The history of The Old Testament In verse With One Hundred and Eighty sculptures: In Two Volumes. Vol. I. From the Creation to the Revolt of the Ten Tribes from the House of David. Vol. II. From that Revolt to the End of the Prophets. Written by Samuel Wesley ... The Cuts done by J. Sturt |
 | I, II. |
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| XV. |
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| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. |
| CLV. | CLV. 2 Samuel, Chap. XVII. from Ver. 24.
to the End. Chap. XVIII. to Ver. 18. |
| CLVI. |
| CLVII. |
| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
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| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
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 | The history of The Old Testament In verse |  |
318
CLV. 2 Samuel, Chap. XVII. from Ver. 24. to the End. Chap. XVIII. to Ver. 18.
David met by Barzillai at Mahanaim. The Battel between his Servants and Absalon. Absalon slain by Joab.
What lately pass'd in Council, Hushai sends
To David's Camp, by two confiding Friends:
To Mahanaim, late a Kingly Seat,
O're Jordan's Floods they make a swift Retreat;
By old Barzillai met—.
With Grief at once, and welcom in his Eyes,
Whose hoary Loyalty their Wants supplies;
His Wealth and corresponding Heart so large
To treat a King, nor sink beneath the Charge.
When Tidings came that with a num'rous Host;
The Rebels had the Streams of Jordan cross'd;
And like its spreading Torrent swoln with Rain,
With a broad Front came sweeping o're the Plain.
The Monarch hears, tho' long with Fortune press'd;
He rouz'd the Royal Virtue in his Breast:
Review'd his Army and prepar'd for Fight,
Himself resolv'd to try the Rebel's might:
Nor this his faithful Friends, who thus—If all
Thy Servants shou'd in heat of Battel fall;
The Rebels wou'd so mean a Prey despise,
Their Treason at a nobler Quarry flies:
Myriads of ours the sacred Life out-weighs,
Who if within the Town entrench'd he stays,
If press'd with Odds before the Foe we bend
A strong Reserve to our Relief may send:
Compell'd he yields—Nor cou'd his Royal Breast
Tho' injur'd, all the Father yet divest;
O spare that unadverting Youth, he said,
Whom ill Advice to this rash Action led;
Neither by Malice wicked, nor Design,
Who e're attempts his Life, must aim at mine.
Silent the Generals hear his fond Desire,
The Father praise, but not the King admire.
To David's Camp, by two confiding Friends:
To Mahanaim, late a Kingly Seat,
O're Jordan's Floods they make a swift Retreat;
By old Barzillai met—.
With Grief at once, and welcom in his Eyes,
Whose hoary Loyalty their Wants supplies;
His Wealth and corresponding Heart so large
To treat a King, nor sink beneath the Charge.
When Tidings came that with a num'rous Host;
The Rebels had the Streams of Jordan cross'd;
And like its spreading Torrent swoln with Rain,
With a broad Front came sweeping o're the Plain.
The Monarch hears, tho' long with Fortune press'd;
He rouz'd the Royal Virtue in his Breast:
Review'd his Army and prepar'd for Fight,
Himself resolv'd to try the Rebel's might:
Nor this his faithful Friends, who thus—If all
Thy Servants shou'd in heat of Battel fall;
The Rebels wou'd so mean a Prey despise,
Their Treason at a nobler Quarry flies:
320
Who if within the Town entrench'd he stays,
If press'd with Odds before the Foe we bend
A strong Reserve to our Relief may send:
Compell'd he yields—Nor cou'd his Royal Breast
Tho' injur'd, all the Father yet divest;
O spare that unadverting Youth, he said,
Whom ill Advice to this rash Action led;
Neither by Malice wicked, nor Design,
Who e're attempts his Life, must aim at mine.
Silent the Generals hear his fond Desire,
The Father praise, but not the King admire.
A Wood there was in Ephraim's fruitful Bound
Horrid with ancient Oaks and Shades profound,
Of old for Giants terribly renown'd;
Tho' future Times with more of Dread relate,
The Wonders of this Day's decisive Fate:
Both Armies meet beneath this gloomy Glade,
And Darts and Arrows make a double Shade:
How rude the Shocks, how obstinate the Fight!
But Fortune, once, tho' blind, was in the right:
The Cherethites with Joab at their Head,
Like Lightning pierc'd the Ranks; the heartless Rebels fled;
Fled Absalon as fast as Guilt and Fear,
And his swift Mule cou'd him from Battel bear:
Those Mists fly off which late obscur'd his Sight,
When flatt'ring Fortune conquer'd Reason's Light;
And Nature now to mind, and Reason brought
His injur'd Father, (how severe a Thought!)
How kind, how good! almost he did Repent,
But cou'd not now his hast'ning Fate prevent.
Now all too late, his righteous Doom is past;
—As thro' the Woods he flies with luckless Haste,
While the deceitful Wind does loosly bear,
The flowing Honours of his fatal Hair,
An aged Oak seiz'd and secur'd him there:
Swift as a Shaft from Parthian Archer sped,
His Mule shoots on, and thro' the Covert fled:
With a malicious Joy fierce Joab hears,
And grasping in his Hand three pondrous Spears
Pointed with Death, unto the Place he flew,
And at the Royal Youth the quiv'ring Weapons threw:
To his ambitious Heart they found the way,
And let out lab'ring Life, and introduc'd the Day,
When thus the Chief—If after this thou live,
Let David thee forgive, I'll him forgive:
An Heap of Stones they on the Body cast,
His Marble Column now by Time defac'd,
His Infamy shall down to num'rous Ages last.
Horrid with ancient Oaks and Shades profound,
Of old for Giants terribly renown'd;
Tho' future Times with more of Dread relate,
The Wonders of this Day's decisive Fate:
Both Armies meet beneath this gloomy Glade,
And Darts and Arrows make a double Shade:
How rude the Shocks, how obstinate the Fight!
But Fortune, once, tho' blind, was in the right:
The Cherethites with Joab at their Head,
Like Lightning pierc'd the Ranks; the heartless Rebels fled;
Fled Absalon as fast as Guilt and Fear,
And his swift Mule cou'd him from Battel bear:
321
When flatt'ring Fortune conquer'd Reason's Light;
And Nature now to mind, and Reason brought
His injur'd Father, (how severe a Thought!)
How kind, how good! almost he did Repent,
But cou'd not now his hast'ning Fate prevent.
Now all too late, his righteous Doom is past;
—As thro' the Woods he flies with luckless Haste,
While the deceitful Wind does loosly bear,
The flowing Honours of his fatal Hair,
An aged Oak seiz'd and secur'd him there:
Swift as a Shaft from Parthian Archer sped,
His Mule shoots on, and thro' the Covert fled:
With a malicious Joy fierce Joab hears,
And grasping in his Hand three pondrous Spears
Pointed with Death, unto the Place he flew,
And at the Royal Youth the quiv'ring Weapons threw:
To his ambitious Heart they found the way,
And let out lab'ring Life, and introduc'd the Day,
When thus the Chief—If after this thou live,
Let David thee forgive, I'll him forgive:
An Heap of Stones they on the Body cast,
His Marble Column now by Time defac'd,
His Infamy shall down to num'rous Ages last.
| The history of The Old Testament In verse | |