The tedious objections which many critics of the present day urge against the want of interest in scriptural subjects for Poems or Dramas, because the dénouement is previously known, may, with equal propriety, be advanced against every composition whether historical or fictitious; unless, after having once read a poem or romance, we fling it away for ever. It may be hoped, therefore, that though the title of Judith is familiar to many readers, it will not in its present dramatic form be the less interesting.

ASSYRIANS.

HOLOFERNES, Chief of the Army of Nabuchadonosor. SANBASSARUS.

ARBONA, an Arab leader follower of the Camp for

Scene-Bethulia, and the neighbouring Camp of the Assyrians.

1

THE FAIR AVENGER;

OR,

THE DESTROYER DESTROYED.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-The Grand Pavilion of Holofernes in the Assyrian Camp.

HOLOFERNES, ACHIOR, ARBONA, ESRAHADON, SanBASSARUS, Captains and Chiefs of the Army, in Council.

HOLOFERNES.

THUS far the unnumbered host invincible

Of Nabuchadonosor, mighty god,

Throned in the golden halls of Nineve,

The nations hath subdued: and those who dared

To disobey his high behests, nor joined

His dreadful standard when he overthrew

Arphaxad in the Ragauëan plains

And smote him with his darts, the regal towers

Of Ecbatana razing to the ground,

This arm hath swept from off th' encumbered earth! The carcasses of Israel's wandering tribes

On the hot desert sands I've scattered wide,

O'er the floods

A feast for all the fowls of heaven that follow
Our blood-stained flowing banners.
Of proud Euphrates, I this countless host
Led onward to the noble work of death;
And all those cities, that on the green banks
Of Arbonai stood in their towered pride,
Laid low in smoking ashes; spoiled the folds
Of Madian's vagrant race, and burnt up all
Their tents and tabernacles: while those sons
Of their chief men my desolating sword
In pity spared, I made my lowest slaves.

ESRAHADON.

Yes, chief of nations, we have by our arms
Achieved immortal glory.

HOLOFERNES.

She who sat

A queen amid her paradisiac vales,

Damascus famed, on fair Chrysora's stream,
Whose banks with richest rose-bowers, myrtle-groves,
And aromatic woods were sweetly crowned,

Is now no more: her gorgeous towers are dust;
Flames have consumed her; desolation sits