, and wonder at his gondness. -“God alone is good," would Sadoc say-"all goodness is from God.” Sadoc was a widower. Two twin sons were all that remained to hiin of · his family-Eleazar and Naphtaliwho at the age of scarcely nineteen years were the example and the dellyht of Israel-beauțiful and wise as Joseph --aniable as Benjamin-when, dressed in their white robes, they accompanied

·ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI.
63
presented
the high priest, and, bresented to him
at the altar the incense, or unleavened
bread, the people fancied they saw
Abraham between two angels and
when, at sunset, they walked round the
city, they would amuse themselves
with raising the leavy stones which
covered the cisterns, to water the flocks
of the young virgins returning from
the fields--who, Mushing, received
their salutations--and, pensive by their
mother's side, would read that evening
how Jacob chose for his wife lier whose
flock he had watered.
Eleazar and Naphtali pere, as yet,
strangers to love. A tender and lively
friendship sufficed the purity of their
souls. This friendship, to them as

·was 64 ELFAZAR AŅD NAPITALI. dear and necessary as existence, connate, and seemned to have no conmencement they had always felt it, and enjoyed it as their life- their hearts were so únited, so mingled and confountled--that, without consideration, they scarcely knew in which breast the wish or desire was first formed. Together at the dawn of day —the dawn of the day following found them still together. → The name of brother, which they so inuch delighted in, added nothing to their proper nane-Eleazar without Naphtali --or Naphtali without Eleazar--presenied to their minds the idea of anni. hilation. 4 There were, however, in their re- ·ELEAZAR AND, NĄPITALI. 65 spective characters some marked shades of distinction.' Eleazar not less tender and affectionate than Naphtali, was more grave and serious-he delighted in meditation—was pleased with the conversation of his elders-with the study of the sacred volumes -- and with the ceremonies of religion? llis mind, early matured, 'calm and pious, cherished peace and reflection. Naphtali, more impetuous, but of equal purity, loved virtue, without contemplating its beauty -- bis heart open to passion sighed even for its pains-and le preferred to the absence of sentiment, the perturbations of an ·66 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. acute sensibility. · But the prudence of Eleazar tempered the arelour of his brother—while the sensibility of Naphtali had a constant claim on the kind indulgence of Eleazar. Thus, though born with diverse qualities, these qualities were united by love-were interchanged without loss---and each'enjoyed the advantages of either. O, the inestimable privilege of friendship! not only to increase our pleasures, but our virtues also. Naphtali, Jong exercised in the warlike sports of the Hebrews, could arrest with his arrows the swiftest bird in its aërial flight. There was none in Ephraim could dispute with him the prize of strength and dexterity.

·ELEAZAR AND .NAPITALI. 67 It was his delight, covered with the skin of the leopard-his loins girded with linen, and without other provi. sion than a vase of milk-the bow in his hand, and the quirer at his backto plunge into the desert-pursue the stag, or the antelope-or to attack the dreadful lion, and return home trophied with his skin. Eleazar, with less strength and skill, for “whom the chase would have had little at. traction, but as the delight of Naphtali, accompanied him 'in his most distant courses. And when, in the performance of his devotions, Eleazar, in his.turn, would be occupied from the dawn of day to the rising of the evening star, Naphtali, constant to his society, and happy by his bro.

·68 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. ther's side, thoright no longer of the chase. One day, when they had been coursing, followed' by their young friends, over the burning rocks of Rimmon, Naphtali, yielding to the impulse of pursuit in the chase of a panther, had leſt far behind him Eleazar and the rest of his companions -- passed the known boundaries of his accustomed course--and, led from place to place by the animal which he had wounded, rushed on with increased ardour-and plunged into the midst of unkņown rocks—until he had lost both his object and his way. Alarmed-not by his own danger but by his apprehensions for his brother's safety-he ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 69 1 hasten'd back his steps-flew across the exhausted brooks-and climbed the summits of the mountains ;-but all that he discovered served but to bewilder him the more. Ilis cries were lost in air—the burning sun dazzled and enveloped him where'er he turned -exhausted by its rays, lie cast his languid eyes around him-nothing pre: sents itself, but naked rocks on every side-and above his head a globe of fire. All nature was still it was morn oppressed by the star of day— the hours fled, and the heat increased - Naphtali renewed his efforts and shortly. felt that dreadful thurst, whieh in these climates is alone sufficient to cause immediate death. Faint-and almost breathless — he walked sup- ·70 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. 4 + ported by his bowmhe raised his languid licad- his eyelids tirooped before the blazing sun--bis thirst increased oppressed and was no longer to!erable. He seized the vase of miikwhich he still borc in bis bosom-this vase, his only resource-bis only hope of life. He raised it to his lips--when suddenly he heard behind him an inarticulate cry-and at the same instant perceived a young and beautiful Israelite. With arms extended and dishevelled hair, she sprang forward and fell at liis feet-crying, 66 I die!-- die!-water!-in pity-water!” She had not finished her exclaniation-before the vase. was at her lips. She drank eagerly without rising ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 71 . from the ground-without other attention than to the refreshing beverage while Naphtali stood over lier, viewing her features her form-her expressive eyes and forehead whiter than alabaster, contrasted with her long black hair, and chceksincarnadined with leat. The sufferings of Naphtali were lost in his consideration and contemplation of this beautiful. Israelite. Le felt a secret charm mingled with a transport so animating—that his soul was pene- • trated-was filled, as by the power of enchantment-his thoughts were dissipated--and his faculties for a time suspended-by this powerful attraction. Happy in preserving the life of this lovely stranger, he forgot hiinself-saw ·72 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. -thought-and considered, of none but her—and as a palsied weakness urged by a great and present danger--the sense of his own distress was banished by her fascinating presence. Ilaving exhausted the vase to the last drop of its contents—the fair'Israelite, with a look of the most expressive gratitude, suid-0), my benefactor!-learn from me the extent of my obligation to you! This morning early, in the pastures at the foot of the inountains, I led пу father's sheep -a troop of armed men suddenly appeared before me--they were the cruel Moabites. I flew-I climbed- gained the summit of these cragged rockson which I have strayed without food ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALJ. 73 without a drop of, water to refresh my wearicd strengtlı.-To you I owe my life !--Ah, come, come with me to iny father's house-we will kill the laub -We will call around us all our family and they shall express to you --all that my heart'has already conceived! I will conduct you--come-if not for your pleasure—at least for ours. --that we may evinces-that we may enjoy-our gratitude." . She spoke_Naphtali looked at her beard her-but his parching thirst, or father his sense of it, had returned with increased violence he strove to reply—but his lips half opened served only to discover the adhesion of his tongue. At this instant the veil of ·74 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. the young Israelite, which hung disordered on lier lead, fell at his feet. -Naphtali stooped to take it upseized it with trembling hand - but staggeredfell--and remained extended on the ground without word or motion. Struck with surprise and fright-she looked at him and conscious that he was perishing from the same want that a little before had endangered her own life - couscious that she alone was the cause of il—she gave a mournful cry-and knowing there was no help for him but in her father's house Jeft him, and with the rapidity of a fawn, flew down the mountains for his relief.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 75 cavern. In the mean while, Eleazar sought his brother with the most anxious inquiry.-llis companions, dispersed by his direction, searched every hole and Eleazar upon the summit of the rocks looked får and near and in mournful voice mingled with his pray'ers 'to heaven the cry of “ Naphtali! my dear Naphtali!”—Then he would listen, inotionless, half distracted and with arnis extended toward heaven implore the Almighty to hear bis prayers--but the echo of the mountains was his only answer--he drooped his head, and the tears ran down liis cheeks.. At length at the close of day, soon after the departure of the young Is- ·76 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. raelite, Eleazar arrived at the foot of the rock, where Naphtali deprived of sense, lay extended on the groundstill grasping in his hand the veil of the fair Israelite, At the sighț of his brother, Eleazar tore his vestinents and throwing 'himself on the body-embraced it-turned it-examined it - and perceiving no wound-he called to his companions, and collecting into a vase the little milk that 'remained with each, he poured the kindly liquid within the pale, parched lips of the unhappy Naphtali, Naphtali opened his dim and languid eyes they sought the Israelite-but wearięd witli the effort, closed again--his feeble hand slowly ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 77 conveying to his bošon the veil it had retained. Eleazar and his friends, liaving with traversed arms formed a bed on which they gently raised him, conducted by a shepherd of the mountains, returned to Shiloh. But inexpressible was the grief of Sadoc, when he saw his dying son. In vain did the pious Eleazar disguising his own fears, endeavour to console himn with assurances, that he would restore his brother. The old man remained motionless, mourned, and in silerce raised his eyes to heaven-not daring to complain to his God, though of.an affliction beyond his strength to bear. E 2 ·78 ELEĄZAR AND NAPHTALI. To Naphtali every kind of help and comfort was supplied. Placed on a bed of soft skins--refreshed by small and frequent portions of the exquisite wine of En-g'edi, the young Hebrew returned to himself-his eyes recognized his father-his arms were raised to embrace his brother, wlio on his Knees beside him with one hand supported his drooping head, and with the other presented drink. - Sadoc, weeping, vicwed them both-and the whole population of Shiloh assembleci round the house, expressing by their cries, their anxiety, and love for Naphtali. The next day was the sixteenth of the month Sivan--the fiftieth after the ·ELEAZAR AND, NAPHTALI. 79 Passover, that is the fiftieth day after the departure out of Egypt, when the Eternal, upon Mount Sinai, deigned, hiinself, to give laws to his chosen people. The memory The memory of this day was duly celebrated. The high priest, assisted by the Levites, presented in the name of the children of Jacob, two leavened loaves of new meal, the first fruits of the harvest. He sacrificed as a burnt-offering,, two young bulls, a. ram, seven lambs without blemish, and the male of the unruly' she-goat, in : expiation of the sins of a too often disobedient people. After the sacrifice of. acknowledgment, every family united for tlie purpose of innocent and cheerful enjoyment -- and every Israelite opened his doors to his breth- ·80 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. ren of other tribes on this day of festivity, the sole occupation of the whole family of Jacob was, to draw closer the bands of an affectionate fraternity. Sadoc, after having fulfilled the sacred duties of his ministry, returned to devote his attention to his son. The pious Eleazar had never quitted Naphtali-even to assist at the sacrifice. But when night was come--and a deep and quiet sleep had closed the eyes of þim he watched-Eleazar ran to the tabernacle. There prostrate on the ground-with hands extended to the border of the vail which covered the Holy of Ilolies, long and ardent were his, supplications-for. he prayed for his brother.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 81 The day had already dawned, and pale was the light cast by the seven lamps of the golden candlestick, when Eleazar arose to return to Naphtali. As he was passing out of the second inclosure, he was suddenly met by a young Israelite, bringing in her hands two doves, and leading a wbite lamb. Anxiety and grief were depicted in her countenance. The blush of modesty suffused her.face, in which piety and chastity, were combined with grace. She approached Eleazar with downcast eyes, and addressed him in these words: " Pardon, holy Levite, pardon a stranger; who, would for a moment detain you. Although a stranger in ·82 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. Shiloh, I am not an infidel. I dwell in Benjamin-in the bamlet of Luza. My name is Rachel. My father Abdias adores the God of Isaac. I come to present to the Eternal this lamb, and these two doves--the only wealth the daughter of a simple shepherd has to offer. Deign son of Aaron, to imrtio. lute them for me on the altar, and implore of the most High the favour I request." < She was sijent. Eleazar looked at her without the power of reply. His heart was too deeply affected by the sweetness of her accent. Wounded by a stroke which made him bless the wound, he stood motionless with admiration-his senses were inflamed ·ELEAZAR AND NAPILI'ALI. 83 C he felt a strange and pleasing pertur.- bation-expected torture—and found it ecstacy. Extending his trembling hand to the modest Rachel, Daughter of Abdias,” said he, “come, attend your sacrifice-your presence will render it more pure. I will immolate your tims—I will, myself, present your gifts - but that my 'ardent prayers may unite wlith yours—answer with sincerity and confidence—what do you require of Ileaven?" The eyes of Rachel were again cast down - and deeper was the blush. “Son of Levi," she replied, pure sentiment.which animates me will not 66 the E 3 ·84, ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 1 -ought not to be concealed. I come to implore the Most Iligh for a mortal, to whom I owe my life-- his life is in danger-and I cannot help him! -May Ileaven turn on me the afflic. tion he this moment suffers !--This is my request—this is my prayer-and the object of my sacrifice !--The gratitude inspired by Heaven-may be confessed at Ileaven's altar."* As she pronounced these words the tears stood in her eyes—and Eleazar felt his own. lle turned towards the Sanctuary-washed his hands and feet in the brazen laver-and prepared his fire on the altar of holycausts. The Orid. Le lieu saint. Vide Exod. xxvi. 33.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 85 Levites came to offer their assistance in his preparations, but he declined it while Rachel on her knees in the court of the Tabernacle, holding her right hand extended on the head of her lamb, and presenting with her left the doves, awaited the instant of sacrifice. Nor was it long ere the sacred flame blazed before the Lord. Eleazar seized the victims, and shed their blood on the north side of the altar. The sacri. ficer að:'ed an epbah of pure four, and pouring on them new oil, they were enveloped with a consuming flame. Rachel prostrate invoked in a low and humble voice the Majesty of heaven while Eleazar in a voice more audi. ble, implored of him a propitious héar- ·ELEAZARI 88 ELEAZAR, AND NAPHTALI. ing of the prayers of the pious Benjaminite-and to spare the life of him for whom she was so cordially interested. From her words, he had no doubt it was for her father she felt so great anxiety-and this idea combined with the recollection of his brother's danger, rendered his prayer more earnest while the similarity of sentiment which he felt-in his own breast with that of Rachel, augmented if possible, the flame of love she had kindled! there, and which raged with inextinguishable ardour. - n The sacrifice was scarcely completed, when Eleazar suddenly started up-his eyes sparkling with joy. Ile ran to ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 8 Rachel, crying, “Hear what saith the Lord-Return to your house-health is restored to the object of your anxiety.' Render thanks to the God of your fathers and think of the Levite who thanks you for having chosen him your sacrificer." Rachel knelt and adored. She arose -and having dried up her tears—she cast on Eleazar .a look of gratitude, and im radiately departed. .. The son of Sadoc dared not detain her-his eyes followed her-he sighed --but the recollection of his brother roused him from his reverie-he hastened his return, and found the house

·88 ELEAZAR. AND NAPHTALI.
decked with garlands—Naphtali was
out of danger, and inquiring for his
brother-and weak as he was, he at
the threshold received Eleazar in his
arms, whom surprise and joy had “al.
most deprived of sense.

·EVEAZAR AND
Naturpui sa
CANTO JI.
Now was all Israel engaged in acts
of friendship and of festive joy. Tire
old and young-husbånds and wives--
fathers and mothers-all clothed in
their best apparel. Every one set out
his table at his door, covered with
inyiting delicacies
with delicious
food. The young virgins, clothed in
linen, and crowned with white roses,
danced through the city to the sound
of citterns and cymbals. Parents and
friends assembled--the various tribes
-
.

·90 १० ELEAZA AND NAPHTALI. intermingled-elders, priests, and labourers--the inhabitants of the city and the hamlet-formed but one familyhand joined in hand indicated their union in the name of Jacob-embracing, they exclaimed, "We are children of the same father-we enjoy the blessings -- we obey the same laws.” Immense as were their numbers, they seemed to have but one soul in the celebration of this delightful festival of kindness and amity. sanie Sadoc was in the midst of them accompanied by his two sons. AN pressed upon his steps wherever he appeared, all hands were extended toward heaven-the prayers of all were for the pontiff and his family. Every one ·91/ E).EAZAR AND NapatẠli. contended for a nearer view of the amiable Naphtali, so happily restored by Heaven-every one congratulated his father, and answered, with tears of joy, the tears of gratitude which stood in the old man's eyes, Naphtali still pale and languid, supported by Eleazar, walked slowly by the side of his father. The eges of Eleazar were constantly on hiin, and his look expressed the mingled sensations of joy and anxiety. Naphtali would at times encourage him with a smile-but, alas! too evident was the sadness that accompanied it-each had a secret as yet untold--the reserve of which, the ardpur and intimacy of their friendship rendered to their con- ·12 ELEAZAI AND NAPHTALI. viction criminal-Loth were disquieted - and in their external expressions of affection, their consciences accused them of withholding the confidence it demanded. . As soon as they returned home without communicating their design - without evincing their intention by slightest indication of it -- they withdrew from their friends and walked, by different ways, to, he lone. ly extremity of the field that fed them. -By the side of a rapid streain-the ancient boundary of their inheritance, under the shade of a large fig-tree, planted by the Canaanites grassy seat, where the two brothers were acc ustomed of an evening to rewas a ·98 EX EAZAR AND NAHTALI. EL PAZAR 93 tire, and meditate upon the holy law -and, relaxing from their rural labours, to cultivate their mutual friend. ship. To this place they had always come together--this day produced the first instance of their meeting there “ I have been waiting, for you,” said they, Both arriving at the same time, They now eagerly embraced-looked and embraced again. When seated by each other—Naphtali prepared to speak, but was prevented by Eleazar. “0, Naphtali!-how great the affiction that has threatened us - what thanks do we not owe to Heaven, for your restoration.-Prostrate before the holy ark; in ineffectual prayers and supplications that the Eternal would ·94 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTA PT. spare our youth—and grant us a longer day for the perfection of our love was hopeless--no, auspicious sign answered my prayers. It is evident, said I-Heaven this day presents to me the cup of his wrathi, he has placed a cloud before his face, impervious to my prayers—he will deprive me of my brother.-—And I was returning, Naphtali, not to mourn you' dead-but to die with you. - Alas! what are we Naphtali !—how great our weakness ! -how irresistible the power of a sen. timent-until this day a stranger to my soul.-In the bosom of despaik under such ar accumulation of grief as rendered existence imperceptible, but by its overwhelming pressure-I saw the young and beauteous Rachel ·ELEAZAR AND NAKITA 95. --the daughter of the shepherd Abdias. My heart flew towards her—as the light chaff unto the precious amber.-Oh, Naphtali, had you seçn her, on her knees, holding in her bands two doves her eyes raised to hearen-filled with tears-adorned with grief-more lovely in her sorrow.—She prayed for her father!-he dwells in Benjamin-in the hamlet of Luza she implored the Most lligh to save the author of her days--to spare the life of him to whom she owed her own!--Iler piety-her affecting virtue-was depicted in her modest countenance-her eyes beamed holy reverence and filial love. I confess, Naphtali—to you, I should confess it-when I looked at the lovely Rachel-1 ceased to think on you, it ·96 ELEAZÉR AND NAPATA: 1. was the only moment of my life. Pardon me, Naphtali !-grant meimme. diate pardon-and await not as an inducement the experience of a passion whose first and instant consequence was,--the oblivion of such a brother !" Thus he said, and hid his face in the 'bosom of Naphtali. Naphtali looked at him, and went " Alas, Eleazar, I have need of the .same consideration—the pardon must be reciprocal - love like you like you I burn with a devouring fire! My neart, which could scarce contain the increasing sentiment of our friendship --which to conceive desire-to feel regret—had then to seek the object of ·YLEAZAR AND'NAPHTALI. LEAZAR NÁPuȚALI. 9 its want or wish-that heart with a hias involuntary and irresistible, agitated and disquieted—inclines, now, to another.-It presents it desiresit seeks a happiness-u here Eleazar is not all!—this happiness I know notalas !--I no longer know myself!-I feeit my soul this instant, tormentedtortured—like the stone in a sling impelled by a giant's arm—the next, absorbed by the contemplation of her who hadnts my imagination where'er I 'turn—I am isolated by my desires—to see again to hear—to speak to her the time that passes--and she absentseems to me no longer \ife!--the world -to me-contracted to the spot where I may again meet hér.-I am nigh you - sigh-I, embrace you—but I am ·98 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. not happy!-Oh, my Eleazar-pardon melor rather let us mutually be assured--that our souls are still the same - the sacred flame of friendship has not abated of its ardour-it still animates-sustains us is all by which we live-but there is a different flame consumes us and we die!" Naphtali then related how, on the rocks of Rimmon, he kad saved the life of the fair Israelite—that at the first sight of her, he felt the flame, thenceforth to be his destiny.-That he knew nothing of her but her beauty azd her kindness that he knew not even her name and drawing from his bosom the veil she had dropped, he shewed it to his brother-unfolded it ·YALEAZAR AND NAPATALI. kissed it-and with trembling hand placed it next bis heart. Then suddenly reproaching himself with having occupied Eleazar so long with his own concern—" Eleazar,” said he, " my distress, my distraction is great--is intolerable -- but there is one way in whith 'it will certainly admit of allevia. tion--it is, in the endeavour to restore your happiness. Nor'will the attain. ment of its object be doubtful or diffi. cult. You know that the fair Rachel lives with her father Abdias, in the bamlet of Luza. Think you that a Hebrew shepherd will refuse his daughter to a son of the High-priestor that he will not rather offer thanks to Heaven in the presentation of her? Can you have a doubt that the heart of Rachel ·100 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. will beat with pleasure and with pride, in learning that she is destined for the young Eleazar-already celebrated for his virtue, piety, and the many amiable qualities which make all Israel love him with all but his brother's love. Be assured, my. Eleazar, I have only to mention to our venerable father your passion for Rachel--and Rachel will be your wife. He will send me instantly to Luza-I shall find Abdias I shall obtain his daughter fer you- I will bring her to you myself-aná your happiness will render me more paient in the hope or search of mine. Eleazar consented to the suggestions of Naphtali--but Rachel no longer sufficed for the completion of his happi- ·ŹLEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 101 ness—the discovery of the young and beautiful stranger, as the object of his brother's happiness, was necessary to his own. He thought of her--talked of her—while Naphtali spoke only of the daughter of Abdias-the mutual interruptions of either were, to forget his own, in his brother's interest - and from the moment of their mutual confidence, they seemed to have exchanged the object of their affections. Summoned by the voice of Sadocthey returned to the old man. Naphtali immediately informed his father of his brother's passion.. “ Why, iny son,” said the Pontiff, extending his hand to Eleazar,“ why have you not yourself made known to me this desire · ·102 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. son," of your soul-know you not, my children, that to add to your happiness, is, to augment my own. Ah, tiinid Elea. zar, come to my bosom--and congratulate your father, on the pleasure with which he confirins your choice.”—Then addressing Naphtali – Prepare, my ” said he, " to set out to-morrow for Luza. Mount the patient animal that aids us in the labours of the field take with you two measures of new barley meal--and add some dried raisins, dates, and wild-figs-present these simple presents to the father of young Rachel, and request him, in my namie, td bestow his daughter on my son- And for her I will give you the eardrops, and two rings of gold, that were your mother's.”

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 103 Thus he said the preparations were made and on the morrow, at the dawn of day, Naphtali was on his road to Luza, It was but a day's journey_and before the setting of the sun, Naphtali artived at the hamlet. He inquired for the house of Abdias, which being sheivn him, he knocked at the gate, and an old man presented himself. " What do you desire?" said he, “ Are you one of our brethren?-But though you be not, honour my mansion by reposing here this night.” Naphtali bowed before Abdias. “ Blessed be heaven!” said he.." My ·104 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. business at Luza is, to offer you, on the part of Sadoc, the pontiff of the living God, these presents--the fruits of the earth-the gifts of the Eterna). My father Sadoc requests •you to hestow your daughter Rachel on my brother Eleazar, whose name must have already reached you, and whom israel considers as the worthy successor of Aaron and of Saduc." “ Are you not mistaken, my-son?" replied the old man, smiling. “Is it to the shepherd Abdias, the most obscure, and least wealthy of the children of Jezzini, that, the high priest of the Hebrews sends to demand his daughter?” “ Yes:” said Naphtali, “it is to you.

·ELEAZAH AND NAPHTALI, 103 All descended from the same fatherin our tribes-in our families—among ourselves there is no other distinction of rank, than the respect riar virtue.-The children of Levi hold the censer--it is 'their brethren who pray-the most just are the most ex. celierit.” due to supe- Abdias answered only by seizing the hand of Naphtali, and pressing it betweert his own. He then attested heaven, that, from that moment, his daughter was the spouse of Eleazar." She js in the fields," said he; “ she has not yet led home her flock-hut the san, already sunk behind the mountains of Seir, announcos to me that she will soon return.-Enter, my son, enter my rus- ·106 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. tic roof-I will go 'and select the kid that shall be slain for you.' Fle then conducted Naphtali into his peaceful dwelling, and instantly went out. Naphtali, as the brother of Eleazar, in this lonely cottage, felt a pleasure a tender interest -a spontaneous tranquillity—to himself inexplicable. In this humble asylum every thing attracted his cye and fixed his attention. He viewed the white earthen vases, ranged in order, to receive the milk the rushen , baskets hung beneath-the shepherd's crook—the garland of flow- .ers (now faded) which ai the late feast, adorned the lovely Rachel-every ob- ·ELEAZAR AND NAPÄTALI. 107 ject spoke to the heart of Naphtalihe became agitated, but he discarded every idea but that of his brother's interest, and attributed to friendship the emotions that disturbed him. The bleating of a flock returning from pasture was heard near the mansion. Naphtali trembled — dared not to move and asked himself the cause. He looked for Abdias-he called him -the old wan came and led by the hand his daughter. Naphtali viewed her-it was she! It was the fair Israelite whose life he had .saved !- It was the lovely stranger whose image, always, present in his. heart, rendered inextinguishable the flame that con: sumed it! .F 3 ·108 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. Motionless, as the traveller surprised by a storm in the desert, he stood, with extended arms, suppressing the excla. mation just reaay to escape him. Rachel with downcast eyes, silently advanced. . My daughter,” said Abdias, "you are to consider this day as the happiest of your life. The virtuous Eleazar, the son and heir of the high priest, desires you for his spouse. Wis brother, whom you see, has just received my vow-grant him your faith, as he has mine--and : render thanks to heaven, who has deigned to honour your youth and my gray hairs with so distinguish. ed an alliance."

·ELEAZAR AND NAPNTALI. 100 At these words, Rachel raised her head, and cast a bashful glance on the brother of her spouse—she recognised him-she gave a shriek-her head fell back-paleness o'erspread her countenance her knees trembled_bentand she fell motionless into the arms of her father. Naphtali ran to support her---Abdias•recalled her to life. Rachel, thus recovered, assured her father than she was now well, and pretended that the cause of her illness arose from thirst;then, looking at Naphtali with marked expression, she requested him to bring her drink. Naph. tali, who too well understood her, filled with pure water a wooden vase-kissed ·110 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. the brim--and, almost breathless, and with trembling hand, presented it. Rachel 'touched it with her lips, and returned it to him. Then turning to the old man "Father," said she, with feeble voice, you have given me to the son of Sadoc-it is my duty silently to obey. My heart will be ready to follow my hand, if the brcther of Eleazar will, from his own mouth, assure me that he has come thus far to call me-Sister! She accompanied these words, ad dressed to Naphtali, with a look of love combined with anger. It penetrated the yery soul of the young llebrew Jis agonizing struggle is inexpressible ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTAL). 111 - Friendship was the support of virtue. His honour - friendship-love-toward the absent Eleazar, surmounted his passion for the present Rachel. “'Ycs,” said he, with impassioned accent, " yes;-yes;--my brother dies for yon-his happiness-his destiny-his life-depend on the obtaining you. I have requested--I have desired—the office of presenting you his vows; and on my knees I repeat his earnest and respectfuprayer.” 0 He spake these words with inappropriate haste, doubtful of his power to finish them, and with averted eyes he fell at her feet. Conscious that he had performed his duty—that he had pre ·112 ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. served his fidelity to his bother-his heart was less oppressed ; and in the languid tranquillity in which his virtuous struggle left him, he awaited the reply of Rachel. The lovely Israelite heard him, and alternately turned pale and blushed. She withdrew from Naphtali, having made a sign to him to rise, and approaching her father, astonished by her long silence"I am satisfied,” said she, -“I will espouse Eleazar-I only request the liberty of devoting the remainder of the day to my companions, --I love them- love the spot where Rachel has received her life-where bachel was a long time happy !-Tomorrow she must quit them !- The ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 113 messenger of Eleazar will, doubtless, . 'forgive my tears !” Thus she said, and with hurried steps withdrew. + Her father endeavoured to excuse to the sorrowful Raphtali his daughter's tears. Alas l'unhappy in himself, he had to hide his own. He spoke of nothing but his brother, and of the respect the care-ond affection of which Rachel was to become the object. Thus · he amused the mind of Abdias, and prevented his perception, of, the trouble that distracted him. Night had extended her sable voi!

·114 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. when Rachel returned. Her countenance was serene--and she called Naphtali her brother. Mindful of fulfilling all the duties of hospitality toward him, she prepared a bed of lamb-skins for his repose that night-provided the banquet-decked the table with flowers-and, seated by the young Hebrew, presented him a part of the kid. Ab. dias, contented, smiled on his daughter. -Naphtali dared not venture a lookand Rachel, without troublir: him with questions or entreaties, made a short evening and retired to rest, At the dawn or day, Rachel was prepared for the journey. Her father had resolved to accompany her, and Naph- ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 115 tali thanked heaven for his resolution. -Rachel carried with her the golden ornaments which Sadoc had sent her, and mounted the patjent animal of which Naphtali held the reins.-Abdias, by his side, directed them the way. Naphtali walked with drooping head, not daring to cast a look on her whom he conducted.- Rachel silently observed him, repeating to herself the persuasion that Naphtali had never loved ber--that when he sayed her life, his motive was but pity--that he had requested the cruel office of demanding her for another-and that the gloomy melancholy which she saw in his coun. tenance, was but a trait of character

·116
ELEAZAR. AND NAPHTALI,
Then she would feel a secret vexation,
which she mistook for hatred ;-her
heart applauded her --exhorted, and
promised an encreasing hatred of the
man who had thus disdained her. Still
she availed herself of the situation of
the
young Hebrew to keep her eyes on
him incessantly — reproaching herself
with their unmerited direction, but
which she still found irresistible.
Abdias, long acquainted with the
shortest roads that led to Shiloh, took
a different route from that which Naph.
tali had followed the preceding day.
They tračersed a long plain, covered
only with palm-trees-passed by Mount
Ephraim; and arrived about the third

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 117 hour at the foot of the rocks of Rimmon. Naphtali, who followed Abdias without observing the places that he passed, ascended after him by a narrow, winding path, beset with briars. The difficul. ties of the way, and his continued attention to the safety and accommodation of Rachel, diverted, for a time, his gloomy thoughts. After a long and troublesome journey, they reached the summit of those desert rocks; there, casting a look, before him, Naphtali recognised the spot where Rachel had implored his help. He stopped-he trembled-and, by an involuntary movement, his eyes met those of Ra. chel. Rachel's awaited them, but en dured them not. Her head sunk upon ·118 ETEAZAR AND NAPHTALI, her bosom--and 'with her hands she hid lier tears. Naphtali reclining on a part of the rock, Abdias hastened towards him. "Let us rest, my son, said he, we have performed half of our journey let us sit down awhile." Abdias, thus saying, extended his arms to his daughter-helped her to alight, and led her to Naphtali; when, having-placed them by the side of each other, he seated himself. After a silence long and sad, Abdias wishing to break in upon it, asked Naphtali at what time, and on what Occasion x Eleazar had seen Rachel. Naphtali then related, how she had come to the Tabernacle-that his bro- ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 119 ther had offered the sacrifice of two doves and a lamb, which Rachel had presented for the recovesy of her father. “Of me!" cried Abdias, addressing bis daughter, “ what vain alarms have caused this anxiety. in you for my life-a life never yet.endangered ? Why conceal from me your intention? Why has not thy filial piety made known to thy father the prayers and supplications of which he was the object ?” “ You are mistaken," replied Ra. chel, " the sacrifice was not for you.- At the dawn of the saine day, I was pursued by the Moabites--and ware dering afterwards, terrified, among these rocks, my life' was saved by the ·120 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. timely succour of a young hunter. I left him dying who had rescued me from death! I returned to find him, but I saw him no more. Anxious for his fate-trembling with apprehension that 'he had fallen into the hands of our enemies, I sat out, when night commenced, to bear my humble offering to the house of God, and to implore the safety of him to whom I owed my own.—Eleazar prayed for my father I prayed for my benefactor!" At these words, Rachel blushed; and Naphtali, transported, exclaimed, o Heaven! what do I hear? Was it for the too happy mortal....?” Yes," replied Rachel, looking at him, " it ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 121 was for my deliverer !-I thought his life in danger, -I thought - but I was mistaken! I have since found, that he enjoyed both life and happiness, I have since found that he had alike forgotten his own danger-and myobligation to him !” At these last words, Naphtali arose with haste and agitation—"Father,” said he, to the on man, “ let us be gone---my brother expects us.”

·No text on this page.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 123 CANTO III. THE sun had sunk beneath the western hills, and the scattered flocks collected, slowly descended from the mountains, when Abdias, his daughter, and Naphtali, approaching Shiloh, perceived the purple tent which enclosed the Tabernacle. At the sight of the holy place they stopped and bowed; and, after a short prayer, continuing their journey, they soon arrived at the gates.

·124 ELEÁZAR AND NAPHTALI. There Sadoc and Eleazar, followed by their relatives and friends, had long awaited them. . A chosen company of blooining virgins, clothed in long white robes, and bearing lilies in their hands, presented themselves to Rachel, -encompassed her-crowned her with flowers, and conducted her, as in triumph, to the pontiff, who advanced to receive her. She cast herself at his feet_Sadoc raised her, embraced her, and presented her to Eleazar, whose heart palpitated with love and joy. Rachel was silent. Eleazar, transported with happiness; looked around for his brother.--He called him-stretched out his arms to receive him, and, turning to Rachel, joined

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI.
125
their hands, and pressed them to his
bosom. Thus walked Eleazar in the
midst of all Ire loved. The pontiff, with
Abdias, followed--the young virgins
preceded them, and the inhabitants
of Shilolı, assembled on the way, filled
the air with shouts of congratulation,
on the union of Eleazar and Rachel.
Arrived at the house of the high
priest, Sadoc publicly announced that,
on the next day, the marriage of his son
should be consecrated by sacrifice-and
the people separated to their homes.
to.liis
Sadoc presented to.
guests the
fruits and refreshments prepared for
them; and directing his attention more
particularly to Abdias, he proposed to
• G2

·126 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. him that he should pass the remainder of his days with his beloved daughter at Shiloh," Let us be united," said the good old Sadoc; 5 age has need of friends; but where, at our age, can we look for them but in our family? Tlie name of father' obtains that indulgence a father so easily repays. Under that endearing name, „we grow old with impunity.—The divided attentions of Rachel shall be made up to you by Eleazar,—what I lose in Eleazar, i shall fmd in Rachel. Our children will be confounded in ourăffections-our riches in them will be doubled.” Abdias promised not to leave them, and Rachel thanked him for his promise. She received with gratitude the ·ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. 127 attentions of Eleazar ; and Naphtali, endeavouring to conceal lis emotions, smiled and congratulated both. • Thus they passed the evening; and when the half-extinguished lamps announced the lateness of the hour, Sadoe desired his sons to pass the night in the house of a relation--and to the house of Phanuel, they withdrew to sleep. Båt sleep, that night, approached the eyes of neither. Eleazar perceived the sadness of Naphtali, and attributing to his fair Israelite the cause, he endeavoured by talking of her, to encourage his hopes, and promised soon to join him in the search. "Naphtali strove, but, alas! in vain, to dispel his sadness, by ·128 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. talking of his brother's happiness as the spouse of Rachel. Elcazar still returned to her whom he presumed the object of Naphtali's inquietude-he could only be happy in his brother's ease ; but in seeking to assuage the wound, he inflamed it to his torture. The dawn of day appeared, and Eleazar chose from a number of beau. tiful garments, the most beautiful. Naphtali assisted him-disposed his long tresses to flow gracefully under his rich tiara, and covered his shoulders with a long purple robe, a prize which, in the warlike games of Israel, the skill and courage of Naphtali had obtained. Thus decorated was the happy Eleazar, beautiful in his youth, ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 129 and in the animation which good fortune inspires ; thus were the gifts of nature and fortune adorned with the more precious tribute of fraternal love, - and thus to Sadoc they returned. They found the Levites in their festa! dress—and the young women and the people assembled, awaiting at the gate the lovely bride. She appeared clothed in white--her face was covered with a broidered veil. Timid, agitated, and trembling, 'she walked by her father's side, having refused the proffered support of Naphtali. Eleazar, transported with joy, flew as chief of the Levites arrived first at the tabernacle-brought forth the victims, and presentutt'them himself to Sadoc. Twelve rams were ·130 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. immolated. The people joined in prayer with the pontiff-desired with him that the present Rachel, beautiful as the former, might be fruitful as Leah -and that the bride and bridegroom might together, like Sarah and Abraham, descend into the vale of years. Th the same order in which they wentyhey returned, proceeding through the town-singing hymns of old-and strowing the way with flowers. This ceremony ended, Sadoc presented for their signature the engage ment they had mutually contracted. The band of Eleazar trembled with joy-tfit land of Rachel trembled more.-Naphtali had retired-his brom ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI, 131 ther sought him; found him, and . brought him to partake of the marriage feast. He placed him by the side of. Rachel, and while Sadoc id the honours of the feast with his assembled family, the happy, the amiable Eleazar spoke of nothing but of his hope and desire always to live with two objects so equally dear to him,'anct. that he might see them love each others as he loved them both. Alas, unhappy pair!-they promised; and tliey blushed !--conscious that they indeed. felt all that they expressed they trembled !. But Naptitali could confide in a virtue fortified by friendshipRachel was destitute of this double guard, and alarmed by the dan- G 3 ·132 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. ger, sought to escape it. Her project was instantly conceived, and, too desperate for delay, she availed herself of a moment of tumult on rising from the feast, to desire a private conversa tion with the wretched Naphtali. They walked without looking at each · Other towards the solitary fig-tree plant- -vu oy'the side of the stream. Rachel seated herself against its venerable trunk, and requested Naphtali to sit near her; then, in a firm, determined, tone: “ The time," said she, " is preciodis, and will not admit of dissimulation; let us not strive to hide our struggles but make victory sure I love you! --the passion that disturbs us is mu- ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 133 tual, violent, and inveterate-I hate myself while I confess it to you !-but your virtue has left me no other means to equal it. “Of all that has passed since that fatal day when I first presented myself to the eyes of Eleazar, I am ignorant may I ever remain so,---of this I•am, alas, too certain--that you have-saeria ficed to a brother's love, the love you had .for me!—The sacrifice is greatis noble--but you are unhappy! Yet, in having sacrificed love to friendship, you have friendship to console you still-and l' ai sensible that we ought not to complain, when to the glory of having dune, our duty can add the consolawe ·134 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. tion which a tender sentiment in spires. “I, Naphtali,, have no brother ! I am the wife of Eleazar-but it is you I would have chosen-it is you, who saved my life !_Thus conscious, will not the admiration your noble, but distressing sacrifice excites in me,—the uriinual observance of your struggles — your triumphs—will it not daily strengthen that sentiment which I should now extinguishYou would be in vain a conqueror-your victories would enfeeble me! The more sorrow ful I saw you, the more amiable, you would appear.--I might conceal my own safferings--but how could I endure yours |-- from this state of danger ·ELEAZAR AND NAPATALI. 136 it is for you to relieve me.-Fly! fly! far from this place. Though it be vot necessary to your virtue I fear-I feel it is to mine!-nor is it less so to your brother's happiness, which can never duly be the object of my attentionwhile you are with me.-Think, invent some specious pretext-but go far from Rachel !If it be possible to eradicate froin your breast this fatal passion return-if not--for ever leave me!" She said, and turned toward the house.Naphtali sejzed her hand-but scarcely had he touched it, than, alarmed; he withdrew his own-endeavoured to colleot his scattered powers--and without raising his eyes to Rachel, addressed her thus :

·136 ELEAZAR AND NAPATALI. " Oh, Rachel, -Oh, my sister, -do not fear-it is to your last words, only. I will reply. I will depart this night! - I will never see you more! -never shall I see again—my brother !--pardon my tears! guiltless they fall—for him! I feel I should have fled, without urep.y—but I must inform you (it is Deeksary to your repose, and to my brother's peace)—that Eleazar has not only never suspected that I had' seen you first, he is ignorant (and I would have him so) that Rachel is that Israelite........it is enough my sister-det this interview remain an eternal secret between my heart and your virtuelet not .Eleazar ever know this final test of friendship!--his happiness would ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 137 be for ever lost-and fruitless would be my sacrifice. “ There remains but one more duty to perform-and it is due unto your honour-I would return into your hands the only pledge of a love no longer innocent-take back this veil, whicit, you let fall at my feet--this veil, which, from that moment, has been the train panion of my bosom-it is bere, Rachel!........Let us return-I tremble, lest this secret conversation become a crime-may it be at least useful to my brother. - To-morrow, when Eleazar shall.lament me gone; .and you shall be his only comforter say to him, Ra.. chel, Naphtali has confided to me his sufferings-he cannot live but in ·138 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. the possession of his lovely stranger and he is gone to die, regretting her!' The event, Rachel, will justify the assertion!” He presented the veil-she took it, and threw it on her head with. out reply. l'hey returned together to the house -Sadoc met them -- and embracing bir daughter, in gentle terms complain. ed of her long absence, and conducted her to her anxious and inquiring family. Naphtali had separated, and studiously avoiding Rachel, sought his brother. - But the society of Rachel and. Naph, tali, on which the happiness of Eleazar, iso. constantly, so.continually depended, could not be long withdrawņ ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 130 + unnoticed. They had scarce quitted the festive hall, when perceiving them to be absent, heimmediately went outfollowed them at a distance--and, seeing them seated together, took a long circuit, to approach,them unperceived. Nor was diffidence, suspicion, or curiosity, the motive. He suspected no secrets in his brother, and had therefore no intention to surprise them. The happy and affectionate Eleazar, without design, without réfection, with that frank and open confidence which always accompanies as real friendship, resigned himself to the levity of the moment, and not fearing ºto offend those by whom he could not be offend. ed, easily allowed in himself all that he would as easily have pardaned.

·140 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. On his approaching them, he saw Naphtali deliver to Rachel the veil he had borne in his bosom, and which Eleazar knew to be that of his fair Israelite-he heard the last words, pronoured by Naphtali-those words and the veil discovered all his brother's sufferings, his brother's virtue, and the distress of Rachel, were at once revealnear Motionless he stood his head drooped upon his breast -- his arms were extended toward the groundand; supported by the fig-tree, he saw - he heard--no more! Darkness o'erspread his eyes, and his soul, subdued by an astounding sorrow, resigņod her consciousness-as one who by lightning struck, sees but the flash, and dies!

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 141 In the mean time, Rachel and his brother had re-entered the house. When Eleazar recovered, he looked around-he saw himself alone, and in his freedom felt a gloomy joy. He ad. vanced to the border of the stream he viewed its foaming waters-tried-its depth-and suddenly abandoning himself to the suggestions of despair: -- “God of goodness,” he exclaimed, " I here appeal but to thy justice !-Were I alone to suffer, I should humbly bow, in reverence to thy divine decrees but my wife, my brother, are wretched--and I alone the cause ! -they are wretched, and each succeeding day will but enhance their misery—a misery':entailed on them so long, as I shall see the ·142 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTACI. it is no light!--to refuse their sacrifice is no longer in my power--to accept less impossible--and it is forbidden me to lament with them. All that can render life desirable, love, friendship, 'virtue,"combine and separate, with perverse effect, to multiply my torments Oh, Heaven! be my judge-my brother would die for me-alas !-his death would but add to my distraction-mine would restore his peace. Eleazar was just going to throw himself into the stream, when, casting a look behind, he saw the house that Thouse if which his good old father lived, whose fostering hand had reared him in his tender years—where now he heard the voice; sf mirth, the songs of ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 143 joy, the prayers to heaven for his happiness. He saw the grassy seat on which, in infancy,.' Naphtali and he liad passed whole days in mutual testimohies of their early love, and ever until then had sworn to live and die together-even the wild-fig-tree, like an old and honest friend, seemed to reprove him-he clasped its aged trunk, a stay against himself. . These horrid transports were now succeeded by a calmer sorrow—he wept his tears relieved lin-restored his reason, and the mildness of his nature. - No-No,” said he, ai I will not by a voluntary death profine this hallowed spot—this blest abode of nature in her. dearest amities !-Her my father has ·144 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. embraced me--here have I witnessed the thousand testimonies of a brother's love—the place is koly, sacred to peace, and it is sacrilege to violate it, even by a legitimate sorrow.-Let me fly, let me fly,-and in he wild and lonely desert seek some unblest spot, repulsive to society—to scenes of social happiness and affection-where all in cheerless sympathy may suit the solitary purpose of despair!”—Then with burried pace he ascended the bank of the stream, sought the most pervious parts of the rocks to expedite his flight, crossed the high mountains, and plunged into the dreary desert. wa - 'In the meanwhile Naphtali, alarmed, and with incesspuit question, sought his ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI, 145. brother. Rachel, Sadoc, and Abdias imagined him at the Tabernacle, engaged in prayer. The night advanced, and Naphtali, sad and restless, returned from the Tabernacle—then again resumed his ineffectual search in the adjoining field-stopped åt the wild-figtree, and with loud and tremulous voice called Eleazar !--he hcard but the noise of the rapid stream, rolling precipitant from rock to rock. He returned to his family and friends-questioned with impatience—and negligent of answer, again went forth, returned, and was informed that his brother had been seen to approach the border of the stream. Neglecting Rachel-unmindful of his prothise--insensible of his passion with a kng and lighted ·146 ELBAZAR AND NAPITALI. pine-branch, he flew to the rapid torrent. The young Levites, friends of the unhappy Eleazar, followed in like manner. 'They passed through all the byepaths-crossed ihe rugged rocks, and spread themselves among the mountains with incessant cry.. Sadoc, Abdias, and Rachel remained on the hither side-they heard their mournful exclamations and the vain echo-the glooin of night and the errant lights gleaming througk the ambient obscurity, added to the awful and icy terror which took possession of their soy!s. . Thus passed the night, and Eleazar was not found. Long after the break ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 147 of day, Naphtali, with disordered hair, a ghastly paleness in his countenance, his feet lacerated and bleeding-returned to Sadoc. In mournful silence he pressed his hand-regardless of Ra. chel. Ile stood mute and motionless -just touched with his lips the refreshment that was offered to him, and påssed it to his companions; then throwing around him a wolf's skin, he took uis bow and fatal arrows, and was again departing, when an old shepherd presented himself, bearing in his hand a garment, soiled with sand and slime. Naphtali started back with an ejaculation of alarm, and the old shepherd' addressing himself to Sadoc, “Do you recollect,” said he, “the dress worn by your son ?” and placed at his feet the. H ·148 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. tiara of Eleazar, and the purple robe! Sadoc saw them, and fell into the arms of Abdias.- Naphtali threw himself on the well-known mantle, ciying, "Oh, my brother!"--and starting up, maddened by grief, he broke bis bow, his quiver, and core in shreds his tunic ; then rushing forwards to the old shepherd, “ Tell me," said he, in the wild accent of despair, “where-when did you find these things?” 66 This morning at the break of day,” replied the affrighted old man, “ near that rugged rock from whence the waters of the torrent fall—the tiara was at the edge, che mantle in the midst of the rapid waves." Naphtali looked at the old shep- ·ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. 149 herd, and made a sign to him to with. draw. The young Levites. hastened round the dejected Naphtali, but he declined their attendance, and desired to be alone. Sighing, they' withdrew, and announced through Shiloh the mournful news of Eleazar's death. Great was, the lamentation of the people for the loss of this object of their love-they covered their heads with ashes, and imposed on themselves ten days of mourning. All Israel mourned the son of Israel's Benefactor. Sadoc restored to sense by the attentions of Rachel, heard the general voice of lamentation--he fell on his H 2 ·150 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. knees raised his hands, and with feeble voice exclaimed, “ Alas! my Eleazar!”–Naphtali ran to him, and falling on the old man's bosom endeavoured to console him but his voice failed in all but the joint invocation of his brother's name!

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI.
151
CANTO IV.
SEVENTY days had elapsed.-Sadoc,
by the course of nature, on the brink
of the grave, an humble hope, had long
awaited death—in him life languished,
but the affection of Naphtali, and the
attentions of Rachel, had renewed its
course.
Abdias, now his constant companiony
would often talk with him of Eleazar,
whom both called their son--and by

·152 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. that common name, rendered their mutual condolence more effective of its end. Rachel, in ile ciress of sorrow, her head still covered with the mourning reil, divided her attentions to the comfort of them both-while Naphtali, abandoned to regret, or diffident of approaching Rachel, passed whole days, sitting at the foot of the fig-treewhere he had raised a tomb of turfand, under a polished stone, had deposited all that remained with him of his brother! - this humble cenotaph awused his grief-thither he repaired at the break of day--there seemed to suffe: less, in the idea that he was nearer him he mourned.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 153 In the meanwhile Sadoc, the religious observer of the precepts of Moses, seeing the period of Rachel's mourning. terminated, summoned Naphtali.- “My son,” said he, “ you know the Haw of Moses--it ordains that you take to you as a wife your brother's widow the dear name of Eleazar should not be lost in Israel-it is for your children to revive it." 0 ► Naphtali heard and blushed.-His heart, agitated by opposing sentiments, reproved him for the joy he felt-fraternal piety seemed offended by the happiness lois duty.would impose on him.

·154 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI, “ Oh, my father,” he replied, "I liave long loved Rachel-in obeying the law, I but gratify a most ardent wish--but Eleazar is no more!-dare I be happy :-Pardon this language, Rachel I ask pardon of ye all, while I stipulate that, on the consummation of our narriage, a retirement, perpetual and recluse, may cherish in me the recollection of his worth, and auginent, if possible, my just tribute of sorrow to his memory. - 1 “My son,” interrupted Sadoc, “ I have anticipated your desires and have apnounced to the elders of the people my intention to resign into their hands the censer and the ephod. My feeble ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 155 arms can no longer iinmolate the holy. victims-my mind, depressed by age and sorrow, is no longer capable of duly celebrating the praises of the Eternal. Ilad my Eleazar lived! — my strength might stilhave sufficed. The elders would have chosen you—but I have declined for you the honour.- had already read your heart-and knew its need of solitude.-Yes, Naphtali, let us seclude ourselveslet us retire from the world--the unhappy are best together-Abdias, Rachel, and I, can , love and sympathize with you." He then took the hand of Rachel and joining it with that of his son, de. clared according to the law, that "ibe fruits of their marriage should inherit '.13

·156
ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI.
the name and rights of Eleazar-and
implored the God of Jacob to bless this
new alliance, which rendered him a
second time the father of Rachel.
Naphtali and Rachel heard-and,
scarcely venturing, interchanged a look
of sorrow, piety, and timid love.
Thenceforth, Naphtali, Rachel, Sa.
doc, and Abdias, became strangers to
the world-considered themselves as
alone upon the earth and lived but in
the relative duties of piety, family
friendship and affection; and in the
exercise of their rural labours.
1
Abdias, with the price of his house
and fucks at Luza, enlarged the field

·NAPHTALI. ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 157 of Sadoc, and planted there the vine and olive-tree; the field fed the fainily, and its superfluity: the poor—the poor, whom it was their duty to remember, were all of mankind, whom they had not forgotten. Naphtali arose with the first blush of day to open the fertile bosom of the earth, and sow the nutritious seed-to prune the vine - support its tender shoots-or cultivate the olive. And when the sun, in his meridian power, inflamed the wide horizon, and returned him to his peaceful home, Rachel would come forth to meet him--her cheerful aspect beaming with correspondent influchce on her happy spouse. Then hand in hand, advancing to the ·158 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. table where the old men sat, Naphtali would receive the compensation of his labours in their welcome. The diligent Rachel prepared their simple fare, of which together they partook, with love and friendship for its zest-and often was the feast prolonged by the harmony of its consequent society. Then to the field all went to share its labours and when the sun was hidden in the western clouds, Rachel with Naphtali, proceeded to his brother's tomb--with bended knee, and head reclined upon the monumental stone, would join him in silent meditationor if they sometimes spoke-it was always of Eleazar; to recount his actions or repeat his words; never did other conversation e'er profane this hallowed ·NAPHTALI ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. 159 spot-never there did Naphtali or Rachel presume by word or action to express their union, or pronounce their spousal name. Thus passed the hours away. Twelve times had the moon renewed her light-and Rachel was the mother of a son. They nained him Elcazar the very name seemed to enhance his parents' love-though all sufficient to obtain it, was the, beauty of hiſ mind and person—for never were the presages of excellence more early indicated than in the young and happy Eleazar. At scarcely .four years old, 'he'oomprehended and retained whatever Sa- ·160 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. doc taught him. Never, but with reluctance, would the old man quit him. With heart o'erflowing with affection, he would snatch him from the arms of Rachel, to fondle him in his own would lead him to the field-raise him above his head to pluck with his lit. tle hands the tempting fruit-invent amusements and share in his delight. The venerable pontiff, whose white beard flowed upon his aged breast, would be seen sporting on the grass with the infant Eleazar-old Abdias would join them in their sports, and Rachel viewing them as she spun the thread to weave her father's garment, would drop her spindle to wipe away the tears of joy that mingled with her smiles.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. NAPATALI. 101 . The infant's strength increasing with his years, demanded of the good old Sadoc a care more cautious, and a severer eye--for he had. insisted on the esclusive charge of his instruction. He taught him first to read the holy law--and in his yet pure and docile mind instilled the precepts of the Eternal. Ile already knew the commandments delivered to Moses and could recite the miracles God enabled him to perform for the delivery of his people from the hands of the Egyptians: Such was his strength of memory and mind, that Sadoc' wondered aid his mother wept. On the return of Naphtali from the ·162 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. labours of the field, Eleazar sitting on the knce of his master, grandsire, and friend, would repeat to his astonished father, how Joseph, sold by his brethren, afterwards fed and forgave thein -while the old man listening and pronouncing, in a low voice, each word he uttered-fancied himself the pupil of his beautiful and affecting story—the distress of Jacob deprived of his beloved Benjamin, inoved him even to tears, and he would press his little Eleazar still closer to his bosom-while Naphtali, glancing at Rachel a look of sorrow, as often as it escaped the infant's mouth, evinced his interest in the name of brother! Nine years were already past-and ·ELEAZAR AND NAPATALI. 163 the sports of Eleazar claimed a wider range. Often and alone, with bow' and arrows, like his father animated and adroit, he would course adown the rapid torrent's length, the heron and the sea-caglc-nor' was it long ere he would cross the waters, and climb the mountain's top in search of the young swift-footed fawn.-Rachel and Sadoc would complain of these long and solitary excursions, while Naphtali, more indulgent, smiled--pleased to see his courage so far exceed his strength, his tacit indications cherished in his son his innate ardour for the chase, This ardour seemed daily to increase. No sooner was dinner ended, than Eleazar, armed with his bow, would disapl- ·164 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. pear till night-then, returning loaded with dates fresh plucked, or wood-pigeons--the fruit he would present to Rachel, or the birds to Sadoc-while both would wonder how his yet infant strength enabled him to climb the lofty palm-trees, and in the language of parental apprehension chide him for his long absence and incautious risk. But soon would Eleazar,whose tongue Nature had already taught persuasion, banish their fears, restore their confidence, and, for his future liberty-lie knew "that if he kissed them, they'd be kind. One day, Eleazar, contrary to his usual custom, departed at its earliest dawn--the hour of evening sacrifice had passed, and he had not returned.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 165 Rachel, in tears, had sent Naphtali to seek him in the environs of the stream; herself, having coursed its border, was sitting under the fig-tree, when suddenly she perceived him his counte. nance was pale-his cyes were filled with tears. “Oh, my child!” cried Rachel, “ what has happened !-tell me quickly.” " Ah, mother,” he replied, “my grief draws from me a secret, which I had sworn never to-reveal.-It is to you alone, that I confide it--you will keep it-I am sure you will--and you will help my friend."

·166 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. At these words, Rachel still more surprised, promised him all that he required-and gently wiping away his tears, kissed him, and listened to his story. “ I will now tell you," said Eleazar, why I have so often quitted you— when you have heard me, I am sure you will forgive me. “ Last month, I, one day, ventured to cross the stream-I descended the opposite bank-and saw, sitting under a rock, a poor quan cloathed in rags. Ilis hair hung over his face--his beard descended to lis half-naked breasthis face was pale--and-he seemed suf-

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI.
167
fering under pain and sickness. I was
mot frightened-on the contrary, I felt
pity for him. I had some fruit with
me, that I had brought from table,
and I went and offered it to him.
15
.
“My child, said he, “ I have no need
of what your goodness offers--but I
should like to know more of so kind a
friend-what is your name?-who are
thy happy parents?' • I am Eleazar,'
said I ; 'Sadoc, the old pontiff of Israel,
is my grandfather-my mother's name
is Rachel-my father's Naphtali--and
in pitying the poor; 'I do but obey
their precepts.'
“ I had scarcely 'said these words,
when the man came to mc-took me in

·168 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. his arms-raised me up-and pressed me to his bosom. He said nothing. but he sighed-and I felt his tears run down upon my cheeks. • Be not surprised,' said he, at this proof of my affection—I owe my life to Sadoc-and I could not see his grandson unmoved let it not offend you. Ile then put on a sarile-but I soon perceived his countenance was not accustomed to it. I took him by the hand. Come with me,' said I, 'I will conduct you to Sadoc I am by Sadoc always most caressed, when I bring the poor to receive his bounty.' No, zaid he (and he kissed me)—'I am banished from Shiloh for an involuntary crime!-I should be lost, if I appeared there and now, my child, you are sensible of my confidence ·LEAZAR AND NAPITALI. 169 my life is in your hands. Should you discover to any one that I am concealed in this mountain--that you have seenºme here-they would come and smatch me hence, and deliver me to the most excruciating torments." 1 trembled at his words--I promised to keep the secret -- and return to him again. “ The next day I went-he awaited me in the same place-and, encouraged by my punctuality confided in my promises, and conducted me to his retreat. It is a cave not far hence, hid. den among the rocks. I saiv nothing in it but some branches of the date tree.-The dates he fed on and of the branches he made Iris bed!

·170 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. " Here is my house,' said he, 'it * has nothing inviting in it; but if yout would sometimes visit me, you would make me happy. This morning, at the break of day, I sought, and fortunately took, these, two live wood-pigeons; and as birds are your delight, it shall be my business to obtain them for you. I am an unskilful fowler, but the desire of pleasing you will supply ali deficiences.' Then in a cage of rushes he presented me two wood-pigeons--these I brought home-and all you have received have been his gifts In my ausence his time was occupied in laying snares for doves, and seeking the finest fruits. Then, with his presents by his side, and sit. ting at the entrance of the cave, he to me.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 171 The joy would await my coming. these presents caused me, seemed reflected in his eyes he would embrace me place me nigh him-sometimes on his knees and then we talked together. ' He would, talk of you-my father-and my grandfather. He seemed interested in your happiness, and would make me repeat all that you had said. These conversations charmed me I loved to visit one so tender and so kind; and I would say to myself-perhaps I ain the only one in the world who can console him-I must see him often. “ This morning I went early to his çave, for he was yesterday unwell--and secretly in a vase I took, some milk, ·172 ELEAZAR AND NAPUTALI. hoping it would do him good—but since yesterday, bis illness is become more serious. I found him on his bed - he took the milk I brought-pressed my hand-and thanked me; but I say it was with difficulty that he strove to hide his sufferings. I knew not how to leave him and I should have been there still but the idea struck me that you might help him.--Oh, come, come with me it inay be you would save his life.” Thus spake Ereazar -- and Rachel, enraptured, kissed him.-"Amiable child," said she, “ how good and sensible is thy young heart-low lappy - thy inother!-yes, iny child, I will fol. low you—let us not lose an instant.".

·ELEAZAR AND NAPIITALI. 175 She immediately arose, and hastened home. - Naphtali had just returned from seeking his little son. Rachel. informed him of all that she had Ireard, and Naphtali determined to accompany them to the cave.• He took with him oil and wine-Rachel other provisions-and, conducted by Eleazar, they advanced toward the mountain. Eleazar hastened their steps. At the entrance of the cave, the child requested they woald stop-and entering alone, he said to the wretched recluse.“ Oh, my friend, forgive me --for I have revealed your secretbut it was in the hope of being use. -be rdt alarmed—I have ful to you--b I 2 ·174 ELEAZAR AND NAPITALI. brought to you my father and my 'mother.” What, nry child,” cried the dỹing man, half rising from his bed“Napkitali!_Rachel may I again embrace you! -Oh, heaven!-give me strength." 1 At these words, Naphtali, recognising the well known voice, flew into the cavern-fell and embraced his brother. It is he!-It is Eleazar!” Rachel saw again her former husband.-Mute—and to him forbiddenshe supported. Naphtali, whose head remained sunk upon his brother's bosom--while the child, astonished, views ed them with tearfưi eyes.

·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 175 The dying Eleazar, embracing with one arm his brother, extended the other to Rachel, apd looking at the child, he bid him not to weep. When to the turbulence of transport, a more grateful tranquillity had succeeded Eleazar with enfeebled voice, reclining on his brother, addressed him in these words: “Oh, Naphtali !--my time is short! -let me avail myself of these the last moments in which I may still call you brother-disturbe not the sacred joy I feel in speaking to you onct more-be assured my. Naphtali, your Eleazar dies much happier than he has lived ! 13 ·176 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. “ On the day of my marriage, I 'saw you, at the fig-tree, return to Rachel the veil you carried in your bosom. That word said all I did -vhat you would have done! The law ordained that you should become the husband of my-widow, and I left my garn.ents on the border of the stream, tha: my death might be believed saw the possibility of your happiness and it enabled me to live, " I. set out-undetermined in my course--quitted Çanaan-and reached the land of Emath. To forget Rachel was my hope-but I found it vain. To forget Rachel and Naphtali was impossible to Eleazar--and I found myself in the world, abandoned and ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 177 alone-like a grape upon the branch, forgotten in the gathering! After nine years of suffering, and suffering in vain, whicli gave me nei. ther death, nor the oblivion which I sought, I returned again to Shiloh--in these mountains I concealed myself by day, and at night I strayed asound your dwelling, dreading to be perceived-but burning with desire to see you, “At length, one evening, sitting be- • hind a rock just oposite the wild-figtree, I saw you, Naphtali, leading Rachel by the hand. Oh, Naphtali!- how can I describe the vehemence of my desire to run and embrace you?- ·178 ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. I saw ye kueel at the tomb--I saw your tears fall, when ye pronounced the name of Eleazar! Oh, Naphtali! Oh, my Rachel !--that single mnoment repayed me for nine years of sorrow._ They love ne still,' I cried, - dare I pronounce me wretched.' 6. From that moment I determined here to fix my residence. I sought and favod this grot. I eat of the fruits of the date-tree and I drank of the strcam. I saw you every evening. I reproached myself. with your tears-- yet, reproaching.. I enjoyed them-I wished you comforted—but should have been less pleased to have seen you so. · Heayen soon sent a still greater ·ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI. 179 blessing in the meeting of your child, 1.gained him by my gifts, my atten-, tions and my friendship. How many are the happy hours I owe to him! How great the transports of my soul, when, holding hinh on my knees, in silent contemplation, I have said to myself— flere is the child of Naphtali and Rachel-in him live united, my wife and brother! I pressed him to my bosom-and imagined I embraced you both—he returned my embraces and I fancied myself in your arms! . “ This happiness, is past-like the fleet hours of a morning S0h, Napbtali!-I am dying ! But it is the will of heaven !-and let its will be done! -Oh, that I might once more, Ambrace

·180
ELEAZAR AND NAPHTALI.
my good and virtuous father!-Tell
whim....tell him....but, no-his wounds
are healed-let them not bleed afresh
-let him not mourn anew, the sou he
has so long deplored !-Come nearer,
Naphtali–Rachel-and
you my
Eleazar
—my son--my latest friend!-give me
your hands-join them—that, united,
may press
them to
my heart.-Alas!
-it beats no longer but it loves you
si:!1!
-Adieu !-Adieu !-be comforted
-be happy-and let me live in your
remembrance!”
I
FINIS.
Pruted by'jo ice Gold, 103, Slive-lane, London.

·This Day is published, in. Two Volumes, 12mo. price.). HAWTHORN COTTAGE; 108. 6d. OR, TIIE TWO CUPIDS, A TALE, As it appeared in the European, Magazine, but corrected und mproved, with considerable and appropriate Additions, By J. JONES. Sic teneros animos kliena opprobria sæpe Absterrent vitus- Hon, Lib. 1, Sat, 1v, Printed for JAMES ASPERNE, No. 32, Cornhill, and may be had of all the Booksellers in the United Kingdom. “ 'The main design of this Novel, as we learn from the In. troduction is, to display the horrible effects of female seduction ; and Mr. Jones is bighly praise-worthy for the sentiments which he expresses, and for the indignation which he blanitests, against the deliberate seducers of female innocence." “ The story is drawn up with abilis, the characters aro natural; and the incidents, though somewhat extraordinary, not ill chosen." "The moral is also good-vice is punished and virtue rewarded. Anli.jucobin Review, Jan. 8. It scerns almostunecessary to say more in favour of theso volunes, yet we thuk justice elemands that we should add, that they consist of a succession of mteresting and affecting events, connected with a variety of contrasted characters, .cach of the former gradually leading tu the Jisgrace and punishment of vice, and the revard of virtue, We therefore recomend them to the public as a valuable litile work, aud woriny of being considered by all laulics, in wluch there are juvenile rcaders, as a desideratum supplied." London Review, Jan. 8. "The perusal of these Volumnestias afforded us great cntertainpent. The tale is pleasing, and related m good language. It combines sound pruftiples with mterest of natrative, and is one of those tew novels which may be reavith safety.'' Critical Reti (Feb. 1815.

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