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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538027" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rizpah</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he delivered them into the hands of the Gibeonites, and they<br>hanged them in the hill before the Lord; and they fell all seven<br>together, and were put to death in the days of the harvest, in the<br>first days, in the beginning of barley-harvest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for<br>her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until the water<br>dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the<br>air to rest upon them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">2 SAMUEL, xxi. 10.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Hear what the desolate Rizpah said,<br>As on Gibeah's rocks she watched the dead.<br>The sons of Michal before her lay,<br>And her own fair children, dearer than they:<br>By a death of shame they all had died,<br>And were stretched on the bare rock, side by side.<br>And Rizpah, once the loveliest of all<br>That bloomed and smiled in the court of Saul,<br>All wasted with watching and famine now,<br>And scorched by the sun her haggard brow,<br>Sat mournfully guarding their corpses there,<br>And murmured a strange and solemn air;<br>The low, heart-broken, and wailing strain<br>Of a mother that mourns her children slain:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I have made the crags my home, and spread<br>On their desert backs my sackcloth bed;<br>I have eaten the bitter herb of the rocks,<br>And drunk the midnight dew in my locks;<br>I have wept till I could not weep, and the pain<br>Of my burning eyeballs went to my brain.<br>Seven blackened corpses before me lie,<br>In the blaze of the sun and the winds of the sky.<br>I have watched them through the burning day,<br>And driven the vulture and raven away;<br>And the cormorant wheeled in circles round,<br>Yet feared to alight on the guarded ground.<br>And when the shadows of twilight came,<br>I have seen the hyena's eyes of flame,<br>And heard at my side his stealthy tread,<br>But aye at my shout the savage fled:<br>And I threw the lighted brand to fright<br>The jackal and wolf that yelled in the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ye were foully murdered, my hapless sons,<br>By the hands of wicked and cruel ones;<br>Ye fell, in your fresh and blooming prime,<br>All innocent, for your father's crime.<br>He sinned--but he paid the price of his guilt<br>When his blood by a nameless hand was spilt;<br>When he strove with the heathen host in vain,<br>And fell with the flower of his people slain,<br>And the sceptre his children's hands should sway<br>From his injured lineage passed away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But I hoped that the cottage roof would be<br>A safe retreat for my sons and me;<br>And that while they ripened to manhood fast,<br>They should wean my thoughts from the woes of the past.<br>And my bosom swelled with a mother's pride,<br>As they stood in their beauty and strength by my side,<br>Tall like their sire, with the princely grace<br>Of his stately form, and the bloom of his face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh, what an hour for a mother's heart,<br>When the pitiless ruffians tore us apart!<br>When I clasped their knees and wept and prayed,<br>And struggled and shrieked to Heaven for aid,<br>And clung to my sons with desperate strength,<br>Till the murderers loosed my hold at length,<br>And bore me breathless and faint aside,<br>In their iron arms, while my children died.<br>They died--and the mother that gave them birth<br>Is forbid to cover their bones with earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The barley-harvest was nodding white,<br>When my children died on the rocky height,<br>And the reapers were singing on hill and plain,<br>When I came to my task of sorrow and pain.<br>But now the season of rain is nigh,<br>The sun is dim in the thickening sky,<br>And the clouds in sullen darkness rest<br>Where he hides his light at the doors of the west.<br>I hear the howl of the wind that brings<br>The long drear storm on its heavy wings;<br>But the howling wind and the driving rain<br>Will beat on my houseless head in vain:<br>I shall stay, from my murdered sons to scare<br>The beasts of the desert, and fowls of air.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><div class=q>
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hanged them in the hill before the Lord; and they fell all seven
together, and were put to death in the days of the harvest, in the
first days, in the beginning of barley-harvest.

A..."></div>
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