University of Virginia Library

Ah! wretched Israel! all thy Beauty's fled!
Thy darling Sons, thy great Defenders dead!
Upon thy Mountains they, lamented, dy'd,
Who for thy sake the worst of Ills defy'd,
Saw Death unmov'd, undaunted met their Fate,
Resolv'd to save, or fall the Victims of the State.

See! low as Earth thy mighty Chiefs are laid,
They who were as superior Pow'rs obey'd;
Who with Majestick Miens, and Airs Divine,
So lately did in glitt'ring Armour shine,
Led on thy Troops, and, full of martial Fire,
Into each Breast did noble Warmth inspire,
Fearless rush'd on, and stem'd the bloody Tide,
Bravely they fought, and then as bravely dy'd.

Let none in Gath the dreadful News relate:
With Care conceal the conquer'd Hero's Fate.
May none our Loss in Askelon proclaim;
Be silent, all ye busie Tongues of Fame;
Lest with a barbarous Joy, a savage Pride,
Philistine Beauties our just Grief deride;
Lest charming Off-springs of polluted Beds,
Shou'd, with an impious Scorn, erect their Heads;
With artful Dances, and triumphant Lays,
Express their Joy, and their curst Dagon praise.

On Gilboa's Heights let no more Dew be found,
Let no soft Rain enrich the Rising Ground;
Let them no more a florid Verdure know,
No more large Crops of springing Plenty show;
No more let Flocks and Herds there Pasture find,
Nothing be left to feed the feather'd Kind;
Nothing be left that can the Priest supply,
Nothing that can on sacred Altars die:
For there the Warriour's Shield was cast away;
For there the Shield of Saul neglected lay,
As if no hallow'd Oil had on his lofty Head
Its odorous Drops with Regal Honour spread.

Back from the Feasts of War, the Banquets of the Slain,
The Bow of Jonathan did not return in vain;
Nor thence the Sword of Saul unglutted came;
Where-e'er he fought, it got him Spoils and Fame.

They both were fraught with Graces all Divine,
Attracting Sweetness did with Greatness join:
The Father laid Authority aside,
The Son made Filial Duty all his Pride.
They mutual Kindness their whole Business made,
And now they undivided rest in Death's calm peaceful Shade.
Not tow'ring Eagles, when by lofty Flights,
They reach'd the Summit of Aerial Heights,
Were half so nimble, half so swift as they,
Nor did fierce Lions with such Strength seize on their trembling Prey.

Ye lovely Daughters of a holy Sire,
Your sparkling Eyes must lose their native Fire;
Tears must obscure those beauteous Orbs of Light;
Your Sovereign has to all your Grief a Right.
In moving Accents mourn o'er vanquish'd Saul,
He do's for your intensest Sorrow call;
He, who with tenderest Care did you supply,
Cloath'd you with Scarlet of the richest Dye:
With Gold embroider'd o'er your Garments were,
And glitt'ring Gems adorn'd your flowring Hair.
To these he added many Presents more,
Added Delights to you unknown before.

Amidst the Scene of War, the Horrors of the Day,
How did the Mighty fall a long contested Prey!
Surrounded by their Foes, did full of Wounds expire,
Vast Seas of Blood put out their martial Fire.

O Jonathan! thou noblest of thy Kind,
Thy Fate was equal to thy Godlike Mind!
Upon thy Heights on slaughter'd Bodies laid,
Thou hast thy own immortal Trophy made!

O what convulsive Pangs for thee I feel!
Love strikes much deeper than the sharpest Steel:
My Pleasure's gone, my Joys are wholly fled,
All, all is lost, my very Soul is dead:
I'm but the Eccho of my self, a Voice of Woe,
In thee I liv'd, now no Existence know.
While thou wert mine, Heav'n had not sure in store
One dear Delight, one single Blessing more
That I cou'd wish, to heighten my Content:
Fancy it self could nothing more invent:
The whole I cou'd desire in thee I found,
My Life was with continual Raptures crown'd,
And all my Hours but one soft blissful Round:
The Thoughts that thou wert mine made all my Sorrows cease,
Amidst my num'rous Toils gave me a Halcyon Peace;
Contemn'd was ev'ry Danger, ev'ry Pain,
Love made me chearfully the greatest Ills sustain.
When thou wert absent, then my busie Mind
Did in thy dear Remembrance Solace find,
Revolv'd thy Words, on each kind Accent stay'd,
And thy lov'd Image in my Breast survey'd;
Fancy'd thy Eyes each tender Glance return'd,
And with engaging Sweetness for thy David mourn'd:
But when thou didst me with thy Presence bless,
O who th'Extatick Transports can express!
Words are too poor, and Language wants a Name
For such a pure, immortal, fervent Flame!
A while I look'd, a while could only gaze,
My Face, my Eyes, my Heart, betray'd my glad
My Soul to thine would force her speedy Way,
Panting she stood, and chid her hindring Clay:
Trembling with Joy, I snatch'd thee to my Heart,
Did, with tumultuous Haste, my thronging Thoughts impart:
Troubl'd, thou heard'st me my past Toils relate,
My Suff'rings did a kind Concern create,
And made thee, sighing, blame the Rigour of my Fate.
O with what Pity, what a moving Air,
Did'st thou then vow thou would'st my Hazard's share,
Promis'd eternal Faith, eternal Love,
And kind to me, as my own Soul didst prove;
Nay, kinder far, no Dangers didst decline,
Expos'd thy Life to add a longer Date to mine!
Such an Affection to the World is new,
None can such wond'rous Proofs of Friendship shew!
Not the fair Sex, whom softest Passions move,
Can with such Ardour, such Intenseness love.
But thou art lost! for ever lost to me!
And all I ever priz'd is lost with thee.
Honour, and Fame, and Beauty lose their Charms,
I'm deaf to the harmonious Sound of Arms;
Deaf to the Calls of Glory and of Praise,
I'll near thy Tomb conclude my wretched Days:
In mournful Strains employ my Voice and Lyre,
And, full of Grief, by thy lov'd Corps expire.

How soon, alas! the mighty are destroy'd!
Who can the dreadful Stroke of Fate avoid!
How are they fallen! who but lately stood
Like well-fix'd Rocks, and dar'd the raging Floud!
They who dispers'd their missive Terrors round,
From whom their Foes a swift Destruction found,
Now lie, like common Men, neglected on the Ground.