Classic Poem

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 placed 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 liv'd
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 ingenuous graces of his youth.
Curs'd popularity! which makes a father
Defest the merit of a son he loves.
How did their fund 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 , A BNEU.

Ab. What meditation holds thee thus engag'd,
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.
Oh for that spirit which inflam'd my breast
With sudden fervour, when, among the seers
And holy sages my prophetic voice
Was heard attentive, and th' astonish'd throng.
Wond'ring, exclaim'd, — " Is Saul among the prophets? "
Where's that bold arm which quell'd th' Amalekite,
And nobly spar'd 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.
Ab. 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 charm. 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?
Ab. It is accepted.
Saul. Ha! by whom? how? when?
What prince, what gen'ral, what illustrious hero,
What vet'ran chief, what warrior of renown.
Will dare to meet the haughty foe's defiance?
Speak, my brave gen'ral! noble Abner, speak!
Ab. No prince, no warrior, no illustrious chief,
No vet'ran 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. O mockery!
No more of this light 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!
Ab. Is valour, then, peculiar to high birth?
If heav'n had so decreed, know, scornful king,
That Saul the Benjamite had never reign'd.
No I — 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?
Ab. Without thy tent he waits. Such humble sweetness,
Fir'd with the secret conscience of desert;
Such manly bearing, temper'd with such softness,
And so adorned with ev'ry outward charm
Of graceful form and feature, saw I never.
Saul. Bring me the youth.
Ab. He waits thy royal pleasure.
Saul. What must I think? Abner himself is brave,
And skill'd in human kind: nor does he judge
So tightly, to be caught by specious words
And fraud's smooth artifice, where 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.

Dav. Hail, mighty king!
Ab. Behold thy proffer'd champion!
Saul. Art thou the youth whose high heroic zeal
Aspire to meet the giant son of Anak?
Dav. 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 vet'ran hast thou serv'd?
What feats hast thou achiev'd, what daring deeds?
What well-ranged phalanx, say, what charging hosts,
What hard campaigns, what sieges hast thou seen?
Hast thou e'er sealed 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 buckier, is to thee unknown.
Dav. 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,
Th' embattled phalaux, 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 rev'rence 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
Assyrin's borders, to the distant Nile.
Dav. True, mighty king! I am indeed alike
Unbless'd by fortune, and to fame unknown;
A lowly shepherd-swain of Judah's tribe:
But greatness ever springs from low beginnings.
That very Nile thou mention'st, whose broad stream
Bears fruitfulness and health through many a clime,
From an unknown, penurious, scanty source
Took its first rise. The forest oak, which shades
Thy 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 wast once unknown
Till fair occasion brought thy worth to light.
Far higher views inspire my youthful heart
Than human praise: I seek to vindicate
Th' insulted honour of the God I serve.
Ab. '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.
Dav. Not so, O king!
This youthful arm has been imbrued in blood,
Though yet no blood of man 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 rushed upon the fold,
Seized a young lamb, and tore their bleating spoil.
Urg'd by compassion for my helpless charge,
I felt a new born vigour nerve, my arm;
And eager on the foaming monsters rushed.
The fanish'd lion by his grisly beard,
Enrug'd, I caught, and smote him to the ground.
The panting monster struggling in my gripe,
Shook terribly his bristling mane, and lashed
His own gaunt, gory sides; fiercely he ground
His ganshing 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 uncircumcis'd Philistine! No: that God
Who sav'd me from the bear's destructive fang.
And hungry lion's jaw, will not he save me
From this idointer?
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.
Ah. So the bold Nuzarite a lion slew:
An earnest of his victories o'er Philistin!
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 armoury take,
And gird upon his thigh my own tried sword,
Of noblest temper'd steel.
Ab. I shall obey.
Dav. Pardon, O king! the coat of plated mall
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!