 | Saul |  |
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,
73
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,
74
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?
75
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,
76
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;
77
Dreams, terrors, omens, and distresses.
| Saul | |