 | CHAPTER I. Forest leaves |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
It was a bridal chamber, garnish'd forth
With gems, and gold, and purple, and rich wreaths,
Where silver lilies breath'd upon the breast
Of Sharon's velvet roses, and their sweets
Were mingling with the incense, that stole forth
From humbler blossoms, sweet as childhood's prayer.
Oh, what enchanting scenes
Of rich and varied beauty, lay outspread
Beneath the windows, where the crimson folds
Of the rich tapestry were drawn aside
By chains of wreathen gold. The lovely vales
With peaceful herds, and highly cultur'd fields,
The rich corn waving on the gentle slope,
The dark-leav'd graceful olive bending slow
In adoration, as the breezes pass'd,
Bearing its voice to heaven. The hill-side crown'd
With rich green vineyards, where a blessing dwelt;
The streamlets, lying on the mountain's breast,
Like chains of sparkling diamonds, falling low
Into earth's lap, the valley's, resting there
In glittering clusters, mid her robes of green.
The far off Libanus, with cedar plumes
Nodding in heaven's blue mirror, with the pride
Of a stanch warrior, while the smiling heaven
Look'd down, as if with pride, on such a scene
Of glowing beauty. The dim misty hills
Where every crevic'd rock was wreath'd with bloom
Inhabited, and stored with honey combs;
While from the sycamore that bow'd and smil'd
To its own image, in the mirror'd fount
Gush'd swells of trancing bird songs, floating soft
Upon the living breeze, which came by fits,
Coquetting with the heavy tapestry
Of that fair bridal chamber.
Can it be
That there are aching hearts, and tearful eyes,
In such a place, amid such glorious scenes?
Alas! for earthly grandeur, pomp, and power,
Magnificence and beauty. Seated there
Enfolded fondly in each other's arms,
Are Saul's two queenly daughters. Ne'er did eye
Rest on a brighter pair. So fair, so young,
So form'd of beauty, grace, and majesty.
The one a bride—deck'd out most gloriously
In regal splendour, while her dark clear eyes
Though overflowing, like a troubled spring,
Dwelt on her fair young sister with a look
Full of deep happiness, and joyful love,
As 'neath the ripples of the ruffled fount,
Lies the reflection of the brilliant heaven.
Sister, she whisper'd—since the hour has come
Which severs our communion, which has been
So perfect, and so sweet, wilt thou not now
Confide to me the sorrow, which of late
Has liv'd amongst thy roses, eating still
The crimson beauties, from thy down-cast face?
Sister! My only one! My heart has griev'd
To see how thine was aching, and mine eyes
Have wept to see the salt springs well from thine.
Nay, hide not thus thine eyes within my vest,
What should a pure young heart like thine, conceal?
Michal.
With gems, and gold, and purple, and rich wreaths,
Where silver lilies breath'd upon the breast
Of Sharon's velvet roses, and their sweets
Were mingling with the incense, that stole forth
From humbler blossoms, sweet as childhood's prayer.
Oh, what enchanting scenes
Of rich and varied beauty, lay outspread
Beneath the windows, where the crimson folds
Of the rich tapestry were drawn aside
By chains of wreathen gold. The lovely vales
With peaceful herds, and highly cultur'd fields,
The rich corn waving on the gentle slope,
The dark-leav'd graceful olive bending slow
In adoration, as the breezes pass'd,
Bearing its voice to heaven. The hill-side crown'd
With rich green vineyards, where a blessing dwelt;
The streamlets, lying on the mountain's breast,
Like chains of sparkling diamonds, falling low
Into earth's lap, the valley's, resting there
In glittering clusters, mid her robes of green.
The far off Libanus, with cedar plumes
Nodding in heaven's blue mirror, with the pride
Of a stanch warrior, while the smiling heaven
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Of glowing beauty. The dim misty hills
Where every crevic'd rock was wreath'd with bloom
Inhabited, and stored with honey combs;
While from the sycamore that bow'd and smil'd
To its own image, in the mirror'd fount
Gush'd swells of trancing bird songs, floating soft
Upon the living breeze, which came by fits,
Coquetting with the heavy tapestry
Of that fair bridal chamber.
Can it be
That there are aching hearts, and tearful eyes,
In such a place, amid such glorious scenes?
Alas! for earthly grandeur, pomp, and power,
Magnificence and beauty. Seated there
Enfolded fondly in each other's arms,
Are Saul's two queenly daughters. Ne'er did eye
Rest on a brighter pair. So fair, so young,
So form'd of beauty, grace, and majesty.
The one a bride—deck'd out most gloriously
In regal splendour, while her dark clear eyes
Though overflowing, like a troubled spring,
Dwelt on her fair young sister with a look
Full of deep happiness, and joyful love,
As 'neath the ripples of the ruffled fount,
Lies the reflection of the brilliant heaven.
Sister, she whisper'd—since the hour has come
Which severs our communion, which has been
So perfect, and so sweet, wilt thou not now
Confide to me the sorrow, which of late
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The crimson beauties, from thy down-cast face?
Sister! My only one! My heart has griev'd
To see how thine was aching, and mine eyes
Have wept to see the salt springs well from thine.
Nay, hide not thus thine eyes within my vest,
What should a pure young heart like thine, conceal?
Love, sister! I should hide it from myself—
From thee and Israel's God. I have not been
The artless innocent which thy fond love
Has deem'd me, in its doting. Could'st thou know
How I have envied thee, how I have long'd
To snatch the cup of blessing from thy lip,
Though its last smile went with it! Sister, dear!
Loose not thy fond embrace, 'tis over now,
And even then when I had felt to smile
Beside thine early death-bed, sure I am
That death has nothing keener than the pangs
That wrung and scorched my spirit.
Merab.
Lov'st thou Adriel?
Michal.
Sister! No.
If I lov'd him I would not now tell thee.
My heart is his to whom thou wast betroth'd,
E'er any knew to whom thy heart was given.
Merab.
Poor child! Thy lack of confidence in me
Has cost thee dear indeed. One little word
Had sav'd thee all thy pain and bitterness.
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Which only loves the great and beautiful;
But I prefer the violet to the rose,
And love Adriel better far than him.
Michal.
Better! As if there were degrees in love!
My passion is exclusive. I can see
No excellence—no love exciting worth
In any man but David. I am not
Temper'd as thou, who couldst have meekly stood
With one beside the altar, while thy heart
Was throbbing for another. No command,
Even from our royal father, ever shall
Force me to give my hand, without love in it.
Merab.
God wrought for me, my sister. While I bowed
With womanly submission to the will
Of him, whom God has made my sire and king,
I prayed with fervour for support from heaven.
And He in whom I trusted, brought about,
Without my aid, this happy change for me.
Look unto him, sweet sister.
Michal.
Merab! cease.
I cannot feel as thou dost. I will strive
With mortals like myself; and leave to God
The issue of the combat. I would wed
The man I love, if his heart was with mine,
Though earth and heaven forbade it. Thou said'st well,
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And eminently great. And what I love
I love to adoration. From that day
In which we went, with all the maiden train,
To hail our conquering father, when I saw
The youthful Bethlehemite, in shepherd garb,
Bearing in his fair hand the ghastly head
Of dread Goliath, dripping blood the while,—
Aye—from that day I loved him! Beautiful
He is, as aught that ever fancy dream'd,
And great he look'd even then, despite his dress,
And cheeks of maiden roses. When our band
Struck the full chorus, and ascrib'd to him
A tenfold honour, though our father's brow
Grew dark with fear and anger, my heart glow'd
With exultation, and I do believe
That he will reign, in our fall'n father's stead.
Nay, sister, wherefore tremble, and turn pale?
Has not the Seer pronounc'd our father's doom—
That God will rend the kingdom from his hand
And give it to another? In that day
When Saul's proud head bows down, and the crown falls
From his pale brow; amongst whose wavy curls
Shall its bright circlet glitter? I can see
Its light even now amid the shining locks
O'er David's forehead clustering.
Merab.
Oh, forbear!
What horrid visions of death, shame, and wo,
Do thy words conjure up. My spirit faints
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My noble father low amongst the dead,
Weltering in gore, from out his own high heart;
And my young brothers—beautiful and brave,
Ghastly, and cold beside him; while the foe
Shout forth their savage triumph.
Michal.
Yet that day
Will surely come, my sister. I have seen
A soul-benumbing vision. Even now
My eyes and brain are reeling, and my heart
Grows faint and cold, with its remember'd dread.
Merab.
Sister, what hast thou done?
Michal.
A deed from which
The sternest soul might shrink. But it was love,
Omnipotent and all-subduing love,
With its tormenting doubts, and demon fears,
That urged me to explore the dreadful depths
Of the forbidden future. So I went
To Endor, to the witch, who still eludes
Our father's vigilance, and with her spells
Enchants the living, and commands the dead.
The awe, with which I sought her, was increas'd
By her majestic presence; and her eye—
Oh, what a power was in it. I have seen
Hundreds of lovely women, and fair girls,
But she is strangely beautiful, beyond
Aught that my eyes have seen, or fancy seign'd.
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Disturb'd the world of spirits, and brought forth
Her own familiar genii, who unbarr'd
Futurity's dark gate, and bade me look
Upon her sacred treasures. I beheld
Sights that engrav'd themselves upon my soul
As drawn by living lightning. I grow sick,
I will not sketch the picture unto thee;
It is enough that I must agonize
With dire anticipation. But I saw
David enthron'd, and crown'd in august state,
Obey'd and honour'd; and I was his wife.
But, sister, the bright eyes that mine adore
Turn'd on me, full of scorn, and bitterness—
And I beheld no more.
Merab.
Oh Michal! Michal!
Thou hast sinn'd fearfully. Yet I will pray
That God will have compassion on thy youth;
And so avert the punishment, which else
Will darken all thy future, upon which
Thou hast profanely gazed. Nay, wave not thus
Thy beautiful proud head, and curl thy lip;
Be not offended at poor Merab now,
Nor let us longer mar with bitter words,
This day of bridal gladness. Hark, how sweet
The tones of David's harp blend with the breeze
That plays so freshly with thy rose-wreath'd curls.
My sister, be compos'd. I will require
A royal boon, on this my bridal morn;
The king, our father, will not say me nay,
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Upon the minstrel warrior. Oh! what sounds
Of spirit-soothing melody gush forth
As he unlocks the mystic spells, that sleep
Within the magic harp strings, while his voice
Richer and sweeter still, in rapturous hymns,
Like holy incense, mingling with the air
Floats gratefully to heaven. And David's eyes,
And voice, and heart, are heavenward. I am sure
He cannot worship woman, for his soul
Adores the God. He will but love his wife
As a rich gift from Him, and prize her love
Only as it is holy, and subdued,
To the pure law of heaven. Will such a love
Suffice a heart like thine? a glowing heart
On fire with passion? Much I fear that thou
Would'st claim the worship which his pious soul
Will ever pay to God.—The bridegroom comes,
Go thou to meet him, sister, while I strive
To chase these crimson joys, back, to the deep
And silent sanctuary of the heart,
Where none may read them.
| CHAPTER I. Forest leaves | |