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Davideis

The life of David, King of Israel. A sacred poem. In five books. By Thomas Ellwood. The fifth edition
  
  

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BOOK III.
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
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BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

Long had the Hebrew common-wealth been torn
By civil jars, since first the sacring horn
On David's head, from rev'rend Samuel's hand,
Had empty'd been by God's express command:
While the tall son of Kish, with armed force
Begirt (the flow'r of Israel's foot and horse)
Left nothing unattempted to bring down
The son of Jess', the rival of his crown;
The princely youth, by envy doom'd to fall,
Because his virtues far exceeded Saul:
Who can recount the jeopardies, which he
Was daily in, while he was fain to flee
From cave to rock, from one hold to another,
And safety for his aged sire and mother
In Moab seek; himself enforc'd to fly
To Achish, Israel's utter enemy!

88

Who the great Philistine so lately slew,
Is glad now to a Philistine to sue
For shelter; driven by domestick foes,
To beg from foreign enemies repose;
Adullum, Mizpeh, Hareth, Keilah, Ziph,
En-gedi, Paren, and the craggy cliff
Of Hachilah, the rocks where wild goats breed,
Witness the hardships borne by Jesse's seed.
A sabbath now of years was fully run,
Since David's causeless troubles first begun,
When the Almighty, having throughly prov'd,
The faith and love of him he throughly lov'd,
Said, ‘'Tis enough.’ And with that word decreed,
The means whereby his David should be freed.
The Philistines again invade the land,
The tall but trembling king is at a stand;
From God departed, he of God is left,
Of counsel and of courage both bereft;
What course, in this so great a strait, to steer,
He wist not, 'twixt necessity and fear;
The prophet, from whose heaven-inspired breast,
Counsel did use to flow, was gone to rest;
God, nor by urim did in that extreme,
Vouchsafe to give an answer, nor by dream,
Though sought unto. In vain doth man expect,
Deliv'rance by the hand he doth reject.
Deserted thus of God, the faithless king
Himself upon th'infernal pow'rs doth fling;

89

Consults a witch, and her imploys to raise
The prophet Samuel, who many days
Had with his fathers slept. O blinded wretch!
To think a silly witch had pow'r to fetch
A sacred prophet from his peaceful rest;
Or devils, after death, could saints molest.
Yet, by the apparition which she brought,
Was Saul of his approaching ruin taught,
And found it true. The Philistines prevail'd,
The strength of Isr'el with their courage fail'd;
Numbers were slain, the rest with terror fled,
And Saul's three sons were found among the dead;
He sorely wounded, and in blood imbru'd,
By chariots and by horsemen close pursu'd,
Bids his own squire, left he should be abus'd,
Dispatch him quite; but he, thro' fear, refus'd;
Despair then prompting, on his sword he fell,
Who durst against the King of kings rebel.
Such was the end of disobedient Saul,
Whom God the first to Israel's crown did call;
For not performing God's express command,
Perish he must, and that by his own hand;
He that spar'd Agag, doom'd by God to death,
With his own hand lets out his vital breath.
Monarchs, beware; let this great monarch's fall,
For ever be a warning to you all.

90

CHAP. II.

WHILE this so great discomfiture befell,
For their king's sake, the host of Israel;
While streams of reeking blood did float the plain,
And Gilboa was loaded with the slain,
The all commanding Providence took care,
That his anointed prince should not be there,
And, by an extraordinary way,
Kept him from danger and from guilt that day.
The great disposer of all human things,
Who, at his pleasure, makes and unmakes kings,
Who hath the hearts of princes in his hand,
And can our foes to be our friends command,
He had the heart of Gath's fierce king inclin'd,
To be to David in affliction kind.
Achish did Ziklag unto David give,
Where he with his retinue safe might live;
Heap'd favours on him, promis'd great rewards,
No less than to be captain of his guards;
But he must to the battle with him go,
And help to give his king an overthrow.
How great a strait must David now be in,
Having no other choice, than death or sin!
Death, if he should refuse to fight; and sin,
In fighting Isr'el for the Philistin.

91

Thus sorely exercis'd, it may be guest,
Such thoughts as these might fill his troubled breast.
How can I draw my sword against my king,
And not upon myself the odium bring
Of foul rebellion! I, who never durst
Attempt his life, although he sought mine first?
I dare not, knowing him by God appointed,
Stretch forth mine hand against the Lord's anointed.
I well recall, how I within was smote,
When I but cut the skirt from off his coat;
What may I then expect, but wrath divine,
If he should fall by any stroke of mine!
But say, the king were safe: yet how can I,
Whose sword hath troops of Philistines made fly,
Who purchas'd Michal with the parted skins
Of four times fifty slaughter'd Philistines?
I, who the daring'st champion of their crew,
They looking on, in single combat slew,
And, God assisting, with a single sling,
Deliv'rance did unto my country bring;
Shall I now for the Philistines go fight,
And draw my sword against an Isr'elite!
Shall I assist God's heritage to bring
In thraldom to th'uncircumcised king!
Shall I upon myself incur the guilt,
Of all the blood which may that day be spilt.
In Israel! The Lord forbid that I
Should ever yield to such a villany.

92

But yet, if I refuse my men to lead,
With Achish to the field, and cannot plead
A fair excuse; what can I think but he
Will thenceforth treat me as his enemy!
What can I then expect for me and mine,
But present death! or that he will confine
Myself and men in prison close, until
He may our blood with ling'ring torments spill.
Shall I, this mischief to prevent, comply
With his commands, at least-wise seemingly?
Shall I unto my present fortune yield,
And briskly draw my forces to the field;
Shall I with Achish to the battle go,
As if I were to Israel a foe;
Then, when the battle's joined, wheel about,
And help to give the Philistines a rout?
No! that were base; and I had rather die,
Than stain mine honour with such treachery!
Exil'd from mine own land, I hither fled
To seek a shelter for my hunted head;
I found a kind reception with this prince,
And in his favour I have stood e'er since;
To me his bounty hath extended been,
No less than if I were a Philistine;
In me he doth repose a special trust,
And God forbid I should be less than just;
Ungrateful to a proverb I should be,
Should I betray him to his enemy;
Death rather choose! than such an infamy,
On David, on an Israelite, should lie.

93

While David thus did many thoughts revolve,
Not knowing what with safety to resolve,
Save in the rear, with Achish on to go,
And wait on God for counsel what to do;
The God of David his deliv'rance wrought,
And fairly him from this dilemma brought.
The princes of the Philistines, to whom
Their king's new favourite was now become
An eye-sore; not well pleas'd before to see,
Court-favours heap'd upon a refugee;
And now observing, that their easy king,
Not only David and his men did bring
To battle, but had rang'd them by his side,
As if in them he chiefly did confide;
Their emulation could no longer hide,
But, with a discontented murmur, cry'd,
‘What do these Hebrews here!’ The king would fain
Their discontents allay, but try'd in vain;
The more he David's courage, conduct, prais'd,
The more against them he their choler rais'd;
Their wrath brake forth. ‘This fellow make,’ said they,
‘Return unto his place, left he betray
‘Us in the heat of fight, and by that wile,
‘Himself unto his master reconcile;
‘For, by what means can he procure his peace
‘With Saul so well, as by the heads of these?
‘Command him, therefore, back; for, surely, know
‘He shall not with us to the battle go.’
They stoutly urge. The king is fain to yield,
And David forthwith is dismiss'd the field.

94

Thus God, when he his saints hath throughly try'd,
Can ways unthought for their escape provide.

CHAP. III.

JOY now abounding in his thankful heart,
Jesse's fair son doth from the camp depart,
And towards Ziklag, with a nimble pace
Marches, his loyal consorts to embrace;
But ere the sun thrice set, his joy was check'd,
By a disaster he did least expect.
Approaching near the place where stood the town,
To his surprize he found it levell'd down,
Burnt to the ground, and in its ashes laid,
And all that was therein away convey'd;
No living soul was left that might inform,
Who were the authors of this dismal storm.
Who can conceive the horror that possess'd,
On that afflicting sight, poor David's breast!
Amaz'd he stood, like one that's struck with thunder,
Fill'd with astonishment and silent wonder;
His blood retiring to his trembling heart,
Left a cold sweat upon each outward part;
Heart-rending sorrows did, without controul,
Imprison all the powers of his soul;

95

Grief forc'd a vent at last, and out did pour,
Through his fainting eyes, an easing show'r;
Tears flow'd amain; he wept until the store,
Of tears was spent, and he could weep no more.
When sighs did passage to his grief afford,
And speech was to his falt'ring tongue restor'd,
He more obdurate must have been than stone,
Whose heart had not been tend'red with his moan;
The loss of Ziklag something was, much more
That of the people with their wealthy store;
But with the deepest groans he did bewail,
His lost Ahinoam and Abigail;
His sorrows to complete, his little host,
For there was no man but had something lost,
Were on the point to mutiny, and fall
With stones upon their guiltless general.
His reason now did to return begin,
Out of that stupor grief had plung'd it in,
And calling back with nimble diligence,
His spirits and his intellect'al sense,
His piety did first itself exert,
Sure token of a right religious heart.
Fear, bane of noble actions, off he shakes,
And in the Lord his God fresh courage takes,
His blood enkindles, and his spirits boil,
With strong desire to regain the spoil,
The living spoil, if life did yet remain,
In his two consorts and their youthful train;

96

His flaming eye sparkles an angry threat,
And just revenge his active pulses beat.
Yet would he not on this adventure move,
'Till he had try'd, how God would it approve.
How happy should we be! How would success
Crown all our actions! how would heav'n bless
Our essays, if in all we undertake,
We first the Lord our counsellor would make.
The priest is called; the sacred ephod brought;
God's counsel, in his own direction sought;
The answer is propitious. Out he went,
With his six hundred men; two hundred spent
With their hard march, were by the rest forsook,
Not able to get over Besor-brook.
Not far had David with the rest advanc'd,
When an Egyptian in the field they chanc'd
To find, who being sick, and hunger pin'd,
Was by those sacking rovers left behind;
Him they refreshed with long-wanted food,
And by him, when recover'd, understood,
That their old enemy, th'Amalekite,
It was had done them this so great despite;
By him too, oath of safety first be'ng giv'n,
(Oaths then were lawful, by the God of heav'n)
Was David guided to the place where they,
In jovial merriment securely lay;

97

Of Ziklag's dainties they a feast had made,
And with their plunder drove a merry trade;
From eating, they to dancing fell and drinking,
How soon they must the reck'ning pay, not thinking;
When on a sudden, David in doth pour
His men upon them, like a thunder-show'r.
Could you observe, in what a furious way,
A lion leaps upon his trembling prey;
So on the Amalekites the Hebrews flew,
Than lions fiercer, having in their view
Their captiv'd wives and children, and the fire,
Of smoking Ziklag to inflame their ire.
The slaughter 'till the next day's ev'ning held,
The earth with slain was cover'd, rivers swell'd
With blood of Amalek that thither ran,
For of them all escaped not a man,
Except four hundred who, perhaps, by night,
On camels mounted, sav'd themselves by flight.
During the time this bloody work did last,
The captive dames, with hands and eyes up-cast,
Implor'd the God of Israel to bless,
The arms of their deliv'rers with success;
But when destroy'd they saw their enemies,
Their thankful joy brake through their sparkling eyes;
And, as Andromeda, when from her chain
Releas'd, she saw the frightful monster slain,
So look'd Ahinoam, so Abigail,
When they their dearest David saw prevail.

98

The slaughter over, and the field now clear'd,
So that no living enemy appear'd,
The victors and their new redeemed dames,
(Those love, these love and gratitude inflames)
Together run with nimble-footed paces,
And clasp each other in most sweet embraces.
When they had paid the debt long due to love,
The Hebrew captain did from thence remove,
And toward Ziklag took again his way,
With his recover'd spoil, and with the prey
Of Amalek. To Besor-brook they bend,
Where his recruited men did him attend;
To them, as to the rest, he doth divide,
Their share o' th'booty, and to Ziklag hy'd;
From whence he, of the spoil, unto his friends,
In all the coasts about, rich presents sends.

CHAP. IV.

TWO days in Ziklag now had David stay'd,
To view the ruins which the fire had made;
But most his thoughts on Israel's camp did run,
And fear'd the worst, not knowing what was done;
When on the third, lo, one with running spent,
Earth on his head, and all his garments rent,
Came from the camp, and falling at his feet,
Did with good news, as he suppos'd, him greet.

99

He told, how Israel from the battle fled,
That of the soldiers multitudes were dead;
That Saul, and Jonathan his son, were slain;
At those great names, David could not refrain,
But forthwith ask'd him, by what means he knew
What he reported of Saul's death was true.
He, hoping some advantage would accrue,
Confess'd his prince, at his request, he slew,
And to confirm the truth of what he said,
Saul's crown and brac'let at his feet he laid.
As one that stooping something up to take,
Claps his unwary hand upon a snake,
Doth with a sudden fright, first backward start,
His scared blood retiring to his heart,
Then at a farther distance, trembling stands,
With fainting countenance and palsied hands;
So startled David at th'unlook'd for sight,
Of that which some would gaze on with delight,
Th'imperial crown; by which he surely knew,
That what the fellow told him was too true.
Grief seiz'd his spirit; he with garments torn,
Together with his men, for Saul did mourn;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' Saul to him had been,
A fiercer foe than any Philistine;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' Saul his life had sought,
And him into extremest dangers brought;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' by the death of Saul,
He knew the kingdom unto him would fall.
Thus gen'rous minds, e'en with their enemies,
In adverse fortunes can't but sympathize.

100

For Jonathan, as for an only brother,
Or as a virgin for her constant lover,
So mourned he; for 'twixt them two had past,
A friendship that beyond the grave must last;
Immortal friendship! Never two were twin'd
More close; they had two bodies, but one mind.
Patroclus to Achilles was less dear;
Hylas to Hercules not half so near;
Not Pylades did more Orestes love;
Nor Damon to his Pythias truer prove;
To Pirithous more close not Theseus
Did cleave; nor Nysus to Euryalus;
Than did to David princely Jonathan,
From the blest day their friendship first began;
Their souls were so commix'd, that none could tell,
Which lov'd most truly, either lov'd so well;
Jonathan's love to David strongly ran,
And David's flow'd as strong to Jonathan:
So that e'en yet, we in a proverb have it,
[Strong as the loves of Jonathan and David]
'Twas for his friend, for such a friend as man
Scarce had before; 'twas for his Jonathan
That David mourn'd; and who enough could moan,
The death, untimely death, of such an one.
But, from particulars, his grief did call,
To mourning for the tribes in general;
The house of Israel was wounded deep,
What Isra'lite could hear it, and not weep!
Not weep a flood! the people of the Lord,
Are fallen by th'uncircumcised's sword;

101

This, to his sorrow, set the flood-gates ope,
And to his melting grief gave boundless scope.
Nor would his single sorrow serve the turn,
But all his men together with him mourn;
Saul's death and Jonathan's he did not fail,
In most pathetick language, to bewail;
But, sure, the stifling grief that fill'd his breast
For Isr'el, could not be in words exprest.
When sorrow now its force had somewhat spent,
And flowing tears to grief had given vent,
The messenger, who did the tidings bring,
Having confest that he did kill the king,
Was, self-convicted, unto death appointed,
And kill'd, for having slain the Lord's anointed.
That justice done, David from Ziklag rose,
By God's direction, and to Hebron goes.

CHAP. V.

HAIL! noble hero, favourite of heaven,
To whom a royal diadem is given!
Welcome to Hebron! Lo, thy people bring
Their presents to their new-elected king.
No sooner was it known, that Jesse's son
Had Ziklag left, and was to Hebron gone,

102

But Judah's nobles thither did resort,
And, with a splendid train, did fill his court;
Judah, the tribe to which he did belong;
Judah, the tribe of all the tribes most strong.
The men of Judah, as with one consent,
From all their cities unto Hebron went,
They went with hearts full of affection fraight,
His safe arrival to congratulate;
No sooner met, but David they install,
King over Judah in the room of Saul,
The sacred oil they on his temples shed,
And set the imperial crown upon his head;
The court they make, and all the city ring,
With joyful acclamations to their king.
Scarce were the coronation triumphs o'er,
Scarce the new king his diadem had wore,
When he again must draw his late sheath'd sword:
“Short are the joys external things afford.”
A son of Saul's surviv'd his father's death,
Twice twenty years of age, nam'd Ish-bosheth,
Him Abner did to Mahanaim bring,
And, o'er the house of Isr'el, made him king.
Thus Israel and Judah were divided,
Whilst either party with their own king sided;
Hence civil wars between the tribes arose,
And former friends degen'rate into foes;

103

They that were link'd by nature and by grace,
Each other now in hostile manner chase,
The sword devoureth kin on either side,
And Hebrews' hands in Hebrews' blood are dy'd.
When long these hateful civil wars had lasted,
And Isr'el's strength was thereby greatly wasted,
(For weaker grew the house of Saul, the longer
The war endur'd, and David's house grew stronger)
Then awful Providence, by means unthought,
The war and faction to a period brought.
To Rizpah, who had been Saul's concubine,
'Twas thought that Abner did too much incline;
This Ish-bosheth resenting with disdain,
Charg'd Abner that with Rizpah he had lain;
High-stomach'd Abner, who could nothing brook
That touch'd his honour, such displeasure took
At this reproach, that he resolv'd to bring
All Israel over unto Judah's king;
Nor would he in a covert manner go
To work, but boldly told his master so.
Forthwith to David messengers he sent,
To make his peace, and then in person went
To Hebron; after he had first inclin'd
The Isr'elitish princes to his mind.
Him David graciously receiv'd, and made
A royal entertainment while he staid;
And then in peace dismiss'd him, to effect
The grand affair which Abner did project.

104

Not far from Hebron yet was Abner gone,
When Joab ent'red (David's sister's son)
Who on some military enterprize,
Had absent been against the enemies,
With David's men of war (for, over all
His uncle's forces he was general)
And, having giv'n his enemy the foil,
Was just returned laden with the spoil.
When Joab heard that Abner had been there,
Receiv'd and sent away again with care,
His passion rose so high, it made him fling
Undutiful reflections on his king.
Zeal he pretended for his prince's state,
But underneath did lurk revenge and hate;
For, 'twas not long before, at Gibeon fight,
That Abner and his men be'ng put to flight,
Asael, Joab's brother, him so hard
Pursu'd, that Abner standing on his guard,
In's own defence, and sore against his will,
To save himself was forc'd the youth to kill;
His brother's blood, in Joab's eye still reeks,
And he a season to revenge it seeks.
He after Abner sends, in David's name,
(Unknown to David) to return.—He came;
Deceitful Joab received him at the gate
With feigned kindness, hiding inward hate,
As if he had some secret to impart,
Took him aside, and stabb'd him to the heart.

105

Thus fell the valiant Abner: thus did die
A brave commander through base treachery;
Thus princely Joab did his honour stain,
With Abner's noble blood, ignobly slain.
When unto David's ear the news was brought
Of the foul murder by his nephew wrought,
It pierc'd his royal heart; apt words he lack'd,
To speak his just abhorrence of the fact;
Yet in unstrained terms himself he free'd,
From being conscious of so foul a deed.
‘I and my kingdom guiltless are,’ he said,
‘Of Abner's blood; on Joab be it laid,
‘And may it on his house for ever rest,
‘May sword or famine him and his infest;
‘May his posterity be never free,
‘From leprous ulcer or infirmity.’
Then for the funeral he order gave,
And wept a show'r of tears on Abner's grave;
Joab to rend his clothes he did command,
And, at the grave, begirt with sackcloth stand;
After the bier himself in mourning went,
And in an elegy his grief did vent;
The people join their tears, o'er Abner weep,
And, for his death, a solemn mourning keep.

106

CHAP. VI.

TOO late did Ish-bosheth his error find,
In having alienated Abner's mind
From his affairs; too late did he repent
His hasty rashness, when he saw the event.
'Twas not without good cause, that nature set
A double guard before the tongue; and yet
That nimble member, it's too often found,
Nor lips, nor teeth can keep within its bounds,
But out it breaks; a few unwary words,
More mischief do than twice as many swords.
Saul's inconsid'rate son, 'tis like, ne'er thought
His taunt would such a dire effect have wrought;
But martial spirits no affront can brook,
That on their honour like a stain doth look;
And, therefore, even kings themselves had need,
How they their subjects disoblige, take heed.
When fame had sounded Abner's hasty death
Into the ears of drooping Ish-bosheth,
A trembling seiz'd him, and his spirits fail,
His hands grew feeble, and his face grew pale;
And he, though yet no danger did appear,
Himself abandon'd to unmanly fear;
This abject mind made some neglect him more,
Who did not over-value him before.

107

Two sons of Rimmon, the Be-erothite,
The off-spring of the wily Gibeonite,
Were under Ish bosheth in some command,
Each was, perhaps, the captain of a band;
These, by some means, intelligence had got,
That Israel's princes a revolt did plot,
And hoping to advance their fortunes higher,
For David did against their Lord conspire.
Their prince into his chamber had retir'd,
As there, at noon, the sultry clime requir'd,
And being both with heat and grief opprest,
Had thrown himself upon his bed to rest;
The resolute assassins thither came,
One Baanah styl'd, Rechab the other's name;
Poor Ish-bosheth asleep supinely lay,
Him on his bed, the traitors basely slay;
Then, from his bleeding corpse his head they take,
And, thro' the plain, with speed for Hebron make.
Arriv'd, to David forthwith they address,
And in such terms as these themselves express:
‘Behold, great prince, the head of Ish-bosheth,
‘The son of Saul, thy foe who sought thy death;’
And, instantly, the mangled head they shew'd,
A ghastly sight, in purple gore imbru'd!
The sight struck horror in the standers-by,
But indignation flam'd in David's eye;
He paus'd; then with a tone that made them quake,
To this effect he to the traitors spake:

108

‘As the Lord lives, who hath my soul,’ said he,
‘Redeemed out of all adversity,
‘When one to Ziklag came, and tidings brought
‘That Saul was dead’ (who, for his tidings, thought
He at my hand, a good reward should gain)
‘I caus'd him to be seized on, and slain;
‘How much more then, when wicked men have shed
‘A righteous person's blood upon his bed,
‘In his own house: shall I not now require
‘Of you his blood, and make your death your hire?’
This said, at his command his ready guard,
The treason, with the tritors death reward;
Their hands and feet cut off, upon a spear
Were hang'd in publick to make others fear;
This justice done to Ish-bosheth, his head
In Abner's sepulchre was buried.
The Israelitish elders, who before
To David did incline, do now much more;
Their way is open'd by th'untimely death
Of their own king, unhappy Ish-bosheth;
Their journey, therefore, they to Hebron take,
And to this purpose unto David spake:
‘Behold, great prince, thy bone and flesh are we,
‘And e'en while Saul was king, yet thou wast he
‘That led us out, and brought us in again,
‘Be pleased, therefore, over us to reign;
‘For God hath said, “Thou shalt my people feed,
“And be a captain over Isr'el's seed.”

109

Their message David, with majestick grace,
Receiv'd, and all the elders did embrace;
A solemn league before the Lord they make,
That he not them, nor they should him forsake;
Then forth the consecrated oil they bring,
And over Israel anoint him king;
All hearts are glad, joy reigns in ev'ry eye,
Which shouts and publick triumphs testify;
The vocal nymph the news to fame reports,
Whose trumpet sounds it into foreign courts.
When the solemnities were at an end,
Which on the coronation did attend,
And all things settled; the twice crowned king,
A royal army to the field did bring,
Wherewith th'insulting Jebusites he beat,
And made Jerusalem his royal seat;
The Philistines he smote, who were so bold,
To come and brave him even in his hold;
The Moabites he fully did subdue,
And mighty Hadadezer overthrew;
The Edomites he tributary made,
And Syria having smarted, was afraid;
Abusive Ammon he chastiz'd, and tam'd,
And for his prowess, thro' the east was fam'd.
And yet not more for that, than for his love
To Jonathan, which did itself approve
Long after Jonathan, unhappy prince,
In battle fell, not for his own offence,

110

But for his father's. Friendship that is brave,
Doth death survive, and lives beyond the grave.
David, now having got a little rest,
Bethinks him how his love may be exprest
To Jonathan, his dear deceased friend,
In his posterity; and to that end,
Inquires if any yet remain'd of all,
Descended from the family of Saul,
To whom he, for the sake of Jonathan,
Might kindness shew. They call to mind a man
Whose name was Ziba; him they seek and bring
To court, and straightway he inform'd the king,
That Jonathan had yet a son, by name
Mephibosheth, who of his feet was lame;
For he, poor child, when tidings came that Saul
And Jonathan were slain, receiv'd a fall
Out of his nurse's arms, when, in the fright,
She sought to save him by too hasty flight;
By which disaster he, alas! became
A cripple ever, both his feet were lame.
Him David sent for, and with special grace
Receiving, did at his own table place,
Assuring him, he for his father's sake,
Like care of him as of his own would take;
Then all his grandfather's and father's lands,
Restoring to him, Ziba he commands
To take the charge thereof, the land to till,
And make the best of't, to his utmost skill,

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And bring the profits to his master's son,
That he in handsome port might live thereon.
Mephibosheth, with kindness overcome,
Tho' lame in feet, was neither rude nor dumb;
But both by gesture and expression shew'd,
The highest marks of humble gratitude.

CHAP. VII.

THE highest pitch of honour now attain'd
By David, and the sov'reign power gain'd;
Thrice had the consecrating oil been shed,
In solemn wise on his majestick head,
His temples cinctur'd with a double crown,
The house of Saul, his rival, quite brought down;
His enemies of him did stand in awe,
And to his neighbours round he gave the law;
His arms brought conquest home; his very name
Struck terror where his armies never came;
Secure he sat upon his awful throne,
By others fear'd, beloved by his own;
All things to make him happy did conspire,
In want of nothing reason could desire.
But how unsafe is greatness! ah, how nigh
Unto prosperity doth danger lie!

112

Beguiling pleasures do on greatness wait,
And vice, still lurking, lies at pleasure's gate;
If in its slips, and hard it is, I doubt,
Where pleasures have free course, to keep it out,
Virtue it doth insensibly destroy,
And brings forth treble grief for single joy.
This David found; and ere he was aware,
Was taken and betray'd in pleasure's snare.
It came to pass, one evening, when the heat
Abated was, which in that clime was great,
That David from his easful bed arose,
And to his palace roof for air he goes;
There walking to and fro, his wand'ring eye,
A naked woman bathing, did espy.
The sight surpriz'd him; yet he pleasure took,
On that attractive object still to look,
For scarcely had he seen so fine a creature
For shape, complexion, and for lovely feature.
Poor David's nature, now set all on sire,
His breast inflaming with undue desire;
He look'd and burnt; he burnt and look'd again,
Nor power had from looking to refrain;
His eyes betray'd his heart; now yield he must
Himself a captive to unruly lust.
Ah! how unsafe it is to let the eye
Into the privacies of women pry!

113

How dangerous to let the Devil catch
The mind a roving from its inward watch!
David was guarded strong enough, no doubt,
To hinder any mischief from without,
But he that will secured be from sin,
Must keep a strict and constant guard within.
Now all his thoughts poor David doth employ,
The party how to find, and to enjoy;
He makes inquiry, and doth quickly find,
One that knew both the woman, and his mind;
By him he understood the beauteous dame
Was Amiel's daughter, Bath-sheba her name,
And that she was the brave Uriah's wife,
Uriah lov'd her as he lov'd his life.
This known, the king, impatient of delay,
Sends messengers; the woman they betray,
And bring her to him; she by him conceives,
And then returning home, the palace leaves.
How miserable is that prince's state,
On whom a set of parasites do wait!
How sad is his condition who must trust
Such as will pander to his lawless lust!
Had they, whom David sent the dame to bring,
Been worthy of a place about a king,
They would have run the hazard of his blame,
To save their master from so foul a shame;
They would have represented to his view
That od'us evil in its proper hue;

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They would have try'd all means, have strove, have pray'd,
And, rather than have acted, disobey'd.
But ah! such faithful courtiers are as rare
As crows in streams, or fishes in the air.
No help from his had David; they he sent
Were in so bad a work too diligent;
He spake the word, they ran; their errand tell,
Prevail, the woman bring; by her he fell;
He fell, who had such high attainments known,
To whom such special favours God had shown;
He who so late before the ark did dance,
Now could not stand against a woman's glance;
Surpriz'd by a temptation, down he fell,
Who the sweet singer was of Israel;
He from the holy path, aside did start,
Who once, a man was after God's own heart.
Ah! who can hope when such men fall, to stand
Without an eminent supporting hand!
Our life's a war, temptations all assail,
And, without strong resistance, will prevail.
Not kings, we see, can stand, however good
They are, when once they yield to flesh and blood:
After fair Bath-sheba had been at home
Time long enough to know, her fruitful womb,
By which she was not apt to be beguil'd,
Gave her assurance that she was with child,
Forthwith she private notice thereof sent
To David, publick scandal to prevent;

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This put poor David to his shifts to find
How he the husband and the world might blind.

CHAP. VIII.

MEAN-WHILE Uriah from his home had been,
Seeking immortal fame by arms to win,
Him David straightway sent for home, that he
A cloke to their adultery might be;
Unthinking that he then must be too late,
To cover an amour of such a date.
No sooner good Uriah did receive
The king's command, but forthwith taking leave
Of Joab, to the court his course he bent,
And to his sovereign did himself present;
The king inquires; Uriah doth relate,
Both Joab's welfare, and the army's state.
When he had made an end, and night came on,
The king, impatient till he saw him gone,
Dismiss'd him, and advis'd him haste to make,
Down to his house, and there refreshment take.
Then from his presence forth Uriah went,
And after him a royal mess was sent,
The king concluding he would home repair,
Himself to solace with his (faulty) fair.

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No farther went Uriah than the gate
Of David's house, where servants us'd to wait,
With whom, his old acquaintance, he consorts,
And unto them the war's success reports;
When bed-time came, amongst the guards he kept,
And, soldier like, amongst the soldiers slept.
Troubled was David, when he heard by some
Next morn Uriah had not been at home;
Yet hiding what he could, his discontent,
He for Uriah to his presence sent,
And with a seeming pity, when he came,
Him in such words as these, did gently blame.
‘What was the matter, over-hardy knight,
‘Thou went'st not down unto thy house last night?
‘Cam'st thou not from thy journey, tir'd and spent?
‘Why art thou of thyself so negligent?
‘I thought thou might'st have borne a bed less hard,
‘Than are the matted benches of my guard;
‘I therefore sent thee home to take thy rest,
‘Where I suppos'd thou might enjoy it best;
‘Hereafter, of thyself more careful be;
‘Thou thinks not what thy loss would be to me.’
With humble thanks Uriah thus reply'd:
‘Isr'el and Judah with the ark abide
‘In tents; lord Joab lieth with his men
‘In open fields encamped; shall I then
‘Go to my house to eat, and merry make,
‘And pleasure in my wife's embraces take?

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‘The Lord forbid! As lives thy soul, O king,
‘I will not be persuaded to this thing;
‘I shun whatever courage would abate;
‘Soft pleasures do the mind effeminate.’
Thus spake Uriah. And let none suppose
It drop'd by chance, or from a soldier rose,
But heedfully observe it with an eye,
That can through words a Providence descry;
For God was hedging David's way about,
That David's guilt might to his shame break out.
When David had Uriah's answer weigh'd,
He plainly saw, unless he were betray'd,
He never should by him effect the end
For which he for him from the camp did send;
New measures, therefore, David now doth take,
Contrives how he Uriah drunk may make,
Looks on him with a more familiar face,
And now receives him into special grace;
So seems he in Uriah to delight,
As if he were the only favourite.
His feigned kindness quickly grew so great,
That now Uriah must with David eat,
He makes him drink, and drink, and drink again,
'Till with rich wines he overcharg'd his brain.
Thus sin to sin, thus guilt he adds to guilt,
Nor stops until Uriah's blood be spilt;
Thus the allow'd commission of a sin,
Not seldom serves to let another in.

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Uriah now is drunk; the grapy juice
Hath of his reason robb'd him of the use;
With sprightly wine inflam'd, who would have thought
But he is wife's embraces would have sought?
Yet neither drunk nor sober, could he be
Persuaded either house or wife to see;
But with the guards at night again he lay,
And, snoring, slept his drunkenness away.
The king now hopeless, and enrag'd to think
That neither by his flattery, nor drink,
He could his end obtain; and, harder grown,
(For sin repeated hardens any one)
Resolves, at last, a desperate course to try,
And murder join unto adultery;
No way to save his honour did remain,
He thought, unless he got Uriah slain;
For since he found, that not by any wile,
He the resolv'd Uriah could beguile,
He saw, that if he suffer'd him to live,
He never would the injury forgive;
But, if not seek revenge, at least proclaim
The wrong he suffer'd, and his prince's shame.
Thus reason'd David; on this policy,
The king concludes, Uriah needs must die.
He that had suffer'd too much wrong before,
Lest that discover'd be, must suffer more;
Uriah's guiltless blood must now be spilt,
To make a covering for David's guilt.
But oh! the guilt of guiltless blood thus shed,
Will fall with treble weight on David's head.

119

Ah! what is man, the best of men, when left
Unto himself, of grace divine bereft?
To Joab David doth a letter write,
Commanding him that in the hottest fight,
He should Uriah in the fore-front place,
And, when he is engag'd, retire a-pace,
Leaving him single in the open plain,
That by the enemy he may be slain.
The letter, which contain'd this dire command,
Is sent to Joab by Uriah's hand.
Uriah, void of jealousy and fear,
The fatal letter doth to Joab bear;
Of his own death the instrument he's made;
How easily is innocence betray'd!
So went Bellerophon, whose milder fate
Did unto him prove more propitiate.
When Joab understood his master's mind,
He to Uriah such a place assign'd,
Where, by experience, he before had found
Were valiant men that would defend their ground;
Then falling back, there left him to maintain
The fight alone: so was Uriah slain.
Thus the brave Hittite, by a plot fore-laid,
Valiantly fighting, basely was betray'd;
The first, perhaps, that ever lost his life
For not embracing his most beauteous wife.

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With speed Uriah's death is signify'd
To David, who his joy could hardly hide.
Uriah's widow, when she heard the news,
Put on the mourning weeds that widows use,
And mourn'd the time; then David took the dame
Home to his house, and she his wife became;
Nor was it long before she bore a son;
But God was sore displeas'd with what was done.

CHAP. IX.

NOW all was hush'd and still. Uriah dead,
His wife translated to king David's bed;
No more by stealth, but now with open face,
The joyful king doth Beth-sheba embrace,
Before his courtiers, doth her court and kiss,
And, without blushing, dares to call her his;
Uriah's blood th'adultery out did blot,
And how that blood was shed, is now forgot;
Dissolv'd in melting pleasures David lies,
And from th'avenger in himself he flies;
Remorse was lost, hardness was enter'd in,
Sensual delights had drown'd the sense of sin.
But David's God, the God who David chose,
And David lov'd, would not his David lose;
For though a strong temptation had prevail'd,
And David sway'd thereby, had grosly fail'd;

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Yet he who hearts doth search, and reins doth try,
Saw yet in David a sincerity;
His prophet, therefore, God did send to rouse,
The stupid king from his lethargick drowse.
O boundless goodness! O unmeasur'd love!
Which did the bowels of his father move
Towards his erring child; he condescends,
And the first motion makes, for being friends;
Th'offended uses means to raise a sense
In the offender of his foul offence,
That, on repentance, he may mercy show,
And reconciliation thence may flow.
Th'inspired prophet, thus to David sent,
Did, by a harmless wile, him circumvent;
And having in a parable him caught,
The king to be his own condemner brought.
‘Two men,’ said he, ‘did in one city dwell,
‘One very poor, and one in wealth did swell;
‘The rich, of flocks and herds had plenteous store;
‘The poor man had, in all the world, no more
‘But one small ewe-lamb, which he bought and fed,
‘And choicely with his children nourished;
‘Of his own cup it drank, and for its meat
‘He grudg'd it not the same himself did eat;
‘He let it in his bosom lie at night,
‘For, as a daughter, 'twas his chief delight.
‘Now when a stranger to the rich man came
‘To visit him, so void was he of shame,

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‘That, sparing all his own, he took and drest
‘The poor man's lamb, to entertain his guest,’
With strict attention did king David hear
The prophet's tale; then made it soon appear
How quick his sense was of the poor man's wrong,
And what to th'rich oppressor did belong;
Against the man his hot displeasure brake,
And to the prophet Nathan thus he spake:
‘As lives the Lord, let him be ne'er so high,
‘The man that this hath done shall surely die:
‘Nay, death shall not suffice, but furthermore,
‘He four times over shall the lamb restore;
‘Because, that having plenty of his own,
‘He did this thing, and hath no pity shown.’
So spake the king; but little thought, alas!
That he this sentence on himself did pass.
How partial is the nature of mankind!
Quick-sighted at another's fault, but blind
Unto our own! ourselves how apt to spare,
But unto others, how severe we are!
He that could with an over-hasty breath,
For a less fault, pronounce another's death,
Could just before abuse his neighbour's wise,
And him, without remorse, deprive of life.
No sooner did the heavy sentence come
From David's lips, but Nathan set it home;
Disguises laid aside, the seer began:
“My message is to thee—Thou art the man!”

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How great was now the guilty king's surprise!
Might have been seen in his dejected eyes;
His conscious blood into his face did flush,
And brought upon his cheeks a scarlet blush,
Which lasted not, but in a while did fail,
And was succeeded by a fainty pale,
As if the guiltless blood he lately spilt
Had thither flow'd, to evidence his guilt,
And then retiring, back again had fled
To shew the stained ground where it was shed.
A great disorder in his face appear'd,
As well from what he felt, as what he fear'd;
His hands, like one that had the palsy, shook;
His trembling knees against each other strook;
Silent he sat, his spirit almost gone,
While the inspired prophet thus went on:
‘Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel,
‘Who in most awful majesty doth dwell,’—
“I over Isr'el thee appointed king,
“And out of all thy troubles thee did bring;
“Out of the hand of Saul I thee did save,
“And unto thee thy master's house I gave;
“Into thine arms thy master's wives I cast,
“And to thee Isr'el made, and Judah fast;
“And if all this had been too small a store,
“I would have added such and such things more.
“Why then didst thou the Lord's command despise
“To do the thing that's evil in his eyes?
“Uriah thou, with Ammon's sword hast slain,
“And with his wife, as with thine own, has lain;

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“Now, therefore, never shall thy house be free
“From sword, because thou hast despised me,
“Who from the sheep-cote set thee on the throne,
“And took Uriah's wife to be thine own.”
‘Thus saith the Lord,’—“Behold, I'll evil raise
“Out of thy house against thee divers ways;
“Thy wives, before thine eyes, I'll from thee take,
“And let thy neighbour strumpets of them make;
“He with thy wives in open view shall lie,
“Regardless who looks on, or who stands by.
“Thou secretly hast wrought, and in the dark,
“But I will on thee set a publick mark;
“For I will cause this justice to be done
“Before all Israel, and before the sun.”
Thus said, the prophet stopp'd.—The wounded king,
Who of his guilt now felt the piercing sting,
Defence had none to make; no art did use
His soul offence to palliate or excuse;
But fetching from his very inmost part
A doleful groan, which seem'd to rend his heart,
His quiv'ring lips let fall this mournful word,
“Ah me!—I sinned have against the Lord.”
A sigh the sentence clos'd; a sigh that came
So warmly out, it might his lips inflame;
But that his melting eyes a plenteous show'r
Of tears upon his cheeks and beard did pour.
Short the confession was; yet that it flow'd
From a true penitent the accent show'd;

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It reach'd the prophet's heart, and gain'd belief
Of the sincerity of David's grief;
For God repentance, if it be sincere,
Accepts, tho' short in words it doth appear.
Such David's was; yet was it not in vain,
The gladded prophet alters now his strain,
And with an healing word doth thus begin;—
‘The Lord hath also put away thy sin;
‘Thou shalt not die.’ O! who would be so base
To sin against such undeserved grace!
‘Howbeit, (thus the prophet did proceed)
‘Because thou great occasion by this deed
‘Hast given wicked men the Lord to scorn,
‘The spurious child, which unto thee is born,
‘Shall surely die.’ His word was verify'd,
For, on the seventh day, the infant dy'd.
The prophet now, his message fully done,
Had left the king, and to his house was gone;
But what he from the Lord had to him said,
On David's heart a deep impression made;
His conscience, which before did slumb'ring lie,
Now throughly waken'd, in his face did fly,
And charg'd him home; he felt the wounds within,
Which, on his bleeding heart, were made by sin.
Ah! who his grinding sorrows can express!
Or speak the hundredth part of his distress!
His galling grief, his pity-moving moans,
His deep-fetch'd sighs, and his heart-rending groans!

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Himself we find, could not deliver these,
Without the help of great hyperboles.
How earnest was he! with what fervency
Unto his God did he for pardon cry!
‘Have mercy on me, O my God!’ he cry'd,
‘And for my sins thy face not from me hide;
‘Purge me with hyssop, cleanse me from my sin,
‘And wash me throughly from all guilt within:
‘Create in me a clean heart, and renew
‘Within me, Lord, a spirit right and true;
‘O! from thy presence cast me not away,
‘Nor take thy spirit from me, Lord, I pray;
‘With thy free spirit me uphold; restore
‘The joy of thy salvation as before.’
Such moving supplications, day and night,
Did he pour forth, which I nor can recite,
Nor need; for he hath couch'd them in such verse
As my short-winded muse cannot rehearse.
Suffice it, therefore, that the reader know
He did not pray in vain; but prayed so,
That he not only pardon did obtain,
But his lost favour did with God regain.
God grant, whoever sins like him may be
As true a contrite penitent as he!
End of the Third Book.