University of Virginia Library

DAVID's ELEGY OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN.

2 SAM. 1 CHAP. 19 VER.
On sad Gilboa's drear and silent plain,
Where lofty mounts in sullen darkness rise;
Dejected Israel, all thy beauty's slain,
Thy pride and glory in fall'n grandeur lies.
Tell not in Gath or Askelon our woe,
Lest the glad maids of Philistine rejoice;
Soft let the voice of mournful sorrow flow,
Still be the warriors dull and plaintive voice.

224

Barren Gilboa, be thy tow'ring head,
Let no rich fruits thy blasted desarts yield,
Nor dews, nor rain, their liv'ning influence shed;
There fell our hero on thy bloody field—
Saul's fatal sword was dreadful to his foe,
The valiant trembled at the glitt'ring view:
When princely Jonathan loud twang'd his bow,
Swift to its aim the awful arrow flew.
Swifter than eagles cleave their rapid flight,
The sprightly warriors ran the hostile ground;
Stronger than lions in the furious fight,
They pour'd their strength and death terrific round.
In life and health, on each fond aspect play'd
The smile of friendship and fair beauty's bloom,
But now they've sought death's solitary shade,
And undivided share one silent tomb.
Daughters of Israel strike the gloomy song
With sighs and tears your monarch's urn attend,
Let notes of sorrow murmur sad along,
And, borne by zephyrs, to the skies ascend.

225

In ornaments of gold and fond delight,
Your charms the monarch in fair pride array'd,
Your purple vestments splendid met the sight,
And shining gems their sparkling rays display'd.
Where Gilboa rears its melancholy head,
The trump of battle threw its solemn sound;
The precious blood of Jonathan was shed,
And ting'd the verdure of the thirsty ground.
Ne'er let this voice forget its sorrowing moan,
These streaming eyes with sympathy to flow,
Dear to thee, Prince, was Jessy's humble son,
Love in thy breast assum'd its genial glow.
When from the shades of Bethlehem I came,
When adverse fortune aim'd its deadly dart,
Thy generous bosom ever was the same,
More firm thy friendship than the virgin's heart.
Fall'n are the mighty on Gilboa's plain,
In scatter'd ruins war's bright weapons lie
The tears of friendship, and of love are vain—
In vain, dear Prince, thy David's lonely sigh.