University of Virginia Library

3. PART III.

SCENE, Saul's Tent.
SAUL.
Why was I made a king? what I have gain'd
In envy'd greatness and uneasy pow'r,
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 liv'd
Among the humble tents of Benjamin.
A shepherd's occupation was my joy,
And ev'ry 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 wou'd 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 cou'd conceive
Of amiable and good—Of that no more!
He is too popular; the people doat
Upon th' ingenuous 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 sentenc'd 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 shou'd 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.
O for a champion bold enough to face
This giant-boaster, whose repeated threats
Strike thro' my inmost soul! There was a time—
Of that no more!—I am not what I was.
Shou'd valiant Jonathan accept the challenge,
Twou'd but increase his favour with the people,
And make the crown sit loosely on my brow.
Ill cou'd my wounded spirit brook the voice
Of harsh comparison 'twixt sire and son.

SAUL, ABNER.
ABNER.
What meditation holds thee thus engag'd,
O king! and keeps thine active spirit bound,
When busy war far others 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 inflam'd my breast
With sudden fervor, 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.

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 charm. What news
Can sooth 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 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!

ABNER.
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 doat
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 Heav'n 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 false, chimerical distinctions
Vain human customs make.

SAUL.
Where is this youth?

ABNER.
Without thy tent he waits. Such humble sweetness,
Fir'd with the secret conscience of desert;
Such manly bearing, tempered 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 human kind: nor does he judge
So lightly, to be caught by specious words,
And fraud's smooth artifice, without the marks
Of worth intrinsic. But behold he comes!
The youth too with him! Justly did he praise
The candor 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 didst thou learn the dreadful trade of war?
Beneath what hoary vet'ran hast thou serv'd?
What seats atchiev'd, what deeds of bold emprize?
What well-rang'd phalanx, and what charging hosts,
What hard campaigns, what sieges hast thou seen?
Hast thou e'er scal'd the city's rampir'd 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 never seen. I nothing know
Of war's proud discipline. The trumpet's clang,
The shock of charging hosts, the rampir'd wall,
Th' embattled phalanx, and the warrior spear,
The use of targe and helm to me is new.
My zeal for God, my patriot love of Israel,
And reverence for my king, these are 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 Judah's tribe.
But greatness ever springs from low beginnings.
That very Nile thou mention'st, whose broad stream
Bears fruitfulness and health thro' 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 ought atchieve
Of glorious. Thou thyself wast once unknown,
'Till fair occasion brought thy worth to light.
Sublimer views inspire my youthful heart,
Than human praise: I seek to vindicate
Th' insulted honour of the God thou serv'st.

ABNER.
'Tis nobly said.

SAUL.
I love thy spirit, youth!
But dare not trust thy inexperienc'd arm
Against a giant's might. The sight of blood,
Tho' brave thou feel'st when peril is not nigh,
Will pale thy ardent cheek.

DAVID.
Not so, O king!
This youthful arm has been imbru'd in blood,
Tho' 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 rush'd upon the fold,
Seiz'd 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 rush'd.
The famish'd lion by his griesly beard,
Enrag'd, 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, goary 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, dy'd.
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
Th' 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 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 try'd 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 wou'd not shield,
'Twou'd 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!