PART I.
SCENE -- A Sheperd's Tent on a Plain.
David, under a spreading Tree, plays on his Harp, and sings.
Great Lord of all things! Power divine!
Breathe on this erring heart of mine
Thy grace serene and pure:
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth--
The humble are secure!
Teach me to bless my lowly lot,
Confin'd to this paternal cot,
Remote from regal state!
Content to court the cooling glade,
Inhale the breeze, enjoy the shade,
And love my humble fate.
No anxious vigils here I keep,
No dreams of gold distract my sleep,
Nor lead my heart astray;
Nor blasting Envy's tainted gale
Pollutes the pleasures of the vale,
To vex my harmless day.
Yon tower, which rears its head so high,
And bids defiance to the sky,
Invites the hostile winds:
Yon branching oak, extending wide,
Provokes destruction by its pride,
And courts the fall it finds.
Then let me shun th' ambitious deed,
And all the dang'rous paths which lead
To honours falsely won:
Lord! in thy sure protection blest,
Submissive will I ever rest,
And may thy will be done!
[He lays down his Harp, and rises.]
David.
Methinks this shepherd's life were dull and tasteless,
Without the charm of soothing song or harp:
With it, not undelighted is the haunt
Of wood, or lonely grove, or russet plain,
Made vocal by the muse. With this lov'd harp,
This daily solace of my cares, I sooth'd
The melancholy monarch, when he lay
Smit by the chill and spirit-quenching hand
Of black Despair. God of my fathers, hear me
Here I devote my harp, my verse, myself,
To thy blest service! gladly to proclaim
Glory to God on high, on earth good-will
To man; to pour my grateful soul before thee
To sing thy power, thy wisdom, and thy love,
And every gracious attribute: to paint
The charms of heaven-born virtue! So shall I
(Though with long interval of worth) aspire
To imitate the work of saints above,
Of Cherub and of Seraphim. My heart,
My talents, all I am, and all I have,
Is thine, O Father! Gracious Lord, accept
The humble dedication! Offer'd gifts
Of slaughter'd bulls and goats sacrificial
Thou hast refused: but lo, I come, O Lord!
To do thy will: the living sacrifice
Of an obedient heart I lay before thee;
This humble offering more shall please thee, Lord.
New moons and Sabbaths, passovers and feasts!
Yet those I too will keep; but not in lieu
Of holiness substantial, inward worth,
As commutation cheap for pious deeds
And purity of life, but as the types
Of better things; as fair external signs
Of inward holiness and secret truth.
But see, my father, good old Jesse, comes;
To cheer the setting evening of whose life,
Content, a simple shepherd here I dwell,
Though Israel is in arms; and royal Saul,
Encamp'd in yonder field, defies Philistia.
JESSE, DAVID.
Jesse.
Blest be the gracious Power who gave my age
To boast a son like thee! Thou art the staff
Which props my bending years, and makes me bear
The heavy burden of declining age
With fond complacence. How unlike thy fate,
O venerable Eli! But two sons,
But only two, to gild the dim remains
Of life's departing day, and bless thy age,
And both were curses to thee! Witness, Heaven!
In all the cruel catalogue of pains
Humanity turns o'er, if there be one
So terrible to human tenderness
As an unnatural child!
David.
Oh! my loved father!
Long may'st thou live, in years and honours rich;
To taste and to communicate the joys,
The thousand fond endearing charities,
Of tenderness domestic; Nature's best
And loveliest gift, with which she well atones
The niggard boon of fortune.
Jesse.
Oh, my son!
Of all the graces which adorn thy youth,
I, with a father's fondness, must commend
Thy tried humility. For though the Seer
Pour'd on thy chosen head the sacred oil,
In sign of future greatness, in sure pledge
Of highest dignity, yet here thou dwell'st
Content with toil, and careless of repose;
And (harder still for an ingenious mind)
Content to be obscure; content to watch,
With careful eye, thine humble father's flock!
O earthly emblem of celestial things!
So Israel's shepherd watches o'er his fold:
The weak ones in his fostering bosom bears;
And gently leads, in his sustaining hand,
The feeble ones with young.
David.
Know'st thou, my father,
Aught from the field? for though so near the camp,
Though war's proud ensigns stream on yonder plain,
And all Philistia's swarming hosts encamp,
Opposed to royal Saul, beneath whose banners
My brothers lift the spear, -- I have not left
My fleecy charge, by thee committed to me,
To learn the various fortune of the war.
Jesse.
And wisely hast thou done. Thrice happy realm,
Who shall submit one day to his command
Who can so well obey! Obedience leads
To certain honours. Not the towering wing
Of eagle-plumed ambition mounts so surely
To fortune's highest summit as obedience.
[A distant Sound of Trumpets.]
But why that sudden ardour, O my son?
That trumpet's sound (though so remote its voice
We hardly catch the echo as it dies)
Has roused the mantling crimson in thy cheek,
Kindled the martial spirit in thine eye;
And my young shepherd feels an hero's fire!
David.
Thou hast not told the posture of the war;
And much my beating bosom pants to hear.
Jesse.
Uncertain is the fortune of the field.
I tremble for thy brothers, thus exposed
To constant peril; nor for them alone
Does the quick feeling agonize my heart.
I feel for all! -- I mourn that lingering war
Still hangs his banner o'er my native land,
Beloved Jerusalem! O war! what art thou?
At once the proof and scourge of man's fallen state!
After the brightest conquest, what appears
Of all thy glories? for the vanquish'd chains!
For the proud victor, what? Alas, to reign
O'er desolated nations! a drear waste,
By one man's crime, by one man's lust of power,
Unpeopled! Ravaged fields assume the place
Of smiling harvests, and uncultured plains
Succeed the fertile vineyard; barren waste
Deforms the spot once rich with luscious figs
And the fat olive -- Devastation reigns.
Here, rifled temples are the cavern'd dens
Of savage beasts, or haunts of birds obscene;
There populous cities blacken in the sun;
And in the general wreck, proud palaces
Lie undistinguished, save by the dun smoke
Of recent conflagration. When the song
Of dear-bought joy, with many a triumph swell'd,
Salutes the victor's ear, and soothes his pride,
How is the grateful harmony profaned
With the sad dissonance of virgins' cries,
Who mourn their brothers slain? of matrons hoar,
Who clasp their wither'd hands, and fondly ask,
With iteration shrill, their slaughter'd sons!
How is the laurel's verdure stain'd with blood,
And soil'd with widows' tears?
David.
Thrice mournful truth!
Yet when our country's sacred rights are menaced;
Her firm foundations shaken to their base;
When all we love, and all that we revere,
Our hearths and altars, children, parents, wives,
Our liberties and laws, the throne they guard,
Are scorn'd and trampled on -- then, then, my father,
'Tis then Religion's voice; then God himself
Commands us to defend his injured name,
And think the victory cheaply bought with life.
'Twere then inglorious weakness, mean self-love,
To lie inactive, when the stirring voice
Of the shrill trumpet wakes the patriot youth,
And, with heroic valour, bids them dare
The foul idolatrous bands, e'en to the death.
Jesse.
God and thy country claim the life they gave;
No other cause can sanctify resentment.
David.
Sure virtuous friendship is a noble cause!
Oh, were the princely Jonathan in danger,
How would I die, well pleased, in his defence!
When, 'twas long since, then but a stripling boy,
I made short sojourn in his father's palace
(At first to soothe his troubled mind with song,
His armour-bearer next), I well remember
The gracious bounties of the gallant prince,
How would he sit, attentive to my strain,
While to my harp I sung the harmless joys
Which crown a shepherd's life! How would he cry,
Bless'd youth! far happier in thy native worth,
Far richer in the talent Heaven has lent thee,
Than if a crown hung o'er thy anxious brow,
The jealous monarch mark'd our growing friendship;
And as my favour grew with those about him,
His royal bounty lessen'd, till at length,
For Bethlehem's safer shades, I left the court.
Nor would these alter'd features now be known,
Grown into manly strength: nor this changed form,
Enlarged with age, and clad in russet weed.
Jesse.
I have employment for thee, my loved son,
Will please thy active spirit. Go, my boy,
Haste to the field of war, to yonder camp,
Where, in the vale of Elah, mighty Saul
Commands the hosts of Israel. Greet thy brothers;
Observe their deeds, note their demeanour well,
And mark, if on their actions Wisdom waits.
Bear to them too (for well the waste of war
Will make it needful) such plain healthful viands
As furnish out our frugal shepherd's meal.
And to the valiant captain of their host
Present such rural gifts as suit our fortune;
Heap'd on the board within my tent thou'lt find them.
David.
With joy I'll hear thy presents to my brothers;
And to the valiant captain of their host
The rural gifts thy gratitude assigns him.
Delightful task! -- for I shall view the camp!
What transport to behold the tented field,
The pointed spear, the blaze of shields and arms,
And all the proud accoutrements of war!
But, oh! far dearer transport could it yield me,
Could this right arm alone avenge the cause
Of injured Israel! could my single death
Preserve the guiltless thousands doom'd to bleed!
Jesse.
Let not thy youth be dazzled, O my son!
With deeds of bold emprize, as valour only
Were virtue, and the gentle arts of peace,
Of truth, and justice, were not worth thy care.
When thou shalt view the splendours of the war,
The gay caparison, the burnish'd shield,
The plume-crown'd helmet, and the glittering spear,
Scorn not the humble virtues of the shade,
Nor think that Heaven views only with applause
The active merit and the busy toil
Of heroes, statesmen, and the bustling sons
Of public care. These have their just reward
In wealth, in honours, and the well-earn'd fame
Their high achievements bring. 'Tis in this view
That virtue is her proper recompense:
Wealth, as its natural consequence, will flow
From industry; toil with success is crown'd:
From splendid actions high renown will spring:
Such is the usual course of human things;
For Wisdom Infinite permits, that thus
Effects to causes be proportionate,
And natural ends by natural means achieved.
But in the future estimate which Heaven
Will make of things terrestrial, know, my son,
That no inferior blessing is reserved,
For the mild passive virtues: meek Content,
Heroic Self-denial, nobler far
Than all the achievements noisy Fame reports,
When her shrill trump proclaims the proud success
Which desolates the nations. But, on earth,
These are not always prosperous -- mark the cause:
Eternal Justice keeps them for the bliss
Of final recompense, for the dread day
Of general retribution. O my son!
The ostentatious virtues which still press
For notice and for praise; the brilliant deeds
Which live but in the eye of observation,
These have their meed at once. But there's a joy
To the fond votaries of fame unknown,
To hear the still small voice of Conscience speak
Its whispering plaudit to the silent soul.
Heaven notes the sigh afflicted Goodness heaves,
Hears the low plaint by human ear unheard,
And from the cheek of patient sorrow wipes
The tear, by mortal eye unseen or scorn'd.
David.
As Hermon's dews their grateful freshness shed,
And cheer the herbage and the flowers anew,
So do thy words a quickening balm infuse,
And grateful sink in my delighted soul.
Jesse.
Go then, my child! and may the gracious God
Who bless'd our fathers, bless my much-loved son!
David.
Farewell, my father! -- and of this be sure,
That not one precept from thy honour'd lips
Shall fall by me unnoticed; not one grace,
One venerable virtue, which adorns
Thy daily life, but I, with watchful care
And due observance, will in mine transplant it.
[Exit David.]
Jesse.
He's gone! and still my aching eyes pursue,
And strain their orbs still longer to behold him.
Oh! who can tell when I may next embrace him?
Who can declare the counsels of the Lord?
Or when the moment, pre-ordain'd by Heaven
To fill his great design, may come? This son,
This blessing of my age, is set apart
For high exploits; the chosen instrument
Of all-disposing Heaven for mighty deeds.
Still I recall the day, and to my mind
The scene is ever present, when the Seer,
Illustrious Samuel, to the humble shades
Of Bethlehem came, pretending sacrifice,
To screen his errand from the jealous king.
He sanctified us first, me and my sons;
For sanctity increased should still precede
Increase of dignity. When he declared
He came, commission'd from on High, to find,
Among the sons of Jesse, Israel's king,
Astonishment entranced my wondering soul!
Yet was it not a wild tumultuous bliss,
Such rash delight as promised honours yield
To light vain minds: no, 'twas a doubtful joy,
Chastised by timorous Virtue, lest a gift
So splendid and so dangerous might destroy
Him it was meant to raise. My eldest born,
Eliab, tall of stature, I presented;
But God, who judged not by outward form,
But tries the heart, forbade the holy prophet
To choose my eldest born. For Saul, he said,
Gave proof that fair proportion, and the grace
Of limb or feature, ill repaid the want
Of virtue. All my other sons alike
By Samuel were rejected; till, at last,
On my young boy, on David's chosen head,
The prophet pour'd the consecrated oil.
Yet ne'er did pride elate him, ne'er did scorn
For his rejected elders swell his heart.
Not in such gentle charity to him
His haughtier brothers live: but all he pardons.
To meditation, and to humble toil,
To prayer and praise devoted, here he dwells.
Oh, may the graces which adorn retreat
One day delight a court! record his name
With saints and prophets, dignify his race,
And may the sacred songs his leisure frames
Instruct mankind! and sanctify a world.
PART II.
SCENE -- The Camp.
Eliab, Abinadab, Abner, Israelites.
Eliab.
Still is the event of this long war uncertain
Still do the adverse hosts on either side
Protract, with lingering caution, an encounter,
Which must to one be fatal.
Abinadab.
This descent,
Thus to the very confines of our land,
Proclaims the sanguine hope that fires the foe,
In Ephes-dammim boldly they encamp:
The uncircumcised Philistines pitch their tents
On Judah's hallow'd earth.
Eliab.
Full forty days
Has the insulting giant, proud Goliath,
The champion of Philistia, fiercely challenged
Some Israelitish foe. But who so vain
To dare such force unequal? who so bent
On sure destruction, to accept his terms,
And rush on death, beneath the giant force
Of his enormous bulk?
Abinadab.
'Tis near the time,
When, in the adjacent valley which divides
The opposing armies, he is wont to make
His daily challenge.
Eliab.
Much I marvel, brother,
No greetings from our father reach our ears.
With ease and plenty blest, he little recks
The daily hardships which his sons endure.
But see! behold, his darling boy approaches!
Abinadab.
How, David here! whence this unlook'd for guest!
Eliab.
A spy upon our actions; sent, no doubt,
To scan our deeds, with beardless gravity
Affecting wisdom; to observe each word,
To magnify the venial faults of youth,
And construe harmless mirth to foul offence.
Enter David.
David.
All hail, my dearest brothers!
Eliab.
Means thy greeting
True love, or arrogant scorn?
David.
Oh, most true love!
Sweet as the precious ointment which bedew'd
The sacred head of Aaron, and descended
Upon his hallow'd vest; so sweet, my brothers,
Is fond fraternal amity; such love
As my touch'd bosom feels at your approach.
Eliab.
Still that fine glozing speech, those holy saws,
And all that trick of studied sanctity,
Of smooth-turn'd periods and trim eloquence,
Which charms thy doting father! But confess,
What dost thou here? Is it to soothe thy pride,
And gratify thy vain desire to roam
In quest of pleasures unhallowed? or com'st thou,
A willing spy, to note thy brothers' deeds?
Where hast thou left those few poor straggling sheep?
More suited to thy ignorance and years
The care of those, than here to wander idly:
Why cam'st thou hither?
David.
Is there not a cause?
Why that displeasure kindling in thine eye,
My angry brother? why those taunts unkind?
Not idly bent on sport; not to delight
Mine eye with all this gay parade of war;
To gratify a roving appetite,
Or fondly to indulge a curious ear
With any tale of rumour, am I come;
But to approve myself a loving brother.
I bring the blessing of your aged sire,
With gifts of such plain cates and rural viands
As suit his frugal fortune. Tell me now,
Where the bold captain of your host encamps?
Eliab.
Wherefore inquire? what boots it thee to know?
Behold him there! great Abner, famed in arms.
David.
I bring thee, mighty Abner, from my father
(A simple shepherd swain in yonder vale),
Such humble gifts as shepherd swains bestow.
Abner.
Thanks, gentle youth! with pleasure I receive
The grateful offering. Why does thy quick eye
Thus wander with unsatisfied delight?
David.
New as I am to all the trade of war,
Each sound has novelty; each thing I see
Attracts attention; every noise I hear
Awakes confused emotions; indistinct,
Yet full of charming tumult, sweet distraction.
'Tis all delightful hurry! Oh! the joy
Of young ideas painted on the mind,
In the warm glowing colours fancy spreads
On objects not yet known, when all is new,
And all is lovely! Ah! what warlike sound
Sultes my ravish'd ear? [Sound of Trumpet.
Abner.
'Tis the Philistine,
Proclaiming by his herald, through the ranks,
His near approach. Each morning he appears
His challenge to our bands.
David.
Ha! what Philistine?
Who is he?
Eliab.
Wherefore ask? for thy raw youth
And rustic ignorance, 'twere fitter learn
Some rural art! some secret to prevent
Contagion in thy flocks; some better means
To save their fleece immaculate. These means arts
Of soft inglorious peace far better suit
Thy low obscurity, than thus to seek
High things pertaining to exploits of arms.
David.
Urged as I am, I will not answer thee.
Who conquers his own spirit, O my brother!
He is the only conqueror. -- Again
That shout mysterious. Pray you, [to Abner.] tell me who
This proud Philistine is, who sends defiance
To Israel's hardy chieftains?
Abner.
Stranger youth,
So lovely and so mild is thy demeanour,
So gentle and so patient; such the air
Of candour and of courage which adorns
Thy blooming features, thou hast won my love;
And I will tell thee.
David.
Mighty Abner, thanks.
Abner.
Thrice, and no more, he sounds his daily rule.
This man of war, this champion of Philistia,
Is of the sons of Anak's giant race:
Goliath is his name. His fearful stature,
Unparallel'd in Israel, measures more
Than twice three cubits. On his towering head
A healm of burnish'd brass the giant wears,
So ponderous, it would crush the stoutest man
In all our hosts. A coat of mailed armour
Guards his capacious trunk; compared with which
The amplest oak, that spreads his rugged arms
In Bashan's groves, were small. About his neck
A shining corslet hangs. On his vast thigh
The plaited cuirass, firmly jointed, stands.
But who shall tell the wonders of his spear,
And hope to gain belief! Of massive iron
Its temper'd frame; not less than the broad beam
To which the busy weaver hangs his loom:
Not to be wielded by a mortal hand
Save by his own. An armour-bearer walks
Before this mighty champion, in his hand
Bearing the giant's shield. Thrice every morn
His herald sounds the trumpet of defiance!
Offering at once to end the long-drawn war
In single combat, 'gainst that hardy foe
Who dares encounter him.
David.
Say, mighty Abner,
What are the haughty terms of his defiance?
Abner.
Proudly he stalks around the extremest bounds
Of Elah's vale. His herald sounds the note
Of offer'd battle. Then the furious giant,
With such a voice as from the troubled sky
In vollied thunder breaks, thus sends his challenge
"Why do you set your battle in array,
Ye men of Israel? Wherefore waste the lives
Of needless thousands? Why protract a war
Which may at once be ended? Are not you
Servants to Saul, your king? and am not I
With triumph let me speak it, a Philistine?
Choose out a man from all your armed hosts,
Of courage most approved, and I will meet him;
His single arm to mine. The event of this
Shall fix the fate of Israel and Philistia.
If victory favour him, then will we live
Your tributary slaves; but if my arm
Be crown'd with conquest, you shall then live ours.
Give me a man, if your effeminate bands
A man can boast. Your armies I defy!"
David.
What shall be done to him who shall subdue
This vile idolater?
Abner.
He shall receive
Such ample bounties, such profuse rewards,
As might inflame the old, or warm the coward,
Were not the odds so desperate.
David.
Say, what are they?
Abner.
The royal Saul has promised that bold hero,
Who should encounter and subdue Goliath,
All dignity and favour; that his house
Shall be set free from tribute, and ennobled
With the first honours Israel has to give.
And for the gallant conqueror himself,
No less a recompense than the fair princess,
Our monarch's peerless daughter.
David.
Beauteous Michael!
It is indeed a boon which kings might strive for.
And has none answer'd yet this bold defiance?
What! all this goodly host of Israelites!
God's own peculiar people! all afraid
To assert God's injured honour and their own?
Where is the king, who in his early youth
Wrought deeds of fame? Where princely Jona then?
Not so the gallant youth Philistia fear'd
At Bozez and at Seneh; when the earth
Shook from her deep foundations, to behold
The wondrous carnage of his single hand
On the uncircumcised. When he exclaim'd,
With glorious confidence, "Shall numbers awe me?
God will protect his own: with him to save,
It boots not, friends, by many or by few."
This was a hero! Why does he delay
To meet this boaster? For thy courtesy,
Thrice noble Abner, I am bound to thank thee!
Would'st thou complete thy generous offices?
I dare not ask it.
Abner.
Speak thy wishes freely;
My soul inclines to serve thee.
David.
Then, O Abner,
Conduct me to the king. There is a cause
Will justify this boldness.
Eliab.
Braggard, hold!
Abner.
I take thee at thy word; and will, with speed,
Conduct thee to my royal master's presence.
In yonder tent the anxious monarch waits
The event of this day's challenge.
David.
Noble Abner,
Accept my thanks. Now to thy private ear,
If so thy grace permit, I will unfold
My secret soul, and ease my labouring breast,
Which pants with high designs, and beats for glory.
PART III.
SCENE -- Saul's Tent.
Saul.
Why was I made a king? what I have gain'd
In envied greatness and uneasy power,
I've lost in peace of mind, in virtue lost!
Why did deceitful transports fire my soul,
When Samuel plac'd upon my youthful brow
The crown of Israel? I had known content,
Nay happiness, if happiness unmix'd
To mortal man were known, had I still lived
Among the humble tents of Benjamin.
A shepherd's occupation was my joy,
And every guiltless day was crown'd with peace.
But now, a sullen cloud for ever hangs
O'er the faint sunshine of my brightest hours,
Dark'ning the golden promise of the morn.
I ne'er shall taste the dear domestic joys
My meanest subjects know. True, I have sons,
Whose virtues would have charm'd a private man,
And drawn down blessings on their humble sire.
I love their virtues too; but 'tis a love
Which jealousy has poison'd. Jonathan
Is all a father's fondness could conceive
Of amiable and good -- Of that no more!
He is too popular; the people dote
Upon the ingenious graces of his youth.
Curs'd popularity! which makes a father
Detest the merit of a son he loves.
How did their fond idolatry, perforce,
Rescue his sentenced life, when doom'd by lot
To perish at Beth-aven, for the breach
Of strict injunction, that of all my bands
Not one that day should taste of food and live!
My subjects clamour at this tedious war;
Yet, of my num'rous armed chiefs, not one
Has courage to engage this man of Gath.
Oh for a champion bold enough to face
This giant-boaster, whose repeated threats
Strike through my inmost soul! There was a time--
Of that no more! -- I am not what I was.
Should valiant Jonathan accept the challenge,
'Twould but increase his influence, raise his fame,
And make the crown sit loosely on my brow.
Ill could my wounded spirit brook the voice
Of harsh comparison 'twixt sire and son.
Saul, Abner.
Abner.
What meditation holds thee thus engaged,
O king! and keeps thine active spirit bound;
When busy war far other cares demands
Than ruminating thought and pale despair?
Saul.
Abner, draw near. My weary soul sinks down
Beneath the heavy pressure of misfortune.
O for that spirit which inflamed my breast
With sudden fervour, when among the seers
And holy sages my prophetic voice
Was heard attentive, and the astonish'd throng,
Wondering, exclaim'd, -- "Is Saul among the Prophets?"
Where's that bold arm which quell'd the Amalekite
And nobly spared fierce Agag and his flocks?
'Tis past! the light of Israel now is quench'd:
Shorn of his beams, my sun of glory sets!
Rise Moab, Edom, angry Ammon rise!
Come Gaza! Ashdod come! let Ekron boast,
And Askelon rejoice, for Saul is -- nothing.
Abner.
I bring thee news, O king!
Saul.
My valiant uncle!
What can avail thy news? A soul oppress'd
Refuses still to hear the charmer's voice,
Howe'er enticingly he charms. What news
Can soothe my sickly soul, while Gath's fell giant
Repeats each morning to my frighten'd hosts
His daring challenge, none accepting it?
Abner.
It is accepted.
Saul.
Ha! by whom? how? when?
What prince, what general, what illustrious hero,
What veteran chief, what warrior of renown,
Will dare to meet the haughty foe's defiance?
Speak, my brave general! noble Abner, speak!
Abner.
No prince, no warrior, no illustrious chief,
No veteran hero, dares accept the challenge;
But what will move thy wonder, mighty king,
One train'd to peaceful deeds, and new to arms,
A simple shepherd swain!
Saul.
Oh mockery
No more of this slight tale, it suits but ill
Thy bearded gravity: or rather tell it
To credulous age, or weak believing women;
They love whate'er is marvellous, and dote
On deeds prodigious and incredible,
Which sober sense rejects. I laugh to think
Of thy extravagance. A shepherd's boy
Encounter him whom nations dread to meet!
Abner.
Is valour then peculiar to high birth?
If Heaven had so decreed, know, scornful king,
That Saul the Benjamite had never reign'd.
No! glory darts her soul-pervading ray
On thrones and cottages, regardless still
Of all the artificial nice distinctions
Vain human customs make.
Saul.
Where is this youth?
Abner.
Without thy tent he waits. Such humble sweetness,
Fired with the secret conscience of desert
Such manly bearing, temper'd with such softness,
And so adorn'd with every outward charm
Of graceful form and feature, saw I never.
Saul.
Bring me the youth.
Abner.
He waits thy royal pleasure.
[Exit Abner.]
Saul.
What must I think? Abner himself is brave,
And skill'd in humankind: nor does he judge
So lightly, to be caught with specious words
And fraud's smooth artifice, were there not marks
Of worth intrinsic. But, behold, he comes;
The youth too with him! Justly did he praise
The candour which adorns his open brow.
Re-enter Abner, and David.
David.
Hail, mighty king!
Abner.
Behold thy proffer'd champion.
Saul.
Art thou the youth whose high heroic zeal
Aspires to meet the giant son of Anak?
David.
If so the king permit.
Saul.
Impossible!
Why, what experience has thy youth of arms?
Where, stripling, didst thou learn the trade of war?
Beneath what hoary veteran hast thou served?
What feats hast thou achieved, what daring deeds?
What well-ranged phatanx, say, what charging hosts,
What hard campaigns, what sieges hast thou seen?
Hast thou e'er scaled the city's rampired wall,
Or hurl'd the missile dart, or learn'd to poise
The warrior's deathful spear? The use of targe,
Of helm, and buckler, is to thee unknown.
David.
Arms I have seldom seen. I little know
Of war's proud discipline. The trumpet's clang,
The shock of charging hosts, the rampired wall,
The embattled phalanx, and the warrior's spear,
The use of targe and helm to me is new.
My zeal for God, my patriot love of Israel,
My reverence for my king, behold my claims!
Saul.
But, gentle youth, thou hast no fame in arms.
Renown, with her shrill clarion, never bore
Thy honour'd name to many a land remote;
From the fair regions where Euphrates laves
Assyria's borders to the distant Nile.
David.
True, mighty king! I am indeed alike
Unbless'd by Fortune, and to Fame unknown;
A lowly shepherd swain of Juda's tribe:
But greatness ever springs from low beginnings.
That very Nile thou mention'st, whose broad stream
Bears fruitfullness and health through many a clime,
From an unknown, penurious, scanty source
Took its first rise. The forest oak, which shades
The sultry troops in many a toilsome march,
Once an unheeded acorn lay. O king!
Who ne'er begins can never aught achieve
Of glorious. Thou thyself was once unknown,
Till fair occasion brought thy worth to light.
Far higher views inspire my youthful heart
Than human praise: I seek to vindicate
The insulted honour of the God I serve.
Abner.
'Tis nobly said.
Saul.
I love thy spirit, youth:
But dare not trust thy inexperienced arm
Against a giant's might. The sight of blood,
Though brave thou feel'st when peril is not nigh,
Will pale thy ardent cheek.
David.
Not so, O king!
This youthful arm has been imbrued in blood,
Though yet no blood of men has ever stain'd it.
Thy servant's occupation is a shepherd.
With jealous care I watch'd my father's flock;
A brindled lion and a furious bear
Forth from the thicket rush'd upon the fold,
Seized a young lamb and tore their bleating spoil.
Urged by compassion for my helpless charge,
I felt a new-born vigour in my arm;
And eager on the foaming monsters rushed.
The famish'd lion by his grisly beard,
Enraged, I caught, and smote him to the ground.
The panting monster struggling in my gripe,
Shook terribly his bristling mane, and lash'd
His own gaunt, gory sides; fiercely he ground
His gnashing teeth, and roll'd his starting eyes,
Bloodshot with agony; then with a groan,
That wak'd the echoes of the mountain, died.
Nor did his grim associate 'scape my arm;
Thy servant slew the lion and the bear;
I kill'd them both, and bore their shaggy spoils
In triumph home: and shall I fear to meet
The uncircumcised Philistine! No: that God,
Who saved me from the bear's destructive fang,
And hungry lion's jaw, will not he save me
From this idolater?
Saul.
He will, he will!
Go, noble youth! be valiant and be bless'd!
The God thou serv'st will shield thee in the fight,
And nerve thy arm with more than mortal strength.
Abner.
So the bold Nazarite, a lion slew:
An earnest of his victories o'er Philistia!
Saul.
Go, Abner; see the youth be well equipp'd
With shield and spear. Be it thy care to grace him
With all the fit accoutrements of war,
The choicest mail from my rich armory take,
And gird upon his thigh my own tried sword,
Of noblest temper'd steel.
Abner.
I shall obey.
David.
Pardon, O king! the coat of plaited mail
These limbs have never known; it would not shield,
'Twould but encumber one who never felt
The weight of armour.
Saul.
Take thy wish, my son!
Thy sword then, and the God of Jacob, guard thee!
PART IV.
SCENE -- Another part of the Camp.
David (kneeling.)
Eternal Justice! in whose awful scale
The event of battle hangs! Eternal Truth!
Whose beam illumines all! Eternal Mercy!
If by thy attributes I may, unblamed,
Address thee; Lord of Glory! hear me now;
Oh teach these hands to war, these arms to fight!
Thou ever-present help in time of need!
Let thy broad mercy, as a shield defend,
And let thine everlasting arm support me!
Strong in thy strength, in thy protection safe.
Then though the heathen rage, I shall not fear.
Jehovah, be my buckler! Mighty Lord!
Thou who hast deign'd by humble instruments
To manifest the wonders of thy might,
Be present with me now! 'Tis thine own cause!
Thy wisdom sees events, thy goodness plans
Schemes, baffling our conceptions -- and 'tis still
Omnipotence which executes the deed
Of high design, though by a feeble arm!
I feel a secret impulse drive me on;
And my soul springs impatient for the fight!
'Tis not the heated spirits, or warm blood
Of sanguine youth, with which m bosom burns;
And, though I thirst to meet th' insulting foe,
And pant for glory, 'tis not, witness Heaven,
'Tis not the sinful lust of fading fame,
The perishable praise of mortal man;
His praise I covet whose applause is Life.
David, Eliab, Iraelites.
Eliab.
What do I hear? thou truant! thou hast dare
E'en to the awful presence of the king
Bear thy presumption!
David.
He who fears the Lord
Shall boldly stand before the face of kings,
And shall not be ashamed.
Eliab.
But what wild dream
Has urged thee to this deed of desperate rashness?
Thou mean'st, so I have learn'd, to meet Goliath,
His single arm to thine.
David.
'Tis what I purpose,
E'en on this spot. Each moment I expect
His wished approach.
Eliab.
Go home; return, for shame!
Nor madly draw destruction on thy head.
Thy doting father, when thy shepherd's coat,
Drench'd in thy blood, is brought him, will lament,
And rend his furrow'd cheek, and silver hair,
As if some mighty loss had touch'd his age:
And mourn, even as the partial patriarch mourn'd,
When Joseph's bloody garment he received
From his less dear, not less deserving sons.
But whence that glittering ornament, which hangs
Useless upon thy thigh?
David.
'Tis the kings gift.
But thou art right; it suits not me, my brother!
Nor sword I mean to use, nor spear to poise,
Lest men should say I put my trust in arms,
Not in the Lord of Hosts.
Eliab.
Then thou, indeed,
Art bent to seek thy death?
David.
And what is death?
Is it so terrible to die, my brother?
Or grant it terrible, is it for that
The less inevitable? If indeed
We could by stratagem elude the blow,
When some high duty calls us forth to die,
And thus for ever shun it, and escape
The universal lot, -- then fond self-love,
Then cautious prudence, boldly might produce
Their fine-spun arguments, their learned harrangues,
Their cob-web arts, their phrase sophistical,
Their subtle doubts, and all the specious trick
Of selfish cunning labouring for its end.
But since, howe'er protected, death will come,
Why fondly study, with ingenious pains,
To put it off? -- To breathe a little longer
Is to defer our fate, but not to shun it.
Small gain! which Wisdom with indifferent eye
Beholds. Why wish to drink the bitter dregs
Of life's exhausted chalice, whose last runnings,
Even at the best, are vapid? Why not die
(If Heaven so will) in manhood's opening bloom,
When all the flush of life is gay about us;
When sprightly youth, with many a new-born joy
Solicits every sense? so may we then
Present a sacrifice, unmeet indeed,
(Ah, how unmeet!) but less unworthy far,
Than the world's leavings; than a worn-out heart,
By vice enfeebled, and by vain desire
Sunk and exhausted!
Eliab.
Hark! I hear a sound
Of multitudes approaching!
David.
'Tis the giant!
I see him not, but hear his measured pace.
Eliab.
Look, where his ponderous shield is borne before him!
David.
Like a broad moon its ample disk portends,
But soft! -- what unknown prodigy appears?
A moving mountain cased in polish'd brass.
Eliab (getting behind David.)
How's this? thou dost not tremble! thy firm joints
Betray no fear; thy accents are not broken;
Thy cheek retains its red; thine eye its lustre!
He comes more near! Dost thou not fear him now?
David.
No. The vast colossal statue nor inspires
Respect nor fear. Mere magnitude of form,
Without proportioned intellect and valour,
Strikes not my soul with reverence or with awe.
Eliab.
Near and more near he comes! I hold it rash
To stay so near him, and expose a life
Which may hereafter serve the state. Farewell.
[Exit.]
[Goliath advances, clad in Armour. One bearing his Shield precedes him. The two Armies in the distance drawn up on opposite sides.]
Goliath.
Where is the mighty man of war, who dares
Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?
What victor king, what general drench'd in blood,
Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?
What proud credentials does the boaster bring
To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes?
What ruin'd provinces? What slaughter'd realms?
What heads of heroes, and what hearts of kings,
In battle kill'd, or at his altar slain,
Has he to boast? Is his bright armory
Thick set with spears, and swords and coats of mail
Of vanquish'd nations, by his single arm
Subdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,
So much a wretch, so out of love with life,
To dare the weight of this uplifted spear,
Which never fell innoxious? Yet I swear,
I grudge the glory to his parting soul
To fall by this right hand. 'Twill sweeten death,
To know he had the honour to contend
With the dread son of Anak. Latest time
From blank oblivion shall retrieve his name
Who dared to perish in unequal fight
With Gath's triumphant champion. Come, advance,
Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald---
Sound for the battle straight.
[Herald sounds the Trumpet.]
David.
Behold thy foe.
Goliath.
I see him not.
David.
Behold him here!
Goliath.
Say where!
Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.
David.
I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.
Goliath.
Why, this is mockery, minion? it may chance
To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee!
But tell me who of all this numerous host
Expects his death from me! Which is the man
Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?
David.
The election of my sovereign falls on me.
Goliath.
On thee! on thee! By Dagon, 'tis too much!
Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!
'Twould move my mirth at any other time:
But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!
And tempt me not too far.
David.
I do defy thee,
Thou foul idolater! Hast thou not scorn'd
The armies of the living God I serve?
By me he will avenge upon thy head
Thy nation's sins and thine. Arm'd with his name,
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe
That ever bath'd his hostile spear in blood.
Goliath (Ironically.)
Indeed! 'tis wondrous well. Now, by my gods,
The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!
Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,
And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!
Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung
Of idle field-flowers? where thy wanton harp,
Thou dainty-finger'd hero? better strike
Its notes lascivious, or the lulling lute
Touch softly, than provoke the trumpet's rage.
I will not stain the honour of my spear
With thy inglorious blood. Shall that fair cheek
Be scarred with wounds unseemly? Rather go
And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids:
To wanton measures dance, and let them braid
The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair;
They for their lost Adonis may mistake
Thy dainty form.
David.
Peace, thou unhallow'd railer!
Oh, tell it not in Gath, nor let the sound
Reach Askelon, how once your slaughter'd lords
By mighty Samson found on common grave!
When his broad shoulders the firm pillars heaved,
And to its base the tottering fabric shook.
Goliath.
Insulting boy! perhaps thou hast not heard
The infamy of that inglorious day,
When your weak hosts at Eben-ezer pitch'd
Their quick-abandon'd tents? Then, when your ark,
Your talisman, your charm, your boasted pledge
Of safety and success, was tamely lost!
And yet not tamely, since by me 'twas won.
When with this good right arm I thinn'd your ranks,
And bravely crush'd beneath a single blow,
The chosen guardians of this vaunted shrine,
Mophni and Phineas. The famed ark itself
I bore to Ashdod.
David.
I remember too,
Since thou provok'st th' unwelcome truth, how all
Your blushing priests beheld their idol's shame;
When prostrate Dagon fell before the ark,
And your frail god was shiver'd. Then Philistia,
Idolatrous Philistia, flew for succour
To Israel's help; and all her smitten nobles
Confess'd the Lord was God; and the bless'd ark
Gladly, with reverential awe, restored.
Goliath.
By Ashdod's fane, thou hest. Now will I meet thee,
Thou inspect warrior, since thou dar'st me thus!
Already I behold thy mangled limbs,
Dissever'd each from each, ere long to feed
The fierce blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well:
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks,
And toss in air thy head all gash'd with wounds,
Thy lip yet quivering with the dire convulsion
Of recent death! -- art thou not terrified?
David.
No :--
True courage is not moved by breath of words:
While the rash bravery of boiling blood,
Impetuous, knows no settled principle.
A feverish tide, it has its ebbs and flows,
As spirits rise, or fall, as wine inflames,
Or circumstances change: but inborn courage,
The generous child of Fortitude and Faith,
Holds its firm empire in the constant soul;
And, like the stedfast polestar, never once
From the same fix'd and faithful point declines.
Goliath.
The curses of Philistia's gods be on thee!
This fine-drawn speech is meant to lengthen out
That little life thy words pretend to scorn.
David.
Ha! say'st thou so? Come on then. Mark us well.
Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and shield;
In the dread name of Israel's God I come;
The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defy'st!
Yet though no shield I bring, no arms except
These five smooth stones I gather'd from the brook,
With such a simple sling as shepherds use.--
Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey
To my victorious arm. This day I mean
To make the uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone;
The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts
Shall spread the plains of Elah, till Philistia,
Though all her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!
-- I dare thee to the trial.
Goliath.
Follow me---
In this good spear I trust.
David.
I trust in Heaven!
The God of battle stimulates my arm,
And fires my soul with ardour not its own.
PART V.
SCENE -- The Tent of Saul.
Saul (rising from his Couch).
Oh! that I knew the black and midnight arts
Of wizard sorcery! that I could call
The slumbering spirit from the shades of hell!
Or, like Chaldean sages, could foreknow
The event of things unacted! I might then
Anticipate my fortune. How I'm fallen!
The sport of vain chimeras, the weak slave
Of Fear and Fancy; coveting to know
The arts obscene, which foul diviners use.
Thick blood and moping melancholy lead
To baleful Superstition -- that fell fiend,
Whose withering charms blast the fair bloom of virtue.
Why did my wounded pride, with scorn reject
The wholesome truths which holy Samuel told me?
Why drive him from my presence? he might now
Raise my sunk soul, and my benighted mind
Enlighten with Religion's cheering ray.
He dar'd to menace me with loss of empire;
And I, for that bold honesty, dismissed him.
"Another shall possess thy throne," he cried:
"A stranger!" This unwelcome prophecy
Has lined my crown, and strewed my couch with thorns.
Each ray of opening merit I discern
In friend or foe, distracts my troubled soul,
Lest he should prove my rival. But this morn,
Even my young champion, lovely as he look'd
In blooming valour, struck me to the soul
With jealousy's barb'd dart. O Jealousy,
Thou ugliest fiend of hell! thy deadly venom
Preys on my vitals, turns the heathful hue
Of my fresh cheek to haggard sallowness,
And drinks my spirit up!
[A flourish of trumpets, shouting, &c.]
What sounds are those?
The combat is decided! Hark! again
Those shouts proclaim it! Now, O God of Jacob
if yet thou hast not quite withdrawn from Saul
Thy light and favour, prosper me this once!
But Abner comes! I dread to hear his tale!
Fair Hope, with smiling face but ling'ring foot,
Has long deceived me.
Abner.
King of Israel, hail!
Now thou art king indeed. The youth has conquer'd:
Goliath's dead.
Saul.
Oh speak thy tale again,
Lest my fond ears deceive me!
Abner.
Thy young champion
Has slain the giant.
Saul.
Then God is gracious still,
In spite of my offences! But, good Abner,
How was it? Tell me all. Where is my champion?
Quick let me press him to my grateful heart,
And pay him a king's thanks. And yet, who knows,
This forward friend may prove an active foe!
No more of that. Tell me the whole, brave Abner;
And paint the glorious acts of my young hero!
Abner.
Full in the centre of the camp they stood!
The opposing armies ranged on either side
In proud array. The haughty giant stalk'd
Stately across the valley. Next, the youth
With modest confidence advanc'd. Nor pomp,
Nor gay parade, nor martial ornament,
His graceful form adorn'd. Goliath straight,
With solemn state, began the busy work
Of dreadful preparation. In one place
His closely jointed mail an opening left
For air, and only one: the watchful youth
Mark'd that the beaver of his helm was up.
Meanwhile the giant such a blow devis'd
As would have crush'd him. This the youth perceived,
And from his well-directed sling quick hurl'd,
With dextrous aim, a stone, which sunk, deep lodg'd,
In the capacious forehead of the foe.
Then with a cry, as loud and terrible
As Lybian lions roaring for their young,
Quite stunn'd, the furious giant stagger'd, reel'd,
And fell: the mighty mass of man fell prone.
With its own weight his shatter'd bulk was bruis'd;
His clatt'ring arms rung dreadful thro' the field,
And the firm basis of the solid earth
Shook. Chok'd with blood and dust, he curs'd his gods
And died blaspheming! Straight the victor youth
Drew from its sheath the giant's pond'rous sword,
And from the enormous trunk the gory head
Furious in death he sever'd. The grim visage
Look'd threat'ning still, and still frown'd horribly.
Saul.
O glorious deed! O valiant conqueror!
Abner.
The youth so calm appear'd, so nobly firm,
So cool, yet so intrepid, that these eyes
Ne'er saw such temperate valour so chastised
By modesty.
Saul.
Thou dwell'st upon his praise
With needless circumstance. 'Twas nobly done;
But others too have fought!
Abner.
None, none so bravely.
Saul.
What follow'd next?
Abner.
The shouting Israelites
On the Philistines rush'd, and still pursue
Their routed remnants. In dismay, their bands
Disorder'd fly, while shouts of loud acclaim
Pursue their brave deliverer. Lo, he comes!
Bearing the giant's head and shining sword,
His well-earn'd trophies.
Saul, Abner, David.
[David, bearing Goliath's Head and Sword. He kneels, and lays both at Saul's Feet.]
Saul.
Welcome to my heart,
My glorious champion! My deliverer, welcome!
How shall I speak the swelling gratitude
Of my full heart! or give thee the high praise
Thy gallant deeds deserve!
David.
O mighty king!
Sweet is the breath of praise, when given by those
Whose own high merit claims the praise they give.
But let not this one prosperous event,
By Heaven directed, be ascrib'd to me;
I might have fought with equal skill and courage,
And not have gain'd this conquest; then had shame,
Harsh obloquy, and foul disgrace, befall'n me:
But prosp'rous fortune gains the praise of valour.
Saul.
I like not this. In every thing superior
He soars above me (Aside). -- Modest youth, thou'rt right;
And fortune, as thou say'st, deserves the praise
We give to human valour.
David.
Rather say
The God of Hosts deserves it.
Saul.
Tell me, youth,
What is thy name, and what thy father's house?
David.
My name is David; Jesse is my sire:
An humble Bethle'mite of Judah's tribe.
Saul.
David, the son of Jesse! sure that name
Has been familiar to me. Nay, thy voice,
Thy form, and features, I remember too,
Though faint and indistinctly.
Abner.
In this hero
Behold thy sweet musician; he whose harp
Expell'd the melancholy fiend whose pow'r
Enslav'd thy spirit.
Saul.
This the modest youth
Whom, for his skill and virtues, I preferr'd.
To bear my armour?
David.
I am he, O king!
Saul.
Why this concealment? tell me, valiant David,
Why didst thou hide thy birth and name till now?
David.
O king! I would not aught from favour claim,
Or on remember'd services presume;
But on the strength of my own actions stand,
Ungrac'd and unsupported.
Abner.
Well he merits
The honours which await him. Why, O king,
Dost thou delay to bless his doubting heart
With his well-earn'd rewards, thy lovely daughter,
By right of conquest his?
Saul (to David).
True: thou hast won her.
She shall be thine. Yes, a king's word is past.
David.
O boundless blessing! What! shall she be mine,
For whom contending monarchs might renounce
Their slighted crowns?
[Sounds of Musical Instruments heard at a distance. Shouting and singing. A grand Procession. Chorus of Hebrew Women.]
Saul.
How's this? what sounds of joy
Salute my ears! What means this needless pomp?
This merry sound of tabret and of harp?
What mean these idle instruments of triumph?
These women, who in fair procession move
Making sweet melody?
Abner.
To pay due honour
To David are they come.
Saul (Aside).
A rival's praise
Is dicord to my ear! They might have spar'd
This idle pageantry; it wounds my soul!
[Martial Symphony; after which, Chorus of Women singing.]
Prepare! your festal rites prepare!
Let your triumphs rend the air!
Idol gods shall reign no more:
We the living Lord adore!
Let heathen hosts on human helps repose,
Since Israel's God has routed Israel's foes.
Let remotest nations know
Proud Goliath's overthrow.
Fall'n, Philistia, is thy trust,
Dagon mingles with the dust!
Who fears the Lord of Glory, need not fear
The brazen armour, or the lifted spear.
See, the routed squadrons fly!
Hark! their clamours rend the sky!
Blood and carnage stain the field!
See, the vanquish'd nations yield!
Dismay and terror fill the frighten'd land,
While conq'ring David routs the trembling band.
Lo! upon the tented field
Royal Saul has thousands kill'd!
Lo! upon the ensanguin'd plain
David has ten thousands slain!
Let mighty Saul his vanquish'd thousands tell,
While tenfold triumphs David's victories swell.
