ABNER, JOAD, JOSABET, ZACHARIAH, SALOMITH,
TWO LEVITES, THE CHOIR.

JOAD.
Must I believe my eyes,
Dear Abner? By what way have you been here
Conducted, through a camp besieging us?
'Twas said that Ahab's sacrilegious daughter
Had loaded with vile chains your generous hands.


ABNER.
Yes, sire, she feared my fortitude and zeal.
Confining me's the least part of her rage;
In horrid dungeon by her orders buried,
I was expecting that the temple burnt
To ashes, and not satiated yet,
With many floods of slaughter, she would come,
And rid me of a troublesome life, cut short
The days which would a thousand times have swelled
The grief of being survivor of my kings.


JOAD.
What miracle has brought about your pardon?


ABNER.
God only knows what passes in her heart.
She sent for me, and with distracted air
Said, "see those soldiers quite surround that temple,
A vengeful fire's about to make it ashes;
Thy God 'gainst mine can not defend Himself.
Howe'er His priests—but they must make quick haste,
On two conditions may redeem their lives—
That in my power Eliacin be given,
With treasures which I know are known to them,
Amassed by David, formerly your king,
Intrusted to the high-priest's secret care.
Go tell them at that price that they may live."


JOAD.
What counsel, Abner, think you we should follow?


ABNER.
If, in effect, 'tis true that all the gold
Of David's secret treasure you preserve,
And from the hands of that rapacious queen
You may thereby save all that's rich and rare,
Why, yield it up. Would you that foul assassins
Come break the altar, burn the cherubim,
And laying on our ark a violent hand,
With your own blood pollute the sanctuary?


JOAD.
Would it become us, Abner, from kind hearts,
To give to torture an unfortunate child,
Whom God Himself confided to my care;
And at his life's expense redeem our own?


ABNER.
Alas! God sees my heart. O that our God
Would make the queen forget an innocent child,
And that the blood of Abner would content
Her cruelty, and that my death would calm
The heavens that torture her! But what avails
Your useless tenderness? If you all perish,
Is death the less to him? And does our God
Bid you to dare impossibilities?
Submitting to a heartless tyrant's law,
Moses, left by his mother at the Nile,
Was seen almost at birth condemned to fall:
But God, preserving him beyond all hope,
Made e'en the tyrant tend, his infancy.
Who knows God's will towards our Eliacin?
And, if preparing him like destiny,
He has not, the fierce murderess of our kings,
Already made susceptible of pity?
At least, short time ago, I saw his aspect
Move her (which Josabet observed as well),
I saw the tempest of her fury fall.

(To Josabet.),
Princess! can you be silent in this peril?
What, for a boy, who is a stranger to you,
Will you allow that Joad shall fruitlessly
Leave you, his son, and people to be slaughtered?
And that the fire devour the very place
Upon the earth where God would be adored?
Why, were that tender boy a precious relic
Of your ancestral kings, could you do more?


JOSABET (aside, to Joad).
O wherefore do you not speak out, you see
His tenderness for Israel's kings?


JOAD.
Princess 'tis not yet time.


ABNER.
The time's more precious, sire, than you suppose.
Whilst hesitating here to answer me,
Mathan, beside the queen, indignant flaming,
Demands the signal, panting for the carnage.
Must I entreat you at your sacred feet,
By the place saintly, closed to all but you,
Dread place, where dwells the majesty of God?
However hard the task on you imposed,
We must but think of warding off the blow.
O give me only time to breathe—to-morrow,
This very night, I will arrange the means
To save the temple and avenge its wrongs.
But ah! I see my tears and vain discourse
Are arguments too frail to change your mind:
Your austere virtue will not be subdued.
Well! bring me then my armour, and a sword,
That at the portals of the temple, where
The foe awaits me, Abner, at the least,
May die in combat


JOAD.
I yield. You give advice which I embrace:
Let us avert so many threatening ills.
'Tis true there is a treasure left by David;
To my fidelity the charge was given:
It was the melancholy Jews' last hope,
Which from the light my vigilance concealed:
But since we must expose it to our queen,
I'm going to please her. Open wide our gates!
Let her, accompanied by her bravest chiefs,
Advance, but from our sacred altars, let
Her hold at distance the unreasoning fury
Of herds of strangers, and protect me from
The horror of the pillage of the temple.
Would a few priests and children rouse suspicion?
With her arrange the number of her suite.
As to that child, so feared, so terrible—
Abner, I know the justness of your heart—
I will explain his birth before you both:
You'll hear if we should place him in her power,
And you shall judge 'twixt him and Athaliah.


ABNER.
Ah! now, I take him under my protection.
Fear nothing, I return to her who sent me.