Classic Poem

Mourn, wretched Israel , mourn thy Monarch's fall,
And all thy plenteous stock of sorrow call,
T'attend his pompous Funeral:
Mourn each, who in this loss an int'rest shares,
Lavish your Grief, exhaust it all in Tears:
You Hebrew Virgins too,
Who once in lofty strains did his glad Triumphs sing,
Bring all your artful Notes, and skilful Measures now,
Each charming air of Breath and string,
Bring all to grace the Obsequies of your dead King,
And high, as then your Joy, let now your Sorrow flow.
Saul , your great Saul is dead,
Who you with Natures choicest Dainties fed,
Who you with Natures gayest Wardrobe clad,
By whom you all her Pride, and all her Pleasures had:
For you the precious Worm his Bowels spun,
For you the Tyrian Fish did Purple run,
For you the blest Arabia 's Spices grew,
And Eastern Quarries harden'd Pearly dew;
The Sun himself turn'd Labourer for you:
For you he hatch'd his golden Births alone,
Wherewith you were array'd, whereby you him out-shone,
All this and more you did to Saul's great Conduct owe,
All this you lost in his unhappy overthrow.