 | Saul |  |
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE THE FIRST.
Saul, Abner.Sa.
This dawn how splendid! Th'universal sun
Arises not wrapt in a bloody shrowd;
He seems to promise a propitious day.—
Oh, my past years! where now are ye all fled?
Saul never from his martial bed, till now,
Rose in the camp, without the certain trust
That, ere at eve his pillow he resumed,
He should be victor.
Ab.
Wherefore now, oh king,
Dost thou despair? Hast thou not heretofore
Routed the squadrons of Philistia's host?
Abner assures thee, that, as to this fight,
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From its result unprecedented fame.
Sa.
Oh, Abner, with what different eyes do youth
And hoary age contemplate the events
Of human life. When with a well-knit arm
I grasp'd this ponderous and gnarled spear,
Which now I scarcely sway, I ill conceived
The possibility of self-mistrust ...
But I have now not only lost my youth ...
Ah! were th'invincible right-hand of God
E'en yet with me! ... or were with me at least
David, my champion! ...
Ab.
What then are we?
Perhaps without him we no longer conquer?
If I thought that, I never would unsheathe
My sword again, except to pierce my heart.
David, who is the first and only cause
Of all thy misadventures ...
Sa.
Thou'rt deceived.—
All my calamities may be referr'd
To a more terrible cause ... And what? Would'st thou
Conceal from me the horror of my state?
Ah! were I not a father, as I am,
Alas! too certainly, of much-loved children, ...
Would I have now life, victory, or the throne? ...
I should already, and a long time since,
Headlong have cast myself 'mid hostile swords:
I should already, thus at least, at once
Have closed the horrible life that I drag on.
How many years have now past, since a smile
Was seen to play upon my lips? My children,
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For the most part inflame my heart to rage ...
Impatient, fierce, incensed, and turbulent,
I am a burthen to myself and others;
In peace I wish for war, in war for peace:
Poison conceal'd I drink in every cup,
In every friend I see an enemy;
The softest carpets of Assyria seem
Planted with thorns to my unsolaced limbs;
My transient sleep is agonized with fear;
Each dream with imaged terrors that distract me.
Why should I add to this dark catalogue?
Who would believe it? The sonorous trumpet
Speaks to my ears in an appalling voice;
And fills the heart of Saul with deep dismay.
Thou seest clearly that Saul's tottering house
Is desolate, bereft of all its splendour;
Thou seest that God hath cast me off for ever.
And thou thyself (too well thou know'st the truth)
Dost sometimes, as thou art, appear to me
My kinsman, champion, and my real friend,
The leader of my armies, the support
Of my renown; and sometimes dost appear
The interested minion of a court,
Hostile, invidious, crafty, and a traitor.
Ab.
Now, Saul, that thou hast thus regain'd thy reason,
Do thou, I pray thee, to thy mind recall
Each past transaction! Art thou not aware
That all the wounds of thy afflicted heart
From Rama spring; yea, from the dwelling spring
Of Rama's many prophets. Who to thee
First dared to say, that God had cast thee off?
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Th'ambitious, doting priest, whose palsying words
His scycophantic worshippers repeat.
The royal wreath, which he thought his, he saw
With jealous eyes glittering upon thy brows.
Already he accounted it entwined
Around his hoary locks; when lo! the voice,
Th'unanimous, acclamatory voice,
Of Israel's people, to the wind dispersed
His wishes, and a warrior king preferred.
This is thy crime, this only. Hence, when thou
Ceasedst to be subordinate to him,
He ceased to call thee the elect of God.
This, this alone at first disturb'd thy reason;
And David's hierophantic eloquence
The injury completed. He in arms
Was valiant, I deny it not; but still
He was implicitly the tool of Samuel,
And fitter for the altar than the camp:
In arm a warrior, but in heart a priest.
Of every adventitious ornament
Be truth divested; thou dost know the truth.
I from thy blood am sprung; what constitutes
Thy glory, constitutes my glory too:
But David, no, can never raise himself,
If first he tread not Saul beneath his feet.
Sa.
David? ... I hate him ... But yet I to him
Have yielded as a consort my own daughter ...
Ah! thou canst never know.—That self-same voice,
Imperative and visionary voice,
Which as a youth my nightly slumbers broke,
When I in privacy obscurely lived
Far from the throne, and all aspiring thoughts,
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In menacing, denunciatory tones;
Like the deep murmur of the stormy waves,
Thundering repulsively, to me it cried,—
“Depart, depart, oh Saul.” ... The sacred aspect,
The venerable aspect of the prophet,
Which I had seen in dreams before he had
Made manifest that God had chosen me
For Israel's king, that Samuel, in a dream,
Now with far different aspect I behold.
I, from a hollow, deep, and horrible vale,
Behold him sitting on a radiant mount:
David is humbly prostrate at his feet:
The holy prophet on his forehead pours
The consecrated oil: with th'other hand
Stretch'd to my head, a hundred cubits length,
He snatches from my brow the royal crown,
And would replace it on the brow of David:
But, would'st thou think it? David prostrate falls,
With piteous gesture, at the prophet's feet,
Refusing to receive it; and he weeps,
And cries, and intercedes so fervently,
That he refits it on my head at last ...
—Oh spectacle!—Oh David, generous David!
Then thou art yet obedient to thy king?
My son? my faithful subject? and my friend? ...
Distraction! ... Would'st thou take from me my crown?
Thou, who dared'st do it, insolent old man,
Tremble ... Who art thou? ... Let him die at once
Who e'en conceived the thought.—Alas, alas!
I rave like one distracted! ...
Ab.
Let him die;
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Dreams, terrors, omens, and distresses.
SCENE THE SECOND.
Jonathan, Michal, Saul, Abner.Jon.
Peace
Be with my king.
Mi.
And God be with my father.
Sa.
Grief always is with me.—I rose to-day
Before my custom'd hour, in joyful hope ...
But, like a vapour of the desert, hope
Hath disappear'd already.—Oh my son,
What boots it now the battle to defer?
To dread defeat is worse than to endure it.
And let us once endure it:—Let us fight
To-day; I will it.
Jon.
We to-day shall conquer.
Father, resume thy hopes: hope never shone
With more authentic brightness on thy prospects.
Ah, recompose thy looks! my heart is big
With presages of victory. All this plain
Shall with the bodies of our foes be cover'd;
And to the ravenous vultures will we leave
A horrid banquet ...
Mi.
To a calmer spot
Within thy palace we will soon repair,
Oh father. There, amid thy palms enthroned,
Joyful thyself, thou, by restoring to her
Her much-loved husband, wilt restore to life
Thy desolate daughter ...
Sa.
... Evermore in tears? ...
Are these, indeed, the pleasing objects doom'd
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Art thou a solace thus to my just grief?
Daughter of tears, depart; go; leave me; vanish.
Mi.
Alas! ... Thou would'st not, father, that I wept? ...
Father, and who in everlasting tears
Now keeps me, if not thou?
Jon.
Refrain; would'st thou
Be irksome to thy father?—Saul, take comfort:
A minister of war and victory
Stands in the camp; a spirit of salvation,
With dawning light descended from the skies,
Which o'er all Israel's host will spread to-day
His brooding wings. A certainty of conquest,
E'en to thy heart, will quickly circulate.
Sa.
Now, perhaps, thou would'st that I should take a part
In thy weak transports? I?—What victory?
What spirit comes? ... Let us all weep. To-day
That venerable oak, torn up, will shew
Its squalid roots, where heretofore it spread
Its stately branches to the gales of Heaven.
All, all is weeping, tempest, blood, and death.
Rend, rend your garments; scatter on your hair
Polluting dust. Yes, this day is the last;
To us the final day.
Ab.
Oft have I said it:
Your importuning presence evermore
Redoubles his fierce pangs.
Mi.
And what? Must we
Leave our beloved father?
Jon.
At his side
Presumest thou alone to stand? Dost thou
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Sa.
What, what is this?
Rage sits upon the faces of my sons.
Who, who has wrong'd them? Abner, thou perchance?
These are my blood; dost not know that? ... Remember ...
Jon.
Ah yes! we are thy blood; and for thy sake
Hold ourselves ready all our blood to shed ...
Mi.
When at thy hands my consort I require,
Am I by selfish love alone impell'd?
I ask of thee the champion of thy people,
The terror of Philistia, thy defender.
In thy disconsolate fantastic hours,
And in thy fatal presages of death,
Ah! did not David sometimes solace thee
With his celestial music? Was not he
A beam of joy to thy benighted soul?
Jon.
And I, thou knowest if I wear a sword.
But what boots that, if the resounding steps
Of Israel's warrior to my steps give not
The law supreme? Should we of fighting speak
Were David here? We had already conquer'd.
Sa.
Oh times long past! ... Oh my illustrious days
Of joyful victory! ... Lo! they throng before me—
Triumphant images of past success.
I from the camp return, with bloody sweat
All cover'd, and with honourable dust.
And praises to the Lord ... I praise the Lord!
The ears of God are deafen'd to my voice;
Mute is my lip ... Where is my glory, where?
Where is the blood of my slain enemies?
Jon.
Thou would'st have all in David ...
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But with thee
David is not, oh no: to banishment
Thou drov'st him from thy presence, sought'st his death ...
David, thy son, thy noblest ornament,
Modest and docile; more than lightning swift
To obey thee; and in loving thee more warm
Than thy own children. Father, ah! desist ...
Sa.
Tears from my eyes are gushing! Who hath thus
Forced me to unaccustom'd tenderness? ...
Compel me not to weep.
Ab.
I counsel thee,
Oh king, withdraw from hence to thy pavilion.
Thy marshall'd forces, ready for the combat,
Ere long I will display to thee.—Now come;
And be convinced that nothing is in David ...
SCENE THE THIRD.
David, Saul, Abner, Jonathan, Michal.Da.
... Except his innocence.
Sa.
What do I see?
Mi.
Oh heaven!
Jon.
What hast thou done?
Ab.
Audacious ...
Jon.
Father ...
Mi.
Father, he is my spouse; to me thou gav'st him.
Sa.
Oh what a sight is this!
Da.
Oh Saul, my king;
Thou dost demand this head; for a long time
Already hast thou sought it; here it is;
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Sa.
What do I hear?
Oh David ... David! God doth speak in thee.
A God to-day hither hath brought thee to me ...
Da.
Yes, monarch; he who is the God alone;
He who in Ela prompted me to meet,
Although a stripling and yet inexpert,
The menacing colossal arrogance
Of fierce Goliah, clad in complete mail:
That God who thence on thy tremendous arms
Heap'd victory on victory; and who,
In his designs always inscrutable,
Chose, as an instrument, my obscure hand
For signal exploits: hither now that God
Doth usher me to thee with victory,
Now as thou likest best, a simple warrior,
Or leader of thy bands, if I deserve
Such a distinction, take me. On the earth
First let thy foes be strewn: by the keen breath
Of northern blasts be all the clouds dispersed
That gather round thy intercepted throne:
Then shalt thou afterwards with death reward me.
Nor one faint struggle, nor a single thought,
Should my death cost thee. Thou, oh king, shalt say,
“Be David slain;” and Abner instantly
Shall slay me.—I will grasp nor sword nor shield;
Within the palace of my absolute lord
All weapons misbecome me except patience,
Humility, and prayers, and passive love,
And innocence. I ought, if God so will,
Die as thy son, not as thy enemy.
Thus was the son of the first ancestor
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On the great mount, his sacrificial blood;
Nor did a gesture or a word escape
Belying perfect passiveness in him:
Already had his father raised one hand
To slay him, while he fondly kiss'd the other.—
Saul gave my life; Saul takes that life away:
Through him I gain'd renown; through him I lose it:
He made me great, and now he makes me nothing.
Sa.
Oh, what a thick mist from my aged eyes
Those words disperse! What voice sounds in my heart?
David, thou speakest as a man of valour,
And valiant were thy deeds; but, blind with pride,
Thou dar'dst despise me afterwards; dar'dst raise
Thyself above me; to my praise pretend,
And clothe thyself with my reflected light.
And, were I not thy king, does it become
A warrior, entering on the paths of fame,
His hoary predecessor to despise?
Thou, great in all things, wert not so in this.
Of thee the daughters of my people sung:
“David the valiant, his ten thousands slew;
“Saul slew his thousands.” To my inmost heart,
David, thou woundedst me. Why saidst thou not,
“Saul in his youth not only slew a thousand,
“But thousand thousands: he the warrior is;
“Me he created.”
Da.
I indeed said this;
But those who to thy hearing gain'd access,
More loudly cried: “Too powerful David is:
“In all men's mouths, and in the hearts of many;
“If thou, Saul, slay him not, who will restrain him?”
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What said not Abner to the king? “Ah, David
“Too much surpasses me; hence I abhor him;
“Hence envy, fear him; hence I wish him dead.”
Ab.
Miscreant! the day that thou clandestinely
Didst with thy prophets trait'rously cabal;
When for thy monarch thou didst spread in secret
Infamous snares; when shelter thou didst seek
E'en in the bosom of Philistia's sons;
And with impure foes spending days profane,
Didst meanwhile with domestic traitors hold
A secret commerce: now do I perchance
Only allege this? or didst thou not do it?
At first, who more install'd thee than myself
Within thy monarch's heart? Who prompted him
To give thee Michal? Abner ... he alone ...
Mi.
'Twas I, I at my father's hand obtain'd
David as consort; his I sought to be;
I, smitten by his virtue. He inspired
My earliest sighs; the idol of my heart,
My hope, my life he was, and he alone.
Although disguised in base obscurity,
Reduced to poverty, yet evermore
David had been more welcome to my heart
Than any proud king whom the east adores.
Sa.
But thou, oh David, canst thou controvert
The charges Abner brings? Didst thou not seek
A shelter in Philistia? Didst thou not
Sow in my people seeds of black revolt?
Hast thou not plotted many times to take
Thy monarch's life, thy sacred father's life?
Da.
Behold; this border of thy royal garment
Answers for me. Dost recognize it, thou?
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Sa.
Give it to me.
What do I see? 'Tis mine; assuredly ...
Whence didst thou take it? ...
Da.
From thyself I took it,
With this my sword, from off thy royal robe,
My own hands severed it.—Remember'st thou
En-gedi? There, where barbarously thou
Pursuedst me, a banish'd man, to death;
There was I, in the cave, that from the fount
Derives its name, a friendless fugitive:
There, thou alone, thy warriors having station'd
To guard the abrupt entrance of the cave,
On downy pillows, in calm quietness,
Didst close thine eyes in sleep ... Yes, thou, oh heaven,
With rancorous and with bloody thoughts inflamed,
Didst slumber there! Thou seest how mighty God
Defeats the schemes of human subtlety!
There with impunity I might have slain thee,
And by another issue have escaped.
This border of thy robe sufficiently
Proves this. Behold thee, thou a king,
A haughty and a great one, in the midst
Of arm'd battalions, fallen in the hands
Of the proscribed calumniated youth ...
Abner, the valiant Abner, where was he? ...
Thus does he guard thy life! Thus serve his king!
Thou seest in whom thou hast reposed thy trust;
On whom thou hast thy indignation wreak'd.—
Now art thou satisfied? Now hast thou not,
Saul, of my heart proofs incontestable,
Of my fidelity and innocence?
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Of the malignant and invidious rage,
And the precarious vigilance of Abner?
Sa.
My son, thou hast conquer'd; ... thou hast wholly conquer'd.
Abner, do thou behold him, and be dumb.
Mi.
Oh joy! ...
Da.
Oh father! ...
Jo.
Oh auspicious day!
Mi.
My husband! ...
Sa.
Yes, this is a day of joy,
A day of restitution and of triumph.
I will that thou to-day command my armies:
Abner oppose not; since I will it so.
Let no contention 'twixt you two arise,
Except an emulation which shall slay
Most of Saul's enemies. Thou, Jonathan,
Beside the brother of thy heart shalt fight:
David to me is surety for thy life;
And thou art so for his.
Jo.
When David leads
Our armies, God himself becomes our surety.
Mi.
May God restore thee to me; he will save thee ...
Sa.
Let this suffice. Before the fight begins
Come to the tent, oh son, a little while,
And rest thy wearied limbs. Thy spouse beloved
Shall sooth the long affliction of thy absence.
With her own hands meanwhile shall she provide
And minister thy food. Daughter, do thou
Repair in part (for thou alone canst do it)
The involuntary errors of thy father.
| Saul | |