Piety, and Poesy :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sam.
Why from the cold bed of my quiet Grave
Am I thus summon'd Saul? what wouldst thou have?
Why must thy Incantations call up me
From secure sleep? are men in Graves not free?

Saul.
Divinest Spirit of blest Samuel,
The Causes that by Necromantick Spell
I am induc'd to raise thee from thy Grave
Are these, within my restlesse Soul I have
A thousand Torments, The Philistims are
Prepar'd against me with a dreadfull War
And the Almighty who hath stood my Friend
In many Battels, given victorious End
To all my Actions, and (in Dreams) would shew
Whether I should be Conquerour or no,
All things so near unto my Wishes brought
I knew the Battels End, ere it was Fought,
But now no Invocations can desire
The all-disposing Power to inspire
My longing Soul with so much Augury
As serves to prophesie my Misery;
These are the Causes make me thus return
To thee, though sleeping in thy peacefull Urn.

Sam.
Com'st thou to me to know thy Enterprize?
Can Man make manifest what God denies?

Yet I shall ease thy doubt; and now prepare
To hear the fatal passage of thy War,
So sad a Sonnet to thy Soul I'le sing,
Thou'lt say it is a Curse to be a King;
That all his Pomp, Titles, and Dignity,
Are glorious Woes, and Royal Misery:
As good Kings are call'd Gods that suppresse Evils,
So bad Kings (worse than Men) grow worse than Devils.
But these are exhortations fit for those
That have a Crown and People to dispose;
Alas! thou'st none, but what adds to thy Crosse,
Thou hast it, to be ruin'd with the losse;
Thy Diadem, upon thy Head long worn
In Majesty, shall from thy front be torn,
So shall thy Kingdome from thy power be rent,
And given to David as his Tenement;
Before the sun hath once his journey gone
Unto the West, thou shalt be overthrown
By the Philistines, all this shalt thou fee,
And then thou and thy sons shall be with me.
But all these sorrows would have been Delights,
Hadst thou against the Curs'd Amalekites
Obey'd the Almighties will. But 'tis too late
Now to exhort; farewel, attend thy Fate,

Sau.
Oh! dismal Doom, more than my Soul can bear
A thousand Furies in a Band appear,
To execute their charge; a Ghost doth bring
News that doth make a shadow of a King.
Oh! wretched Dignity! what is thy end?
That men should so their fond Affections bend

To compasse their Frail Glory? half these woes
That I have on me, would confound my Foes:
Must these mysterious Miseries begin
With me, the small'st o'th' Tribe of Benjamin?
It could not else be stil'd a perfect Thrall;
The highest Riser, hath the lowest fall.
Would I had still kept on my weary way,
To seek my Fathers Asses, then to stray
This Princely path of passions; I had then,
As now most curs'd, been happiest among men.
Ye Princes, that successefully shall Reign
After my haplesse End, with care and pain,
Peruse my pitied Story, do not be
Too confident of your frail Sov'reignty;
If Titularity could safety bring,
Why was't not mine (a Prophet and a King?)
And (for a Friend) what Mortal can excel
The Knowledge of Seraphick Samuel?
Who had he liv'd, and I his Counsel taken,
I had not (as I am) been thus forsaken:
But now I shake thee off, vain World, Farewel;
Here lies entomb'd the King of Israel.
All you that stand, be wary lest you fall,
And when ye think you're sure, Remember Saul.