Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/421

Rh JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.

I.

our Country, our God—Oh, my Sire!

Demand that thy Daughter expire;

Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow—

Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

II.

And the voice of my mourning is o'er,

And the mountains behold me no more:

If the hand that I love lay me low,

There cannot be pain in the blow!

III.

And of this, oh, my Father! be sure—

That the blood of thy child is as pure

As the blessing I beg ere it flow,

And the last thought that soothes me below.

IV.

Though the virgins of Salem lament,

Be the judge and the hero unbent!

I have won the great battle for thee,

And my Father and Country are free!