Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DAVIDEIS, A SACRED POEM OF THE TROUBLES OF DAVID: BOOK 1, by ABRAHAM COWLEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DAVIDEIS, A SACRED POEM OF THE TROUBLES OF DAVID: BOOK 1, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I sing the man who judah's scepter bore
Last Line: And he shall bless himself that blesses thee.
Subject(s): David (d. 962 B.c.); Saul (11th Century B.c.)


I Sing the Man who Judah's Scepter bore,
In that right Hand which held the Crook before;
Who from best Poet, best of Kings did grow;
The two chief Gifts Heav'n could on Man bestow.
Much Danger first, much Toil did he sustain,
Whilst Saul and Hell crost his strong Fate in vain.
Nor did his Crown less painful Work afford,
Less exercise his Patience, or his Sword;
So long her Conqu'ror Fortune's spight pursu'd;
Till with unwearied Virtue he subdu'd
All homebred Malice, and all foreign Boasts;
Their Strength was Armies, his the Lord of Hosts.
Thou, who didst David's Royal Stem adorn,
And gav'st him Birth from whom thy self wast born.
Who didst in Triumph at Death's Court appear,
And slew'st him with thy Nails, thy Cross and Spear,
Whilst Hell's black Tyrant trembled to behold,
The glorious Light he forfeited of old;
Who Heav'n's glad Burden now, and justest Pride,
Sit'st high enthron'd next thy great Father's Side,
(Where hallowed Flames help to adorn that Head
Which once the blushing Thorns environed,
'Till Crimson Drops of precious Blood hung down
Like Rubies to enrich thine humble Crown.)
Ev'n thou my Breast with such blest Rage inspire,
As mov'd the tuneful Strings of David's Lyre;
Guide my bold Steps with thine old travelling flame,
In these untrodden Paths to Sacred Fame;
Lo, with pure Hands thy heav'nly Fires to take,
My well-chang'd Muse I a chaste Vestal make!
From Earth's vain Joys, and Love's soft Witchcraft free,
I consecrate my Magdalene to Thee!
Lo, this great Work, a Temple to thy Praise,
On polish'd Pillars of strong Verse I raise!
A Temple, where if thou vouchsafe to dwell,
It Solomon's, and Herod's shall excel.
Too long the Muses-Land hath Heathen been;
Their Gods too long were Dev'ils, and Virtues, Sin;
But Thou, Eternal Word, hast call'd forth me
Th' Apostle, to convert that World to thee;
T' unbind the Charms that in slight Fables lye,
And teach that Truth is truest Poesie.
The Malice now of jealous Saul grew less,
O'ercome by constant Virtue, and Success;
He grew at last more weary to command
New Dangers, than young David to withstand
Or conquer them; he fear'd his mast'ring Fate,
And envy'd him a King's unpowerful Hate.
Well did he know how Palms by' Oppression speed,
Victorious, and the Victor's sacred Meed!
The Burden lifts them higher. Well did he know,
How a tame Stream does wild and dangerous grow
By unjust Force; he now with wanton Play,
Kisses the smiling Banks, and glides away,
But his known Channel stopt, begins to rore,
And swell with Rage, and buffet the dull Shore.
His mutinous Waters hurry to the War,
And Troops of Waves come rolling from afar.
Then scorns he such weak Stops to his free Source,
And over-runs the neighb'ring Fields with violent Course.
This knew the Tyrant, and this useful Thought
His wounded Mind, to Health and Temper brought.
He old kind Vows to David did renew,
Swore Constancy, and meant his Oath for true.
A general Joy at this glad News appear'd,
For David all Men lov'd, and Saul they fear'd.
Angels and Men did Peace and David love,
But Hell did neither him, nor that approve;
From Man's Agreement fierce Alarms they take;
And Quiet here, does there new Business make.
Beneath the silent Chambers of the Earth,
Where the Sun's fruitful Beams give Metals Birth;
Where he the Growth of fatal Gold does see,
Gold which above more Influence has than he.
Beneath the Dens where unflectcht Tempests lye,
And Infant Winds their tender Voices try,
Beneath the mighty Ocean's wealthy Caves,
Beneath th' eternal Fountain of all Waves,
Where their vast Court the Mother-waters keep,
And undisturb'd by Moons in Silence sleep;
There is a Place, deep, wondrous deep below,
Which genuine Night and Horror does o'erflow;
No Bound controls th' unwearied Space, but Hell
Endless as those dire Pains that in it dwell.
Here no dear Glimpse of the Sun's lovely Face,
Strikes through the solid Darkness of the Place;
No dawning Morn does her kind Reds display;
One slight weak Beam would here he thought the Day.
No gentle Stars with their fair Gems of Light
Offend the tyr'anous and unquestion'd Night.
Here Lucifer the mighty Captive reigns;
Proud, 'midst his Woes, and Tyrant in his Chains.
Once General of a gilded Host of Sprights,
Like Hesper, leading forth the spangled Nights.
But down like Lightning, which him struck, he came,
And roar'd at his first Plunge into the Flame.
Myriads of Spirits fell wounded round him there;
With dropping Lights thick shone the singed Air.
Since when the dismal Solace of their Woe,
Had only been weak Mankind to undo;
Themselves at first against themselves they' excite,
(Their dearest Conquest, and most proud Delight)
And if those Mines of secret Treason fail,
With open Force Man's Virtue they assail;
Unable to corrupt, seek to destroy;
And where their Poisons miss, the Sword employ.
Thus sought the Tyrant Fiend young David's Fall;
And 'gainst him arm'd the pow'rful Rage of Saul.
He saw the Beauties of his Shape and Face,
His female Sweetness, and his manly Grace;
He saw the nobler Wonders of his Mind,
Great Gifts, which for great Works he knew design'd.
He saw (t' ashame the Strength of Man and Hell)
How by 's young Hands their Gathite Champion fell.
He saw the reverend Prophet boidly shed
The Royal Drops round his enlarged Head.
And well he knew what Legacy did place,
The sacred Scepter in blest Judah's Race,
From which th' Eternal Shilo was to spring;
A Knowledge which new Hells to Hell did bring!
And though no less he knew himself too weak
The smallest Link of strong-wrought Fate to break;
Yet would he rage, and struggle with the Chain;
Lov'd to rebel, though sure that 'twas in vain.
And now it broke his form'd Design, to find
The gentle Change of Saul's recov'ring Mind.
He trusted much in Saul, and rag'd, and griev'd
(The great Deceiver) to be himself deceiv'd.
Thrice did he knock his Iron Teeth, thrice howl,
And into Frowns his wrathful Forehead rowl.
His Eyes dart forth red Flames, which scare the Night,
And with worse Fires the trembling Ghosts affright.
A Troop of ghastly Fiends compass him round,
And greedily catch at his Lips' fear'd Sound.
Are we such Nothings then (said he) our Will
Crost by a Shepherd's Boy? And you yet still
Play with your idle Serpents here? Dares none
Attempt what becomes Furies? Are ye grown
Benumm'd with Fear, or Virtue's sprightless cold,
You, who were once (I'm sure) so brave and bold?
Oh my ill-chang'd Condition! oh my Fate!
Did I lose Heav'n for this?
With that, with his long Tail he lasht his Breast,
And horribly spoke out in Looks the rest.
The quaking Pow'rs of Night stood in Amaze,
And at each other first could only gaze.
A dreadful Silence fill'd the hollow Place,
Doubling the Native Terror of Hell's Face;
Rivers of flaming Brimstone, which before
So loudly rag'd, crept softly by the Shore;
No Hiss of Snakes, no Clank of Chains was known:
The Souls amidst their Tortures durst not groan.
Envy at last crawls forth from that dire Throng,
Of all, the direfull'st; her black Locks hung long,
Attir'd with curling Serpents; her pale Skin
Was almost dropt from the sharp Bones within,
And at her Breast stuck Vipers which did prey
Upon her panting Heart; both Night and Day
Sucking black Blood from thence, which to repair
Both Night and Day they left fresh Poisons there.
Her Garments were deep stain'd in human Gore,
And torn by her own Hands; in which she bore
A knotted Whip, and Bowl, that to the Brim
Did with green Gall, and Juice of Wormwood swim.
With which when she was drunk, she furious grew
And lash'd her self; thus from th' accursed Crew,
Envy, the worst of Fiends, her self presents,
Envy, good only when she' her self torments.
Spend not, great King, thy precious Rage (said she)
Upon so poor a Cause; shall Mighty We
The Glory of our Wrath to him afford?
Are we not Furies still? and you our Lord?
At thy dread Anger the fix'd World shall shake,
And frighted Nature her own Laws forsake.
Do thou but threat, loud Storms shall make Reply,
And Thunder eccho't to the trembling Sky;
Whilst raging Seas swell to so bold an height,
As shall the Fire's proud Element affright.
Th' old drudging Sun from his long-beaten Way,
Shall at thy Voice start, and misguide the Day.
The jocond Orbs shall break their measur'd Pace,
And stubborn Poles change their allotted Place.
Heav'n's gilded Troops shall flutter here and there,
Leaving their boasting Songs tun'd to a Sphere;
Nay their God too -- for fear he did, when we
Took noble Arms against his Tyranny;
So noble Arms, and in a Cause so great,
That Triumphs they deserve for their Defeat.
There was a Day! oh might I see't again
Though he had fiercer Flames to thrust us in!
And can such Pow'rs be by a Child withstood?
Will Slings, alas, or Pebles, do him good?
What th' untam'd Lion, whet with Hunger too,
And Giants could not, that my Word shall do:
I'll soon dissolve this Peace; were Saul's new Love
(But Saul we know) great as my Hate shall prove;
Before their Sun twice more be gone about,
I, and my faithful Snakes would drive it out.
By me Cain offer'd up his Brother's Gore,
A Sacrifice far worse than that before;
I saw him fling the Stone, as if he meant
At once his Murder and his Monument,
And laught to see (for 'twas a goodly Show)
The Earth by her first Tiller fatned so.
I drove proud Pharaoh to the parted Sea;
He, and his Host drank up cold Death by me;
By me rebellious Arms fierce Corah took,
And Moses (curse upon that Name!) forsook;
Hither (ye know) almost alive he came
Thro' the cleft Earth; ours was his Fun'ral Flame.
By me -- but I lose Time, methinks, and should
Perform new Acts, whilst I relate the old;
David's the next our Fury must enjoy;
'Tis not thy God himself shall save thee, Boy;
No, if he do, may the whole World have Peace;
May all ill Actions, all ill Fortune cease,
And banish'd from this potent Court below,
May I a ragged, contemn'd Virtue grow.
She spoke; all star'd at first, and made a Pause;
But strait the general Murmur of Applause
Ran thro' Death's Courts; she frown'd still, and begun
To envy at the Praise her self had won.
Great Belzebub starts from his burning Throne
T' embrace the Fiend; but she now furious grown
To act her Part, thrice bow'd, and thence she fled;
The Snakes all hiss'd, the Fiends all murmured.
It was the Time when silent Night began
T' enchain with Sleep the busie Spirits of Man;
And Saul himself, though in his troubled Breast
The Weight of Empire lay, took gentle Rest:
So did not Envy; but with haste arose;
And as through Israel's stately Towns she goes,
She frowns and shakes her Head; shine on (says she)
Ruins e're long shall your sole Mon'uments be.
The Silver Moon with Terror paler grew,
And neighb'ring Hermon sweated flow'ry Dew;
Swift Jordan started, and strait backward fled,
Hiding among thick Reeds, his aged Head;
Lo, at her Entrance Saul's strong Palace shook;
And nimbly there the reverend Shape she took
Of Father Benjamin; so long her Beard,
So large her Limbs, so grave her Looks appear'd.
Just like his Statue which bestrid Saul's Gate,
And seem'd to guard the Race it did create.
In this known Form she' approach'd the Tyrant's Side;
And thus her Words the sacred Form bely'd.
Arise, lost King of Isr'ael; canst thou lye
Dead in this Sleep, and yet thy last so nigh?
If King thou be'st, if Jesse's Race as yet
Sit not on Israel's Throne! and shall he sit?
Did ye for this from fruitful Egypt fly?
From the mild Brickhills' nobler Slavery?
For this did Seas your pow'rful Rod obey?
Did Wonders guide, and feed you on your Way?
Could ye not there great Pharaoh's Bondage bear,
You who can serve a Boy, and Minstrel here?
Forbid it God, if thou be'st just; this Shame
Cast not on Saul's, on mine, and Israel's Name.
Why was I else from Canaan's Famine led?
Happy, thrice happy had I there been dead,
E'er my full Loins discharg'd this num'rous Race,
This luckless Tribe, ev'n Crown'd to their Disgrace!
Ah Saul, thy Servant's Vassal must thou live?
Place to his Harp must thy dread Scepter give?
What wants he now but that? Can'st thou forget
(If thou be'st Man thou can'st not) how they met
The Youth with Songs? Alas, poor Monarch! you
Your thousand only, he ten thousand slew!
Him Isra'el loves, him neighb'ring Countries fear;
You but the Name, and empty Title bear;
And yet the Traitor lives, lives in thy Court;
The Court that must be his; where he shall sport
Himself with all thy Concubines, thy Gold,
Thy costly Robes, thy Crown; Wert thou not told
This by proud Samuel, when at Gilgal he
With bold false Threats from God affronted thee?
The Dotard ly'd; God said it not I know;
Not Baal or Moloch would have us'd thee so;
Was not the Choice his own? Did not thy Worth
Exact the Royal Lot, and call it forth?
Hast thou not since (my best and greatest Son)
To him, and to his per'ishing Nation done
Such lasting Ben'efits, as may justly claim
A Scepter as eternal as thy Fame?
Poor Prince, whom Madmen, Priests, and Boys invade!
By thine own Flesh thy ingrateful Son betray'd!
Unnat'ral Fool, who can thus cheated be
By Friendship's Name against a Crown and thee!
Betray not too thy self; take Courage, call
Thy 'enchanted Virtues forth, and be Whole Saul.
Lo, this great Cause makes thy dead Fathers rise,
Breaks the firm Seals of their clos'd Tombs and Eyes.
Nor can their jealous Ashes, whilst this Boy
Survives, the Priv'ilege of their Graves enjoy.
Rise quickly, Saul, and take that Rebel's Breath
Which troubles thus thy Life, and ev'n our Death.
Kill him, and thou 'rt secure; 'tis only He
That's boldly interpos'd 'twixt God and thee,
As Earth's low Globe robs the high Moon of Light;
When this Eclipse is past, thy Fate's all bright.
Trust me, dear Son, and credit what I tell;
I've seen thy Royal Stars, and know them well.
Hence Fears and dull Delays! Is not thy Breast
(Yes, Saul, it is) with noble Thoughts possest?
May they beget like Acts. With that she takes
One of her worst, her best-beloved Snakes;
Softly, dear Worm, soft and unseen (said she)
Into his Bosom steal, and in it be
My Vice-Roy. At that Word she took her Flight,
And her loose Shape dissolv'd into the Night.
Th' infected King leap'd from his Bed amaz'd,
Scarce knew himself at first, but round him gaz'd,
And started back at piec'd-up Shapes, which Fear
And his distracted Fancy painted there.
Terror froze up his Hair, and on his Face
Show'rs of cold Sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Then knocking with his angry Hands his Breast,
Earth with his Feet; he cries, Oh 'tis confest;
I've been a pious Fool, a Woman-King;
Wrong'd by a Seer, a Boy, every thing.
Eight hundred Years of Death is not so deep,
So unconcern'd as my lethargick Sleep.
My Patience ev'n a Sacrilege becomes,
Disturbs the Dead, and opes their sacred Tombs.
Ah Benjamin, kind Father! who for me
This cursed World endur'st again to see!
All thou hast said, great Vision, is so true,
That all which thou command'st, and more I'll do:
Kill him? yes, mighty Ghost, the Wretch shall die,
Though ev'ry Star in Heav'n should it deny;
Nor mock th' Assault of our just Wrath again,
Had he ten times his fam'd ten thousand slain.
Should that bold popular Madman, whose Design
Is to revenge his own Disgrace by mine;
Should my ingrateful Son oppose th' Intent,
Should mine own Heart grow scrup'ulous and relent;
Curse me just Heav'n (by which this Truth I swear)
If I that Seer, my Son, or self do spare.
No, gentle Ghost, return to thy still Home;
Thither this Day mine, and thy Foe shall come.
If that curst Object longer vex my Sight,
It must have learnt to 'appear as thou to Night.
Whilst thus his Wrath with Threats the Tyrant fed,
The threaten'd Youth slept fearless on his Bed;
Sleep on, Rest quiet as thy Conscience take,
For tho' thou sleep'st thy self, thy God's awake.
Above the subtle Foldings of the Sky,
Above the well-set Orbs' soft Harmony,
Above those petty Lamps that gild the Night,
There is a Place o'erflown with hallowed Light;
Where Heav'n, as if it left it self behind,
Is stretcht out far, nor its own Bounds can find:
Here peaceful Flames swell up the sacred Place,
Nor can the Glory contain it self in th' endless Space.
For there no Twilight of the Sun's dull Ray,
Glimmers upon the pure and native Day.
No pale-fac'd Moon does in stoln Beams appear,
Or with dim Taper scatters Darkness there.
On no smooth Sphear the restless Seasons slide,
No circling Motion doth swift Time divide;
Nothing is there To come, and nothing Past,
But an Eternal Now does always last.
There sits th' Almighty, First of all, and End;
Whom nothing but himself can comprehend.
Who with his Word commanded All to Be,
And All obey'd him, for that Word was He.
Only he spoke, and every thing that Is
From out the Womb of fertile Nothing rise.
Oh who shall tell, who shall describe thy Throne,
Thou Great Three-One?
There thou thy self do'st in full Presence show,
Not absent from these meaner Worlds below;
No, if thou wert, the Elements' League would cease,
And all thy Creatures break thy Nature's Peace;
The Sun would stop his Course, or gallop back,
The Stars drop out, the Poles themselves would crack:
Earth's strong Foundations would be torn in twain,
And this vast Work all ravel out again
To its first Nothing: For his Spirit contains
The well-knit Mass; from him each Creature gains
Being and Motion, which he still bestows;
From him th' Effect of our weak Action flows.
Round him vast Armies of swift Angels stand,
Which seven triumphant Generals command;
They sing loud Anthems of his endless Praise,
And with fix'd Eyes drink in Immortal Rays.
Of these he call'd out one; all Heav'n did shake,
And Silence kept whilst its Creator spake.
Are we forgotten then so soon? Can he
Look on his Crown, and not remember me
That gave it? Can he think we did not hear
(Fond Man!) his Threats? And have we made the Ear,
To be accounted deaf? No, Saul, we heard;
And it will cost thee dear; the Ills thou'st fear'd,
Practis'd, or thought on, I'll all double send;
Have we not spoke it, and dares Man contend!
Alas, poor Dust? didst thou but know the Day
When thou must lye in Blood at Gilboa,
Thou, and thy Sons, thou wouldst not threaten still,
Thy trembling Tongue would stop against thy Will.
Then shall thine Head fix'd in curs'd Temples be,
And all their foolish Gods shall laugh at thee.
That Hand which now on David's Life would prey,
Shall then turn just, and its own Master slay;
He whom thou hat'st, on thy lov'd Throne shall sit,
And expiate the Disgrace thou dost to it.
Haste then; tell David what his King has sworn,
Tell him whose Blood must paint this rising Morn.
Yet bid him go securely when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is his Foe, and we his Friends.
The Man who has his God no Aid can lack,
And we who bid him go, will bring him back.
He spoke; the Heav'ns seem'd decently to bow,
With all their bright Inhabitants; and now
The jocond Spheres began again to play,
Again each Spirit sung Halleluia.
Only that Angel was strait gone; ev'n so
(But not so swift) the Morning Glories flow
At once from the bright Sun, and strike the Ground;
So winged Lightning the soft Air does wound.
Slow Time admires, and knows not what to call
The Motion, having no Account so small.
So flew this Angel, 'till to David's Bed
He came, and thus his sacred Message said.
Awake, young Man, hear what thy King has sworn;
He swore thy Blood should paint this rising Morn.
Yet to him go securely when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is your Foe, and God your Friends.
The Man who has his God, no Aid can lack;
And he who bids thee go, will bring thee back.
Up leap'd Jessides, and did round him stare,
But could see nought; for nought was left but Air.
Whilst this great Vision labours in his Thought,
Lo, the short Prophecy t' effect is brought.
In treacherous Haste he's sent for to the King,
And with him bid his charmful Lyre to bring.
The King, they say, lyes in a raging Fit,
Which does no Cure but sacred Tunes admit;
And true it was, soft Musick did appease
Th' obscure fantastick Rage of Saul's Disease.
Tell me, oh Muse (for thou, or none canst tell
The mystick Pow'rs that in bless'd Numbers dwell,
Thou their great Nature know'st, nor is it fit
This noblest Gem of thine own Crown t' omit)
Tell me from whence these heav'nly Charms arise;
Teach the dull World t' admire what they despise.
As first a various unform'd Hint we find
Rise in some god-like Poet's fertile Mind,
'Till all the Parts and Words their Places take,
And with just Marches Verse and Musick make;
Such was God's Poem, this World's new Essay;
So wild and rude in its first Draught it lay;
Th' ungovern'd Parts no Correspondence knew,
An artless War from thwarting Motions grew;
'Till they to Number and fixt Rules were brought
By the eternal Mind's Poetick Thought.
Water and Air he for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base, the treble Flame arose;
To th' active Moon a quick brisk Stroke he gave,
To Saturn's String a Touch more soft and grave.
The Motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow,
And short, and long, were mix'd and woven so,
Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall,
As made this decent measur'd Dance of All.
And this is Musick; Sounds that charm our Ears,
Are but one Dressing that rich Science wears.
Tho' no Man hear't, tho' no Man it rehearse,
Yet will there still be Musick in my Verse.
In this great World so much of it we see;
The lesser, Man, is all o'er Harmony.
Storehouse of all Proportions! single Quire!
Which first God's Breath did tunefully inspire!
From hence bless'd Musick's heav'nly Charms arise,
From Sympathy which them and Man allies.
Thus they our Souls, thus they our Bodies win,
Not by their Force, but Party that's within.
Thus the strange Cure on our spilt Blood apply'd,
Sympathy to the distant Wound does guide.
Thus when two Brethren Strings are set alike,
To move them both, but one of them we strike.
Thus David's Lyre did Saul's wild Rage controul,
And tun'd the harsh Disorders of his Soul.

When Israel was from Bondage led,
Led by th' Almighty's Hand
From out a foreign Land,
The great Sea beheld, and fled.
As Men pursu'd, when that Fear past they find,
Stop on some higher Ground to look behind;
So whilst through wondrous Ways
The sacred Army went,
The Waves afar stood up to gaze,
And their own Rocks did represent,
Solid as Waters are above the Firmament.

Old Jordan's Waters to their Spring
Start back with sudden Fright;
The Spring amaz'd at Sight,
Asks what News from Sea they bring.
The Mountains shook; and to the Mountains' Side,
The little Hills leapt round themselves to hide;
As young affrighted Lambs
When they ought dreadful spy,
Run trembling to their helpless Dams;
The mighty Sea and River by,
Were glad for their Excuse to see the Hills to fly:

What ail'd the mighty Sea to flee?
Or why did Jordan's Tide
Back to his Fountain glide?
Jordan's Tide, what ailed thee?
Why leap'd the Hills? why did the Mountains shake?
What ail'd them their fix'd Natures to forsake?
Fly where thou wilt, O Sea!
And Jordan's Current cease;
Jordan there is no need of thee,
For at God's Word, whene'er he please,
The Rocks shall weep new Waters forth instead of these.
Thus sung the great Musician to his Lyre;
And Saul's black Rage grew softly to retire;
But Envy's Serpent still with him remain'd,
And the wise Charmer's healthful Voice disdain'd.
Th' unthankful King cur'd truly of his Fit,
Seems to lye drown'd and bury'd still in it.
From his past Madness draws this wicked Use,
To sin disguis'd, and murder with Excuse:
For whilst the fearless Youth his Cure pursues,
And the soft Medicine with kind Art renews:
The barb'rous Patient casts at him his Spear,
(The usual Scepter that rough Hand did bear)
Casts it with violent Strength, but into th' Room
An Arm more strong and sure than his was come;
An Angel whose unseen and easie Might
Put by the Weapon, and miss-led it right.
How vain Man's Pow'r is! unless God command,
The Weapon disobeys his Master's Hand!
Happy was now the Error of the Blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so.
One would have thought, Saul's sudden Rage t' have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been.
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his Honour now engag'd i' th' Sin.
A bloody Troop of his own Guards he sends
(Slaves to his Will, and falsly call'd his Friends)
To mend his Error by a surer Blow:
So Saul ordain'd, but God ordain'd not so.
Home flies the Prince, and to his trembling Wife
Relates the new-past Hazard of his Life,
Which she with decent Passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair Eyes she lov'd so well.
Upon their Palace Top beneath a Row
Of Lemon Trees, which there did proudly grow,
And with bright Stores of golden Fruit repay
The Light they drank from the Sun's neighb'ring Ray,
(A small, but artful Paradise) they walk'd;
And Hand in Hand sad gentle Things they talk'd.
Here Michol first an armed Troop espies
(So faithful and so quick are loving Eyes)
Which march'd, and often glister'd thro' a Wood,
That on right Hand of her fair Palace stood;
She saw them, and cry'd out, They're come to kill
My dearest Lord; Saul's Spear pursues thee still.
Behold his wicked Guards: Haste quickly, fly,
For Heav'n's sake haste; my dear Lord, do not die.
Ah cruel Father, whose ill-natur'd Rage
Neither thy Worth, nor Marriage can asswage!
Will he part those he join'd so late before?
Were the two hundred Foreskins worth no more?
He shall not part us; (Then she wept between)
At yonder Window thou may'st 'scape unseen;
This Hand shall let thee down; stay not, but haste;
'Tis not my Use to send thee hence so fast.
Best of all Women, he replies -- and this
Scarce spoke, she stops his Answer with a Kiss;
Throw not away (said she) thy precious Breath,
Thou stay'st too long within the Reach of Death.
Timely' he obeys her wise Advice, and streight
To unjust Force she' opposes just Deceit.
She meets the Murd'rers with a virtuous Lie,
And good dissembling Tears; May he not die
In quiet then? (said she) will they not give
That Freedom who so fear lest he should live?
Ev'n Fate does with your Cruelty conspire,
And spares your Guilt, yet does what you desire.
Must he not live? For that ye need not sin;
My much-wrong'd Husband speechless lyes within,
And has too little left of vital Breath
To know his Murderers, or to feel his Death.
One Hour will do your Work ----
Here her well-govern'd Tears dropp'd down apace:
Beauty and Sorrow mingled in one Face,
Has such resistless Charms, that they believe,
And an unwilling Aptness find to grieve
At what they came for; A pale Statue's Head
In Linnen wrapt, appear'd on David's Bed;
Two Servants mournful stand and silent by,
And on the Table Med'cinal Relicks Lye;
In the close Room a well-plac'd Taper's Light,
Adds a becoming Horror to the Sight,
And for th' Impression God prepar'd their Sense;
They saw, believ'd all this, and parted thence.
How vain Attempts Saul's unbless'd Anger tries,
By his own Hands deceiv'd, and Servants' Eyes!
It cannot be (said he) no, can it? Shall
Our great ten thousand Slayer idly fall?
The silly Rout thinks God protects him still;
But God, alas, guards not the bad from Ill.
Oh may he guard him! may his Members be
In as full Strength, and well-set Harmony,
As the fresh Body of the first made Man,
E'er Sin, or Sin's just Meed, Disease began.
He will be else too small for our vast Hate;
And we must share in our Revenge with Fate.
No; let us have him whole; we else may seem
To' have snatch'd away but some few Days from him,
And cut that Thread which would have dropt in two;
Will our great Anger learn to stoop so low?
I know it cannot, will not; him we prize
Of our just Wrath the solemn Sacrifice,
That must not blemish'd be; let him remain
Secure, and grow up to our Stroke again.
'Twill be some Pleasure then to take his Breath,
When he shall strive, and wrestle with his Death;
Go, let him live -- -- And yet ---- shall I then stay
So long? good and great Actions hate delay.
Some foolish Piety perhaps, or he
That has been still mine Honour's Enemy,
Samuel, may change or cross my just Intent,
And I this Formal Pity soon repent.
Besides, Fate gives him me, and whispers this,
That he can fly no more, if we should miss;
Miss! Can we miss again? Go, bring him strait,
Though gasping out his Soul; if the wish'd Date
Of his accursed Life be almost past,
Some Joy 'twill be to see him breath his last.
The Troop return'd, of their short Virtue asham'd,
Saul's Courage prais'd, and their own Weakness blam'd,
But when the pious Fraud they understood,
Scarce the Respect due to Saul's sacred Blood,
Due to the sacred Beauty in it reign'd,
From Michol's Murder their wild Rage restrain'd.
She 'alledg'd the holiest Chains that bind a Wife,
Duty and Love; she 'alledg'd that her own Life,
Had she refus'd that safety to her Lord,
Would have incurr'd just Danger from his Sword.
Now was Saul's Wrath full grown; he takes no Rest;
A violent Flame rolls in his troubled Breast,
And in fierce Lightning from his Eye does break;
Not his own Fav'orites, and best Friends dare speak,
Or look on him; but mute and trembling all,
Fear where this Cloud will burst, and Thunder fall.
So when the Pride and Terror of the Wood,
A Lion prick'd with Rage, and Want of Food,
Espies out from afar some well-fed Beast,
And brustles up, preparing for his Feast;
If that by Swiftness scape his gaping Jaws;
His bloody Eyes he hurls round, his sharp Paws
Tear up the Ground; then runs he wild about,
Lashing his angry Tail, and roaring out.
Beasts creep into their Dens, and tremble there;
Trees, though no Wind be stirring, shake with Fear;
Silence and Horror fill the Place around,
Eccho it self dares scarce repeat the Sound.
Midst a large Wood that joins fair Rama's Town
(The neighbourhood fair Rama's chief Renown)
A College stands; where, at great Prophets' Feet,
The Prophets' Sons with silent Dil'igence meet;
By Samuel built, and mod'rately endow'd,
Yet more to 'his lib'ral Tongue than Hands they ow'd.
There himself taught, and his blest Voice to hear,
Teachers themselves lay proud beneath him there.
The House was a large Square; but plain and low;
Wise Nature's use Art strove not to out-go.
An inward Square by well-rang'd Trees was made;
And midst the friendly Cover of their Shade,
A pure, well-tasted, wholsome Fountain rose;
Which no vain Cost of Marble did enclose;
Nor through carv'd Shapes did the forc'd Waters pass,
Shapes gazing on themselves i' th liquid Glass.
Yet the chaste Stream that 'mong loose Pebbles fell
For Cleanness, Thirst, Religion serv'd as well.
The Scholars, Doctors and Companions here,
Lodg'd all apart in neat small Chambers were:
Well-furnish'd Chambers; for in each there stood,
A narrow Couch, Table and Chair of Wood;
More is but Clog where Use does bound Delight;
And those are Rich whose Wealth's proportion'd right
To their Life's Form; more Goods would but become
A Burden to them, and contract their Room.
A second Court more Sacred stood behind,
Built fairer, and to nobler Use design'd:
The Hall and Schools one Side of it possest;
The Library and Synagogue the rest.
Tables of plain-cut Firre adorn'd the Hall;
And with Beasts' Skins the Beds were cover'd all.
The reverend Doctors take their Seats on high,
Th'Elect Companions in their Bosoms lye.
The Scholars far below upon the Ground,
On fresh-strew'd Rushes place themselves around.
With more respect the Wise and Ancient lay;
But eat not choicer Herbs or Bread than they,
Nor purer Waters drank, their constant Feast;
But by great Days, and Sacrifice encreas'd.
The Schools built round and higher, at the End
With their fair Circle did this Side extend;
To which their Synagogue on th' other Side,
And to the Hall their Library replide.
The midst tow'rds their large Gardens open lay,
To 'admit the Joys of Spring and early Day.
I' th' Library a few choice Authors stood;
Yet 'twas well-stor'd, for that small Store was good;
Writing, Man's Spir'itual Physick was not then
It self, as now, grown a Disease of Men.
Learning (young Virgin) but few Suitors knew;
The common Prostitute she lately grew,
And with her spurious Brood loads now the Press;
Laborious Effects of Idleness!
Here all the various Forms one might behold
How Letters sav'd themselves from Death of old;
Some painfully engrav'd in thin-wrought Plates,
Some cut in Wood, some lightlier trac'd on Slates;
Some drawn on fair Palm Leaves, with short-liv'd Toil,
Had not their Friend the Cedar lent his Oil.
Some wrought in Silks, some writ in tender Barks;
Some the sharp Stile in waxen Tables marks;
Some in Beasts' Skins, and some in Biblos Reed;
Both new rude Arts, which Age and Growth did need.
The Schools were painted well with useful Skill;
Stars, Maps, and Stories the learn'd Wall did fill.
Wise wholesome Proverbs mix'd around the Room,
Some writ, and in Egyptian Figures some.
Here all the noblest Wits of Men inspir'd,
From Earth's slight Joys, and worthless Toils retir'd,
Whom Samuel's Fame and Bounty thither lead,
Each Day by turns their solid Knowledge read.
The Course and Power of Stars great Nathan taugt,
And home to Man those distant Wonders brought,
How toward both Poles the Sun's fix'd Journey bends,
And how the Year his crooked Walk attends.
By what just Steps the wandring Lights advance,
And what just Steps the wandring Lights advance,
And what eternal Measures guide their Dance.
Himself a Prophet; but his Lectures shew'd
How little of that Art to them he ow'd.
Mahol th' inferior World's fantastick Face,
Though all the turns of Matter's Maze did trace;
Great Nature's well-set Clock in pieces took;
On all the Springs and smallest Wheels, did look,
Of Life and Motion; and with equal Art
Made up again the Whole of ev'ry Part.
The Prophet Gad in learned Dust designs
Th' immortal solid Rules of fancy'd Lines.
Of Numbers too th' unnumbred Wealth he shows,
And with them far their endless Journey goes.
Numbers which still encrease more high and wide,
From One, the Root of their turn'd Pyramide.
Of Men, and Ages past Seraiah read;
Embalm'd in long-liv'd History the Dead.
Show'd the steep Falls, and slow Ascent of States;
What Wisdom and what Follies make their Fates.
Samuel himself did God's rich Law display;
Taught doubting Men with Judgment to obey.
And oft his ravish'd Soul with sudden flight
Soar'd above present Times, and human Sight.
These Arts but welcome Strangers might appear,
Musick and Verse seem'd born and bred up here;
Scarce the blest Heav'n that rings with Angel's Voice,
Does with more constant Harmony rejoice.
The sacred Muse does here each Breast inspire;
Heman, and sweet-mouth'd Asaph rule their Quire:
Both charming Poets, and all Strains they plaid,
By artful Breath, or nimble Fingers made.
The Synagogue was dress'd with Care and Cost,
(The only Place where that they' esteem'd not lost)
The glittering Roof with Gold did daze the View,
The Sides refresh'd with Silks of sacred Blue.
Here thrice each Day they read their perfect Law,
Thrice Pray'rs from willing Heav'n a Blessing draw;
Thrice in glad Hymns swell'd with the Great One's Praise,
The pliant Voice on her sevn'en Steps they raise,
Whilst all th' enlivened Instruments around
To the just Feet with various Concord sound;
Such things were Muses then, contemn'd low Earth;
Decently proud, and mindful of their Birth.
'Twas God himself that here tun'd every Tongue;
And gratefully of him alone they sung.
They sung how God spoke out the World's vast Ball
From Nothing, and from No where call'd forth All.
No Nature yet, or Place for't to possess,
But an unbottom'd Gulf of Emptiness.
Full of Himself, th' Almighty sate, his own
Palace, and without Solitude, alone.
But he was Goodness whole, and all things will'd;
Which e'er they were, his active Word fulfill'd;
And their astonish'd Heads o' th' sudden rear'd;
An unshap'd kind of Something first appear'd,
Confessing its new Being, and undrest
As if it stept in haste before the rest;
Yet buried in this Matter's darksome Womb,
Lay the rich Seeds of ev'ry thing to come.
From hence the chearful Flame leap'd up so high;
Close at its Heels the nimble Air did fly;
Dull Earth with it's own Weight did downwards pierce
To the fix'd Navel of the Universe,
And was quite lost in Waters: 'Till God said
To the proud Sea, shrink in your ins'olent Head,
See how the gaping Earth has made you place;
That durst not murmur, but shrunk in apace.
Since when his Bounds are set, at which in vain
He foams, and rages, and turns back again.
With richer Stuff he bad Heav'n's Fabrick shine,
And from him a quick Spring of Light Divine
Swell'd up the Sun, from whence his cher'ishing Flame
Fills the whole World, like him from whom it came.
He smooth'd the rough-cast Moon's imperfect Mold,
And comb'd her beamy Locks with sacred Gold;
Be thou (said he) Queen of the mournful Night,
And as he spoke, she 'arose clad o'er in Light,
With thousand Stars attending on her Train;
With her they rise, with her they set again.
Then Herbs peep'd forth, new Trees admiring stood,
And smelling Flow'ers painted the infant Wood.
Then Flocks of Birds through the glad Air did flee,
Joyful, and safe before Man's Luxury,
Teaching their Maker in their untaught Lays:
Nay, the mute Fish witness no less his Praise,
For those he made, and cloath'd with Silver Scales;
From Minoes to those living Islands, Whales.
Beasts too were his Command; what could he more?
Yes, Man he could, the Bond of all before;
In him he all things with strange Order hurl'd;
In him, that full Abridgment of the World.
This, and much more of God's great Works they told;
His Mercies, and some Judgments too of old:
How when all Earth was deeply stain'd in Sin;
With an impetuous Noise the Waves came rushing in.
Where Birds e'er while dwelt, and securely sung;
There Fish (an unknown Net) entangled hung.
The Face of shipwrack'd Nature naked lay;
The Sun peep'd forth, and beheld nought but Sea.
This Men forgot, and burnt in Lust again;
'Till Show'rs, strange as their Sin, of fiery Rain,
And scalding Brimstone, drop'd on Sodom's Head;
Alive they felt those Flames they fry in, Dead.
No better End rash Pharaoh's Pride befel,
When Wind and Sea wag'd War for Israel.
In his gilt Chariots amaz'd Fishes sate,
And grew with Corps of wretched Princes, fat.
The Waves and Rocks half-eaten Bodies stain;
Nor was it since call'd the Red-Sea in vain.
Much too they told of faithful Abram's Fame,
To whose blest Passage they owe still their Name:
Of Moses much, and the great Seed of Nun;
What Wonders they perform'd, what Lands they won;
How many Kings they slew, or Captive brought;
They held the Swords, but God and Angels fought.
Thus gain'd they the wise spending of their Days;
And their whole Life was their dear Maker's Praise.
No Minute's Rest, no swiftest Thought they sold
To that beloved Plague of Mankind, Gold.
Gold, for which all Mankind with greater Pains
Labour towards Hell, than those who dig its Veins.
Their Wealth was the Contempt of it; which more
They valu'd, than rich Fools the shining Ore.
The Silk-worm's precious Death they scorn'd to wear,
And Tyrian Dye appear'd but sordid there.
Honour, which since the Price of Souls became,
Seem'd to these great ones a low idle Name.
Instead of Down, hard Beds they chose to have,
Such as might bid them not forget their Grave.
Their Board dispeopled no full Element,
Free Nature's Bounty thriftily they spent,
And spar'd the Stock; nor could their Bodies say,
We owe this Crudeness t'Excess Yesterday.
Thus Souls live cleanly, and no Soiling fear
But entertain their welcome Maker there.
The Senses perform nimbly what they're bid,
And honestly, nor are by Reason chid.
And when the Down of Sleep does softly fall,
Their Dreams are heav'nly then, and mystical.
With hasty Wings Time present they out-fly,
And tread the doubtful Maze of Destiny.
There walk and sport among the Years to come,
And with quick Eye pierce ev'ry Cause's Womb.
Thus these wise Saints enjoy'd their Little All;
Free from the Spight of much-mistaken Saul:
For if Man's Life we in just Ballance weigh,
David deserv'd his Envy less than they.
Of this Retreat the hunted Prince makes choice,
Adds to their Quire his nobler Lyre and Voice.
But long unknown even here he could not lye;
So bright his Lustre, so quck Envy's Eye!
Th' offended Troop, whom he escap'd before,
Pursue him here, and fear Mistakes no more;
Belov'd Revenge fresh Rage to them affords;
Some Part of him all promise to their Swords.
They came, but a new Spirit their Hearts possess'd,
Scatt'ring a sacred Calm through ev'ry Breast:
The Furrows of their Brow, so rough e'er while,
Sink down into the Dimples of a Smile.
Their cooler Veins swell with a peaceful Tide,
And the chaste Streams with even Current glide;
A sudden Day breaks gently through their Eyes,
And Morning-blushes in their Cheeks arise.
The Thoughts of War, of Blood, and Murther cease;
In peaceful Tunes they adore the God of Peace.
New Messengers twice more the Tyrant sent,
And was twice more mock'd with the same Event.
His heightned Rage no longer brooks Delay;
It sends him there himself; but on the Way
His foolish Anger a wise Fury grew,
And Blessings from his Mouth unbidden flew.
His kingly Robes he laid at Naioth down,
Began to understand and scorn his Crown;
Employ'd his mounting Thoughts on nobler things;
And felt more solid Joys than Empire brings.
Embrac'd his wondring Son, and on his Head,
The Balm of all past Wounds, kind Tears he shed.
So cov'etous Balam with a fond Intent
Of cursing the blest Seed, to Moab went.
But as he went his fatal Tongue to sell;
His Ass taught him to speak, God to speak well.
How comely are thy Tents, oh Israel!
(Thus he began) what Conquests they foretel!
Less fair are Orchards in their Autumn Pride,
Adorn'd with Trees on some fair River's Side.
Less fair are Valleys, their green Mantles spread!
Or Mountains with tall Cedars on their Head!
'Twas God himself (thy God who must not fear?)
Brought thee from Bondage to be Master here.
Slaughter shall wear out these; new Weapons get;
And Death in triumph on thy Darts shall sit.
When Judah's Lion starts up to his Prey,
The Beasts shall hang their Ears, and creep away.
When he lyes down, the Woods shall Silence keep,
And dreadful Tygers tremble at his Sleep.
Thy Cursers, Jacob, shall twice cursed be;
And he shall bless himself that blesses thee.





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