University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The King's private apartment. King David alone. Enter Nathan.
Nath.
God save the Anointed!

K. Dav.
Seer, we would thy counsel.
Damascus asks a consort for his heir,
Our hostage, here, and names the flower of Israel,
Absalom's daughter. What shall we reply?

Nath.
Should Israel graft upon a heathen stock?

K. Dav.
But 't is a noble youth, and near of kin;
And sure the gentle maiden favors him,
For Absalom himself preferred the suit,
Who lives in Tamar.

Nath.
Hearken not, O King.

K. Dav.
But if the youth conform to Moses, sure,
His blood and fortunes may aspire so high.
What nobler line than Hadad's, or what throne
Of older splendor than Damascus'?

Nath.
Old, and idolatrous.

K. Dav.
Her idols fall
If she be linked with us, and Israel's crown
Secures a warlike power as her ally.

Nath.
Rather betroth her to the poorest hind
That toils in Judah.

K. Dav.
Prophet of the Lord,
Seest thou aught more in him than we discern,—
A young prince modelled in the rarest mould
Of mind and features?—Ne'er have I beheld,
Save my son Absalom's, a goodlier form,
Or mind of brighter lustre.

Nath.
I have felt
Strange agitations in his presence,—throes,
And horrid workings,—like the inward strife
After dark visions,—when the spectral forms
That lodge and haunt there, turmoil all my soul.—
Some mystery—some strange antipathy
Torments me with abhorrence and distrust.—
Let not his beauty or his tongue entice thee:
He hath an eye bright as the morning star,
But pride, and fiendlike cunning, glance from it,
And sin is couched in his lascivious smile.

K. Dav.
If intimations visit thee from Heaven,
We owe obedience, else, as man to man,
We speak.—His daughter's welfare I would leave
To Absalom. He hath a mind mature,
Is politic to judge, and loves the maid
Even to her rich deservings. They best know
Their Syrian kinsman, long beneath their roof.

Nath.
Hath she escaped Syria's foul rites, to yield,
Even in the precincts of the sanctuary,
To an uncircumcised, the heart where faith
Glowed like the burning censer!—O, beware
Of crafty policy! It wears a face
Too like ambition. Geshur cleaves to him,—
League but Damascus—with his power in Israel—
And Absalom may bend his father's bow.

K. Dav.
Wrong not my son.

Nath.
I would not; but I fear
The sin of Lucifer hath snared his heart!—
Say why such state attends him?—why he rides
In a proud chariot drawn by fiery steeds,
While Israel's monarch sits upon a mule?—
Why dazzling guards surround him?—Why he still
Stands in the gates saluting all who pass,
And greeting in the streets the common people,
As they were brothers? True humility—

K. Dav.
You misinterpret venial things—

Nath.
He doth insult the throne, and take from age,
And royalty, their reverence.

K. Dav.
You love him not, and ever strained his faults.

Nath.
Why are the Chiefs and Princes of the Tribes,
Who come to solemnize our holy feasts,
Caressed about his table till they deem
The crown upon his brows?—Your chiefest men,
Ancients, and reverend Judges, flock to hear
His Syrian Parasite sweeten their cups
With honeyed flattery, and golden hopes,
And promises of days when Absalom
Shall make the desert blossom, and the rock
Drop as the vine and olive.

K. Dav.
Days like these
Were welcome, Seer.

Nath.
You know not what you utter;—
Woe to the hour of his anointing!—King!
A dreadful vintage shall be trod that day,
With purple garments!—Lo! the noise of arms,
Chariots, and horsemen, and the shout of Nations,
Are in my ears!—the wail of Zion!—Hark!
A cry, a cry, comes from her royal towers,
Of bitter anguish, like a Monarch's voice!
My Son! my People! Woe, alas!

K. Dav.
Say on,—
Heaven's will is ours.

Nath.
'T is gone—
It passed me, like a cloud of blood, with sounds
Confused, like battle.

K. Dav.
(after a pause.)
Nought from thy hallowed lips
Falls unrespected. He who changed yon crook
For Israel's sceptre, may refuse, or grant,
The same to Absalom. His will be done!—
But, Man of God, I harbour no distrust.
Familiar with the pomp of older kingdoms,
My son but antedates the day of Israel.
He, ever, loved the ornaments of life,
Arms and the glistering face of war, and bore
Himself, from his most tender years, like one
Conscious of nobleness, born to sustain
A kingdom's burden.

Nath.
Son of Jesse,—

K. Dav.
What! hath he not, since fourteen summers old,
Served with me in the field, slept in my tent,
Hungered, and suffered, watched, and toiled with me;
Shed his young blood by veteran captains' sides,
And wielded those bright weapons you dispraise
Beneath mine eyes, in dire and mutual hazards,
Like a true son and soldier?

Nath.
Son of Jesse,—

K. Dav.
(waving his hand)
'T is near the hour of sacrifice.
We'll pause ere we decide the Syrian's suit.

Nath.
(making obeisance.)
Dwell, ever, in the hollow of His hand!

(Exit Nathan. King David retires into his cloest.)