Heptateuch (the first seven books of the Bible in verse) 7.50–7.674

He possessed the hill country, because he could not subdue the curving valley, which had been promised to strong Caleb. These things done, the band of Joseph, with Judah as avenger, hastens to cut down Bethel with warlike iron. Then the routed band of the enemy conceives returning anger and, inflamed by its wounds, comes out more warlike, and now strips the victor of the honour he had won; yet the Amorite, made subject, is ordered to pay tribute and is held in check, fined a great part of his lands. For where level Idumea of the fruitful earth lies, and where the rough rocks of overhanging Akrabbim swell, the victor holds all, and servitude presses the subject. Meanwhile the Lord shakes his gathered anger and orders his servant to come down from the heavenly realms, to declare, mindful, the eternal words of the Lord. He shines out in flight, coming from Gilgal to Weeping, coming to Bethel, where the Jewish youth had taken sweet leisure when the wars were lulled, having worshipped gentile gods and long since offered profane incense, guilty, to carved stones. So he approaches them with these words and terrifies them in their fear: “Forgetful of the command and of your own affairs, where, Judea, are you rushing? What divinities do you now fashion? What superstition is this, to prefer earth to heaven and to attend clay gods with insane worship?

Where has God gone, profane one, who, when you groaned in hardships among the nations of the Nile under the tyrant Pharaoh, brought you through the divided sea and the torrid rocks of the wilderness and made such nations yield to you, that now, victorious and finished with all your wars, you should melt away and dedicate other rites and sacred things than those the rule of the starry law had given you? See, you hold the land that was sworn to the sacred prophets and is given to the chosen people through the ages. The covenants of my word are no longer known, since, mingled with gentile peoples and evil counsellors, you entreat dumb gods, the offspring of craftsmen. Rather it would have befitted your life to crush them all and turn away from false cults. But because no trust has been given to my commands, I will give the realm to the conquered; I will send you under the yoke again, so that you may be like the gods you believe exist.” After Judea received these commands of God, it turns to groaning and, beating its sad breast, asks pardon with abundant tears; nor was there any delay to their prayers, and mercy follows them as they seek God through his holy temples, gladly releasing the sorrowful. So the scattered people gladly run back to their known homes and gave the place a name of weeping. … Again their hearts waver; they return to their accustomed crimes and worship the Baals; the Lord being wronged by such things, they suffer the penalties deserved for their lying divinities.

They are made subject to masters whom they had conquered — alas, cruel grief! — nor does conscious valour answer the wretched anywhere. Soon the anger of God is softened and chiefs are raised up, who snatched the people from headlong peril. These too despised, the accustomed madness rises again; nor do they share rites only: they intermarry, dedicate unshorn groves and restore altars. Yet their deeds do not go unpunished: they are pressed into slavery and tremble before King Cushan-rishathaim, who then gave laws where the island between the twin rivers parts the Persians from the Assyrian border, holding them subject for eight returning years. At last Judea groaned at its deserved guilt and prostrate entreats the Lord, who, softened, in his kindly divinity restored to the fearful the comforts of life; for a saviour is sent and comes and brings salvation to the people and wipes sad cares from their breasts, a warrior, son of Kenaz, the hero Othniel, strong with his brother Caleb, but younger in age. The Spirit of the Lord raised him, famed for the gift of courage, and set him on high in a lofty seat. He, strong and faithful to God, took away the dangers from the defeated and forced the fearful king to serve. In such things Judea prevailed for many years and was exposed to no deceit.

But after the chief, his course of life run, lay down, the people gladly restore the old rites; times change, and war and slavery press upon them; the peoples whom King Eglon led run together, the Ammonites and the Moabites and the strong Amalekites, and rout the Hebrew line with a hail of iron, and the victors tear away the very sceptres of the land. Those who seek to escape death are handed over to the chief, and suffered masters for ten and eight harvests. Bent by these evils, the nation shudders at what it had done and calls on God, who alone forgives crimes. At once Ehud is chosen to take the sceptre; he, strong with the strength of the right hand in both hands, felt his left in no way weaker under any weight. When he was bringing his people’s tribute to the victor, secretly girded under his garment with a two-edged sword, and was admitted, he then worships the king, relying on his weakness; for his limbs, emptied of muscle, tottered so much that he could fall at a slight push. He declares that he has something he wishes to say and asks the thronging crowd of companions to withdraw. It is granted, and the barbarian leader, sitting in the middle of the hall, rises and, drawing near, joins himself with his whole body; and after the column of trusted men had gone far off, he snatches from his thigh the sword he hid under his garment and buried it whole, up to the hilt, in the king’s belly.

Then he rushes out and leaves the iron in the wound, shutting the chief’s doors and proud doorposts. But the servants wonder that their lord, used to coming out to his duties, remains alone in his silent chamber, perhaps relieving the burden of his belly in secret, while he avoids the eyes of the company. And now Ehud, mindful of the deed, rouses his allies to war and mingles the terrible sounds of the trumpet; moving the standards quickly, he closes the banks of the Jordan, lest anyone be able to cross by the shallow streams. And when he had routed ten thousand with hard iron, he restored their lost name and honour to his allies. Then wars are silent, battles stir nothing, and weapons rested for twice four times ten years. After this Shamgar, proud with like valour, ruled the Jewish peoples and left them famous. But while their joys are fed on secure prosperity, the grim nation spurns God, and with empty prayer consecrates altars to the wretched divinities of those it had conquered. So they are chastised with penalties and suffer punishments worthy of their crime. Jabin, the royal hero, having gathered the youth of Hazor in a Canaanite band, fights with Sisera as leader and prince of his army and fills his iron ranks with nine hundred chariots.

And though he draws immense squadrons in a faithful column, the terror he sought does more: for, with flying axle, the hoof shakes the crumbling plain with four-footed sound. The men of Jerusalem are defeated everywhere as the Canaanite rages, and they spend twice ten Decembers in every sorrow. At that very time Deborah reigns as prophetess, whose husband was Lappidoth, giving laws to the peoples as she leaned on the trunk of a palm. She calls the chief Barak from the city of Kedesh and, taught by God’s warnings, orders twice five thousand to stand against Sisera’s companies. He fears and asks the prophetess as his ally in the war, not knowing that the palm of the great undertaking would be denied him if he called with him to the camp one to whom the first glory belonged; but the woman, alone of her sex, takes up new duties and moves the chosen cohorts through the barbarians’ fields to the river Kishon, which, coming with headlong flood, rolls rocks and, swelling, delights to overcome its banks. And now the phalanxes had come within a spear’s throw, when the Lord, in whom is the power by which he changes the stars and the lands tremble, by which the lightning burns in the clouds, by which he moves the uncertain sea with its ebbing force, sent terror and put Sisera to flight; he, headlong in his ruin, abandons his chariots and, taking every byway, left the youth to fall in the middle of the contest.

And, driven by thirst — for he had fled the enemy on foot — he asks Jael for a drink; soon, covered with a skin, he hastens to save his life by a woman’s gift; but Jael, desiring praise, scorns the coward and hastily bursts the hollow temples of the man with a stake. He, seized by cold death, his brain flowing out, breathes out his thin life, his head transfixed. Then the chiefs sing psalms to the Thunderer in like words: “Whoever is famous in a kingdom, you who govern great cities, you who as satraps hold sceptres second to the king, bow down and worship God; give worthy songs to the everlasting one; for the Lord does not wish to compel you otherwise, he who shakes the lands and the rocks, who stirs the sea with his blast and furrows the black clouds with thunder, who lifts the lowly on high and changes great things. Sing, sweet-sounding choirs; and let hills and grove respond, and the sky renew praises with ringing, and at once let the echoes agree with your voice. The Lord has looked again on those he had left, and to the sorely broken has restored their rule and taken them back from the midst of the enemy.” So there is a wondrous rest for four times ten years. And while the people enjoys good things, its guilt returning again, what had been condemned pleases; for they gladly set up idols and forsake the name and divinity of God.

Whom the Lord, wronged, ruined for seven years and ordered, in their fear, to serve the king of Midian. They trust themselves to no field, nor face the enemy breast to breast, but rejoice only to hide behind walls; they strengthen camps and lofty defences in fear, and, hidden in hollow caves, even so they grow pale. Then all their cattle begin to be seized, all their estates burned, and nothing but punishment left within their enclosures. So, destitute and fearing hunger and the sword together, they returned to the Lord God, who is moved by the suppliant crowd and sends a prophet bearing his holy commands, that at last, mindful of the past and of the recent war, they should look back and worship the Lord, who with favouring power called back his beloved people from the city of Egypt, lest again, while they burn altars with forbidden flames, they always incur the anger of a divinity not easily appeased. Then the messenger of God sat under a pleasant oak and urges Gideon, while he is threshing grain, with these words: “Come now, no more delay! The Lord has ordered you to take the sceptre, with which you may rescue the people from harm.” He argues with biting words on every side that the Lord, hostile, is weighing out ruin all too sad, and moreover that the people, worn out, with no soldiers now, and he himself, not strong enough, could not press on with war.

He is urged to serve God, who with lofty strength terrifies manifold armies by his unconquered power. He assents to the commands and invites the holy one to a meal; a kid is chosen, fed only on milk, softer than all, which strayed not knowing grass; soon unleavened loaves made of snowy flour are set out; these, when the young man had been told to pour them out on a nearby rock, the holy one himself, stretching out his hand, touched with the tip of his staff and left the man in the middle of his speech. So when Gideon perceived and turned over in his pious mind that the Lord’s minister had flown before his eyes, at once he raises an altar consecrated to the Lord and gave the place a name and called it Peace. Warned by visions in the night, he overthrows the gentile temples and tears up the groves from the deep root. And lest his profane father should raise contrary quarrels, he silently overturns the ill-founded shrines by night, setting a young bullock at the overturned temples. After this was discovered and the sudden ruin inflamed their minds, the author of the deed is sought through the town, and they are told that Gideon laid the groves low. Joash is asked to hand over his son for the crime; refusing, he reminds them that the gods are their own avengers and ought to protect what is theirs, if they exist and live.

Here the Spirit of the Lord strengthens Gideon for battle, and now the clarions sound; the horn trumpet gives the signal. The Lord is asked that on the white fleece of wool heavenly dew should flow in the night; without delay it was soaked and, wrung out, filled a basin; then he set another out again, and the dry wool did not feel the frosty moisture, though the ground was wet. Another thing is added: that he should order twice ten thousand and two thousand of the fearful people to return, and set the number of fighters at ten thousand. Warned, he reduced this too, lest the gathered crowd, trusting in its own strength, should not see the Lord’s arms. As the chief of the young men leads the line to the river, he bids them lap the flowing water in the manner of dogs, so that he might have companions of glad courage. Three hundred men were approved; for the rest of the crowd, languid, did not take the drink as shown, from the palm, to return to their homes, as though they knew nothing of battle. Trusting in this company he makes war on so many thousands that men cannot count them who, taught by skill, are used to reckon sums on outstretched fingers: on this side lines of cavalry with mingled companies of foot, on that side innumerable camels in a grim mass.

But Gideon, hastening with his servant Purah following, makes for the enemy camp and, covered by dark night, goes down, and, surveying the site and their minds and spirits, heard a man telling a companion his dreams, which he had noted with waking sense in his troubled sleep. For he seemed to see a loaf rolling, such as barley makes whenever wheat is denied, and winding in various ways through the camp, through the column, until it came through the middle of the rampart’s defences and with its weight broke right into the king’s seat. The men declared these portents an augury of a man’s blood, and say that the end of Midian has come. Then, after the young man had worshipped the Lord and gone away, more exalted, he begins to explain to his men the dream he had learned, and soon leads his band in three columns. He puts horn trumpets as weapons and torches in their hands and bids them take him as their example in the toil, and, giving thanks to God, to begin the battle, lest the Lord be absent, under whose lead they conquer. Now the first hour of the night had changed the watches, when they swiftly rush on the gates and tear away the closed bars and fill the trumpets with windy blasts; then they whirl the jars, which, shaken with great weight, burst apart; they rouse the glades and, with ringing bronze, give forth sounds and raise broken cries to the stars.

Columns of flame held out in their left hands flash and conquer the night, shining with much light. At this roar their spirits are shaken, all minds terrified; where a gate is open they rush out and leave the terrified camp. Soon all Judea gathers and follows the scattered enemy; part seize the watering springs and roaring rivers, so that the enemy crowd, scattered in fear, dry in their thirsting veins, rushing on, may run into the guards’ weapons. Nor did such stratagems fail; for in a headlong column come the chiefs of Midian, Oreb and Zeeb, implacable, and meet the sword instead of the stream. And though envy of his valour tormented those who had been far off and lacked a share in the common praise, yet Gideon soothed them with eloquent and humble speech, because they held the trophies of the two leaders. He is scorned for the remaining part of the unfinished contest, and the enemy kings are said to be still alive; yet he postpones the punishment and withdraws with threats. Then he completes the work begun and presses on the fleeing. He found the Sabaeans encamped at Karkor; for they massed their column with four times ten thousand after the slaughter in which a hundred thousand had fallen by the sword and twice ten thousand more: this number was renewing the war. But the whole nation, entangled in its deserts, fell.

The leader Zebah, after such deaths of his men, and Zalmunna flee; for the mind, overcome by danger, faltered, coming to the mockery of the last extremity. For Gideon leads the captives together from place to place and shows them to the men who earlier, with harsh murmur, had mocked him with foolish laughter when he asked for help. Without delay the guilty men’s limbs are dragged through thorns, and the unshorn bushes are bedewed with men’s blood. Moreover, lest any traces of so great a crime should remain, the city, overthrown by the sword, falls, and its threatening towers, torn up from the foundations, drew down a long ruin. Afterwards he orders the kings to be shown in public, whom on every side the crowd of the marvelling people encloses; then he orders them to say whom and how many men, in their pride, they had laid low in the slaughter in which Judea was perishing. They said they had been such that their noble beauty marked them as the sons of kings. He thinks of his brothers in his brotherly breast, picturing the bearing of the slain as if it were before him. Then, moved, he speaks thus: “I call you to witness, holy one, Almighty, and the lofty deeds of your right hand, that you give memorable merit even to a woman’s praise.” After him comes Tola, who was judge for twice ten years and three, troubled by no plague of war. Then Jair the Gileadite flourishes and, in peace, equally powerful …

very rich, a father rejoicing in thrice ten children, noble, he holds the kingdom twice eleven years. After his death new idols spring up quickly; for besides the accustomed altars of the demon Astarte and the gods of Assyria, Sidon and Moab, Judea prepared for itself rites unknown before. For these, pressed by Ammon in hard wars, it dragged out twice nine winters, worn down by dangers. At last it remembers on high and at last considers that God must rather be appeased, who by his highest power could calm even the long guilt of the people. And they renew God’s holy laws; for at once they throw down the altars and all the gods and break the stone idols, mindful of the Thunderer who abides through the ages. Meanwhile the order turns in its distinct courses, and the people choose a leader who with firm soldiers could govern the cities in war or in peace. A certain Jephthah was approved, a Gileadite by birth, whose nobility drew a stain from his mother, who lived prostituted to men everywhere in a brothel. His brothers drove him from the house, because, a tarnished heir without a known father, he belonged to his mother’s side. Fearing them, he fled, and among the dark hills found companions in crime and lives by plunder.

But on the other side the Ammonite was waging war, pressing the Jebusite people of Jerusalem; for Judea lacked a leader and, weakened, gave easy triumphs. Young men are sent to meet Jephthah, famous in war, and call him to battle with coaxing persuasion. At first he refused help; soon he joins the columns and, holding command, drives back the Ammonite enemy. But first, ready to end the war by negotiation, he gave instructions to envoys, who then return and report that nothing was done and that the enemy presses on. So when the hope of the desired peace was laid aside, Jephthah rushes to the sword and, having prayed to the Lord, vows great vows that would cause the parent great grief: that whoever first came to meet him on his return should become a fitting victim for the everlasting Thunderer. These things done, he goes forth exulting and with chosen soldiers moves the standards and routs the enemy, and, finishing them with bloody slaughter, quickly overthrows twice ten cities. But while he returns, himself the messenger of his glory, and victory follows in a long procession, his daughter, the only child to share her father’s labours, runs to meet him and sings sweetly with a gathered crowd and rises on tiptoe for his kisses. When her father saw her, he tears the garments girded on him and moves his eyes, seeing the evil, to weeping.

“Alas, victory deadly to my fate! This vow was rather my enemy! Where are you running, daughter, where are you rushing? This is the last time I speak to you. For while, moving the standards, I asked the Lord for protection, you, made a victim to God, are set before the holy altars.” But the virgin, unconcerned for herself and her blessed death, exults the more sweetly and plays amid the danger. Moreover she begs that his resolve stand firm and that her father not doubt or hesitate, and asks for a little time in which she may lament her youth with tears. It is granted, and two months are given her as she rejoices. So the appointed day came, and her father, as priest, sent the virgin’s spirit to the Lord in heaven. Meanwhile the people’s rage runs to arms, and fury drives kindred ranks against each other, and devouring envy, while it carps at the man’s pious deeds, destroys itself: for thirty-two thousand fall by the sword of your peoples, Ephraim, and Jephthah, victor in the war, earned triumphs in civil strife as well. Judea, bereft of its former leader, takes another. Ibzan, once an Israelite of Bethlehem, afterwards called leader, was chosen and took the reins of his fatherland as governor, the father of many: for he had forty sons from lawful marriage beds, so great a hope of grandsons, and kept thirty brides for them at one time.

Having completed seven years as he judges as ruler, he died and, covered by a tomb, left the things of the world. Elon of Zebulun follows and holds the sceptre, who as ruler left the government after two lustres. Quickly the chief Abdon the Pirathonite is set after him, father of thirty daughters; for his male offspring was forty, since the father was much richer by a substitute mother and a number of bastards. He holds the judgment of the people for twice four years. And while the worship of God alone flourished, lasting peace was kept for the glad people; for idols, worshipped again by men, stirred up bloody war; for the Lord subjected all to the arms of warriors and made them pay penalties for eight lustres. In those times the young man Manoah flourished, not yet a father; for, joined to a barren wife, he longed in his prayers to rejoice in the name of children. To his wife the Lord, gliding down from above the sky, stood near, promising the gift of an unaccustomed birth, commanding that the son should not taste wine or strong drink, nor let unclean things be bitten with open mouth, because she would be happier than all mothers and would make up in one son the loss of number. “For he will be of noble courage, and no one will be allowed to violate his unconquered head or harm it with iron,

chosen of the Lord from the fruitful womb of a mother, so that he may save the people and, beating back war, fiercely turn losses against the enemy’s companies.” She came and told her husband; for she said that the man’s face was fiery and that she had seen the glory of shining God, and that, when she asked God’s name, the Thunderer was silent. “He who is born of you will be a Nazirite,” she says. Manoah joins his wife in vows, that the holy one who had been sent might repeat his pious words and kindle a new light by which they might know what befits the boy, who is loved before he is born. At once he is sent down from heaven and, revealing new things, hastens and, seeing the wife lying on the grass with her husband away, at once stands close by. She rises and quickly tells her husband what she had seen. He follows, trembling, and rejoicing to see the holy one, and sees a face shining with outstanding light. He approaches and asks the man whether he speaks truly and bids him set out what he wishes done. To them, with serene face, the angel declares that the same rules hold for all, and that the child to be born must not put unclean things to his mouth, nor drink wine or strong drink, nor take any drinks by which the mind could be driven from its senses. Exulting, the young man offers the holy one a kid to eat, but is soon told rather to offer the accustomed gifts to the Thunderer, which he might wish to be accepted for the gift of life.

Moreover they seek to learn the Lord’s name, which no one can search out, for it is wonderful. Then the young man brings the offerings he was bidden, setting the goat’s offspring among the holy gifts. But soon the flame, rising toward the bright stars, beat with its tip on the sky and reached heaven, and by it the holy one, conspicuous, climbed the clouds. Without delay the womb swells with the promised child, and the longed-for offspring is given, whom by a sure name the parents called Samson; this pleased them both. And while the boy, tottering, plants his first steps, he walks with God beside him; for the Spirit was his guide, at whom the earth trembles, whom the stars obey. Relying on him he moved through the camps of Dan and Eshtaol. Then, his body now grown to youth, he came to Timnah, where he is captivated by the fairness of a conspicuous girl. He tells his parents; he asks for her as wife. They demur and say it is not lawful, because the woman was not born of their tribes. He presses the more sharply, affirming and swearing that she pleased him. She is sought and joined to the one who longed for her. And while he walks through green vines with glad shoots and turns his silent gaze on each thing, see, a lion holds sway in the wilds of the Jawbone:

rousing itself with horrible roar and the lash of its tail and shaking its muscles, it comes to meet him with open mouth. He takes it on — for it was no labour — and with impetuous right hand tears it apart and scatters it, its limbs rent asunder. Endowed with the gift of silent courage, he hides the deed and rejoices, content with his own mind as witness. After some days he returns and looks for the prey: here indeed — a horrible portent and wonderful to tell — he sees honey in the middle of the lion’s jaws mixed with yellow comb, which he at once takes away, and, having tested it by taste, more confidently offers it to his excellent kin. And now he had begun to be feared by many for his outstanding renown for valour. So he goes out with thrice ten men accompanying him, men of outstanding valour; then a riddle is set to all, and he jests, laying a forfeit on the ignorant, that they must at once produce garments woven of snowy thread if they could not utter the truth in speech. Beginning, he wraps his words in a varied figure: “From the eater of man came forth common food, and from the body of the strong flowed something sweeter than the comb.” When no one brought it forth with truthful mouth, and after seven days the forfeit would fall on the friends, they, confused, built a plot and, hating their companion, came to their fellow citizen, whom we said before had pleased the man as a bride, and ask her with threats

to find out the secret by tricking Samson; and if she does not do it, they declare that flames will avenge it. Terrified, she softens the man’s hard heart with womanly weeping; for he keeps it shut, reminding her: why does she, a chatterer, ask what was not told to his father and his mother? But what does a woman’s weeping not strive to compel? He is overcome and lays bare the secrets of his silent mind, and she tells the men. On the seventh day the setting world grew pale with doubtful light; the companions answer: “What is sweeter than honey, or what can be stronger than a lion shaking his mane?” The hero at once recognizes his wife’s treachery and says: “O young men, this answer is not yours: for unless the woman had coaxed me with soothing persuasion, the riddle with its tangled sense would not have been known.” Then the Spirit of God sends the young man against the enemy; exulting, he cuts down thirty and, victorious, holds all that the fallen had, and gives his companions the garments he had promised. And gradually the seeds of courage grow in the man; for his father-in-law, led by the whim of an unsteady mind, refuses the young man his wife and himself gives her to a stranger, lest afterwards, inflamed and fierce, he should perhaps ask that she be restored, and promises his younger daughter, if he wishes. “O mighty avenger!” he exclaims, and threatens monstrously from grim eyes, and, about to take long and great vengeance for such daring, at once found a means of destruction by which to rage:

he eagerly catches three hundred foxes and, tying their tails together and joining them two by two in order, sends them out, driving them everywhere through the olive groves and vineyards of the pleasant hill, and puts burning torches in their tails. Scarcely let go, they made for the fertile fields; wherever they hasten they drag wide fires behind them. At once the devouring fire, increased by the blasts of the winds, rolls on; the flames prevail and spread as they are drawn along. Nor was the trick hidden. The crowd of farmers flocks together, stricken by such heavy evils, and the young men throw his wife and her father into the flames and burned the roofs of their houses. So the penalty was their burial mound, the flame their tomb. Heavy vengeance spurs him on, for he threatens much, and deals ruin with vast slaughter to the enemy and his own. Meanwhile three thousand young men of the tribe of Judah grow hot with hatred, to kill Samson with so great a force and seek one man with so many thousand swords. But the young man soon takes up arms and begs his allies, as they press on, to let the war be waged for the glory. As he wished, the pledge was given; then they bring out bonds of tow, with which they bind his arms in nine knots; he is driven from the rock. He comes to the edge of the Jawbone, and the gathered crowd rejoiced to see him captured.

And while greedily they stretch out their hands and threaten him with horrible roar, he pulls his hands apart and breaks the linen bonds; then — for what does anger not supply? — straining, he grasps the curved jawbone of a slow ass, and with it (a wondrous thing) strikes and kills a thousand men. And when thirst, his lungs dry, warned the young man to hope for the help of God, who creates all things without seed, for whom, when he wills, the parched thing is a spring, who at his command waters dry ground or dries up rivers, who among vast crags and the hot wilderness released watering rivers from hard rocks: without delay a crack opening in the light bone of the jaw flows, and the stream trembles in its escaping course. The young man is filled with drink from a heavenly flood. He does wonders and sees great things and deserves praise, under whose command Judea, strong, shone forth for twice ten years, trusting in this leader and soldier. Then he went off and came to Gaza, where a cheap woman, wounded, sold her nights to hot young men. He went to her, who was soon the first cause of danger. See, the band of Gaza flies and secures the hard gates with a bar and sets iron chains under them, keeping him shut in, as it longs to mock its captive. At about midnight Samson’s dreams leave him;

roused, he rages monstrously; then, beating at the threshold, he tears the two doorposts from their grating hinge and, getting under the load, quickly carries them up the steep ridges of the mountain far opposite. And, stronger than danger, the warrior is then captured by love of Delilah. All the men whom envy drove came to her, to overcome the unconquered man, that, joined to him in bed, she might soothe him, softened by sweet allurements, and soon learn what nourishment renews his strength, what source feeds such great power: whether he is so strong by nature or by art. If she tells them, they affirm that she will be rewarded. The young man, entreated, says craftily: “If I am bound with seven sinews that are still moist, I will lose all strength and become weaker than all.” The woman, deceiving the deceiver, instructs her people. The young man is bound with the hard strength of sinews, which he broke with a slight pull like soft fleeces. Asked again, he says that new ropes are to be feared, never used, which would never be loosed. She binds the man when, now wearied with labour, his drooping breast breathed out thin sleep. As soon as he felt the knots, he lashes the air and laughed at them as at nets a spider spins. Twice deceived in different ways, yet daring to ask, she tries Samson again with a veiled request.

He answered things quite different and untrue to her asking: “Loosen my hair and, twisting it again, weave it carefully, plaiting no more than one ell; so my strength will perish, robbed of its vigour.” She does what had been said and, anxiously turning it, weaves it with hanging hand, and, fastening it with stakes, binds it, and Delilah hands the captive over to her allies; leaping up, he throws back the stakes and unties his hair. Perjured so often and so often repulsed, she fears nothing; again she adjures him with tears made ready, in her madness, and called in every art to make him yield. His softened mind can no longer bear her feigned griefs and deceit, but revealed to his beloved what was dire for himself: “I am, believe me, a Nazirite of the everlasting Lord, and my strength is in my hair, and no blade cuts my locks with iron edge; if anyone, driving it home, makes my head bald with bared crown, that will be the sure end of my unbought strength.” With these words her faith was manifest; soon, the reward received, the woman cherishes Samson in her lap; a barber hired for a fee takes away all his strength and hair. Samson is shaken from the couch; changed, yet the same, he is seized, and God departs with his strength. At once he is bereft of both his eyes; for, his eyeballs dug out, they left empty hollows, and he mourns, his legs bound with a hard fetter;