University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

An open Space before the Palace of David.
URIAH.
To him, ADRIEL.
Uri.
Welcome, my friend! But what dost thou behold
In me, to touch your features with concern
So ill disguis'd, and deep, as what I see
In every line of that once chearful face?
Before we met you seem'd to turn away
And hide a burning blush! Was it for me,
You blush'd, my friend? Was it for me that tear
Stole down your glowing cheek? Have I behav'd
Or, as a soldier, or a friend, to bring
Shame on my friends? Uriah knows no guilt,
No soldier's stain, nor will he hang the head
For others folly. Come, my friend, I know
My wife is false!

Adr.
The tongue of calumny
That oft envenoms virtue, here, perhaps,
Has stain'd the stainless!

Uri.
Be it so, my friend;
Then I will search the slander to the source,
And be it distant, as the springs of Nile,
Or high as Sinai's thund'ring tops; the power
That spoke his mandates thence, shall see this arm
Assert his sacred law, by Israel heard,
Thou shalt not bear false witness.

Adr.
Well resolv'd!

Uri.
Ah, were that all, my friend! But much I fear,
The foul contagious air of courts has breath'd
Infection thro' my dwelling; how, or whence
It came, I know not. But the plague has spread!
It has possess'd her blood! Her mantling cheek
And trembling eyes confess'd it; too serene
Was once that heavenly aspect, not to show
The smallest vapour which disturbs the peace
That dwelt within, for many a tranquil day,
In better times! Now, all is dark and deep,
Tho' dress'd in borrow'd smiles! She scarce had breath
To speak my welcome—cold to my embrace,
I felt not there that throbbing heart that us'd
To beat in unison with mine!

Adr.
Perhaps,
The sland'rous tale has reach'd her ears, and she
Is apprehensive that thine ear has drunk
The deadly poison, and thy rage believ'd
The foul, calumnious tale. This thought might wound
The purest bosom, and induce a tinge
On the most innocent cheek, to look like guilt.—
Your visit was but short! Suspend your judgment
'Till but to-morrow's dawn arrive. This night
May bring conviction!

Uri.
What! this night! this night
Am I to sleep, and will some angel come
To tell me in a dream my spouse is true?—
Or must I, lull'd by charms to soft repose,
Perhaps, within a practis'd harlot's lap,
Help out her soft assertion of her truth
With all a husband's fond credulity?
No—by my father's shade! By all the tombs
Of all that line, whose honourable dust
No stain like this has tarnish'd, I will tear
The mantle from this mystery, ere I sleep,
Or never sleep again!

Adr.
Say, wouldst thou watch
Her door, or lie in ambuscade at home?
This wild demeanour, if she still is pure,
She soon would know, then hate, and deadly scorn
Would pay your ill-starr'd pains!

Uri.
And must I doubt
For ever? Have I neither friend nor foe
To end my vain suspence at once?

Adr.
This night,
If thou regardst my counsel. Shun thy house,
And lodge with me!

Uri.
I know thou art my friend,
And yet thy softest implication sounds
Like thunder! What sad change, or deadly form
Of danger, lurks at home? Or must I give
My room to others! Say, what blasting power
Of earth or hell shall cross a husband's steps
That goes to visit home?

Adr.
Mistake me not.
You torture every word to guilty meaning,
To images of shame and turpitude,
Which on the canvass of the passing clouds,
Your sick'ning fancy draws! I meant no guilt,
Or danger in thy parting or thy stay!

Uri.
Long since, we have exchang'd our souls! our love
Surpass'd a female's fondness: can I think
You treat me like a froward child! to lull
My sense of honour by a drowsy charm
To bid me sit down calmly with my wrongs
And wink at broad detection? Tell me, friend,
Does this become a soldier and a man
Not lowest in esteem?

Adr.
To that high point
I wish to raise thee, which thy merit claims
Where worth like thine will meet its due reward;
Thy country calls thee!—To Uriah's name
The public chorus chants her sweetest praise,
Mixt with indignant murmurs; when it sees
Thy merit sunk, beneath its pitch so far
Subordinate to fawning slaves, whose tongues
By licking up imperial dust, have cleans'd
Their way to wreaths for which they never bled!—

Uri.
Where wouldst thou lead me? thro' what mighty breach
Of loyalty and law conduct my steps
In vanity's broad mirrour to behold
My puny shadow stretch'd to giant size,
And menacing the moon—I am not craz'd
Nor (tho afflicted deep) can yet mistake
The moody madness of a moon-struck brain
For sober reason.—Adriel! I perceive
Your friendly purpose, in my private wounds
To pour the soothing balm of public love—
And lead me gently from the precipice
Where reason's self grows giddy!—but once more
Why leave my home to-night?—

Adr.
Because a prize
Worthy a soldier may this night be won
A game, to save a kingdom! far beyond
The chace of idle rumours! meanwhile, tell
Does your proud general keep his old esteem
Among his bands? Say, has he learn'd of late
To triumph over hearts, no more content
With humble looks alone?—

Uri.
Neither time
Nor place accords with such a question now;—
This, of my general ask'd—my ready sword
Had to another's inquisition given
A suitable reply!

Adr.
Reply to me
Not as a soldier, but a trusty friend
That knows to whom he speaks, and therefore dares
No calumny exists in private words
No faithful bosoms trusted.

Uri.
True, if nought
Invidious, or detracting, from my words,
Calumnious art, against the great in name
Or office, may derive: that vapour draws
Her poison, from the most innoxious flowers
That e'er perfum'd the gale!

Adr.
Art thou become
That honest, loyal bigot of the camp
That does his duty boldly, and winks hard,
(Whene'er his general bids him face the foe)
And sees no danger?—Hast thou sunk so far
The citizen of Israel in the soldier
As not to see and feel th'enormous load
Our martial honours lay upon our necks?—
How gaudy does the cause of glory seem
Like meteors, streaming thro' the waste of night!
Like them, it waves sublime, to witch the world
With gaudy draperies; but, like them, portends
The sounding hurricane, that sweeps away
At once, the ripen'd harvest and the swain.—
'Twas thus you thought, ere war became a trade
When the bold peasant flung away his goad
And seiz'd his javelin at his country's call—
Then hung his shield aloft and join'd the plough.
But, now, in endless wars on wars engag'd
Where veterans, grown beneath their helmets gray
Forget they have a country you have learn'd
The dialect in vogue, and spurn the swain
Who groans beneath the burden of your wars
If his too liberal tongue but glance a hint
Against th'imperial politics, that teach
Unbounded conquest, and unbounded sway!

Uri.
You wrong me much, my friend! there is no heart
In all Judæas bands, which throbbs more quick
At freedom's call, than mine! or more regrets
The time, when our victorious flag (which now
Hangs like a meteor, o'er the troubled east
Portending ruin) more benignly shone
Like Phosphor, o'er those native hills, a sign
Of gentle peace, to all but Israel's foes
Invading foes—but now, we seek them far
From home—and seem to love the cruel trade
Even for itself!

Adr.
Believe me, friend! there lies
Beneath the splendid pile of trophied arms
A deep abyss of ruin for the state!—
Ambitious views, and overweening thoughts
Ideal crowns, and sceptres in the grasp
Already lead our leader, we pursue
And ask not why, nor whither.

Uri.
Such designs
In other minds at other times may grow—
But our commander ne'er will bribe his host
Such dangerous lengths!

Adr.
Thro' want of power—perhaps
I doubt his self-denial.

Uri.
Be th'effect
From this, or from whatever cause deriv'd
His honours on his loyalty recline
And that reposes singly on the name
Of David.

Adr.
You already have return'd
All unawares, the answer I desired
And clear'd my doubts, then from himself he holds
No claim to general love; has he no arts
Of popularity?

Uri.
His arts are vain
Since his ill-omen'd hand in Abner's blood
Was dy'd, tho' bold in arms, in counsel wise
Tho' with the semblance of paternal love
He courts his gallant bands, their hearts revolt.
Tho' by their King's command, their hands are his.
His persidy to Saul's lamented friend
So taint his every deed, his every look,
His words seem fawning, and his liberal gift
The purchase of sedition—that foul deed
Attaints the general, and degrades the man.

Adr.
On kingly favour then he rests alone!—
Say, should the rays of royal grace illume
Some heroe in eclipse, and point their rays
Full on another head, would Israel's bands
Approve the monarch's choice?

Uri.
I question that,—
His brother still, with honest martial worth
Of half the popular indignation, robs
The general's name, obnoxious tho' it be—
Another choice might sow dissension's rage
Among the troops.

Adr.
But Israel's choice at home
The sanction of the tribes, the senate's voice
Would, like the word, that bids the troubled deep
Compose her tumult, send a sacred calm
Among the hosts of Jacob.

Uri.
The intent
Of your discourse, I know not—if to soothe
My grief, you miss the means! while thus you gall
My sore impatience—Was I sent for home
To vent at large my unavailing sighs
For undeserved shame, or lend my breath
To faction's aims!

Adr.
And art thou yet to learn
The general discontent, that spreads around
From tribe to tribe, and what the delegates
Intend, this moment in full counsel met,—
An awful consistory? thou shalt know
Their purpose soon, and you, perhaps, may hear
Uriah's name the master-note that fills,
The awful harmony of popular claims.

Uri.
Uriah's name!

Adr.
No longer will they bear
Oppression's iron rod, nor brook the sway
Of those confederates, who have rul'd the state
So long at random; now a single word,
Perhaps, will break the charm!

Uri.
And were my name
That of the luckiest rebel, who dissolv'd
The bonds of loyalty, and blew the storm
From mutiny to madness, 'till the crown,
Purchas'd by blood, adorn'd the villain's brow.
Sooner upon the footstool of the throne
My blood should flow in royalty's defence,
Than this right hand should break the hallow'd bounds
That lets in loud misrule to lord it wide
O'er sacred order and imperial sway.—
Even gratitude, and friendship's ties forbid.—
I love my king, his virtues well I know,
To them I trust in time to break the cloud,
And chace the noxious fogs that hide his beams.

Adr.
You wrong my meaning much, if you surmise
I wish to tempt you from your loyalty—
I rather hope that some high office waits
Your coming, either in the court or camp,
To serve thy king, and Israel's state at once;
Some station, whence your eye, like yonder beam,
May pierce corruption's haunts, and bid it die,
And wither up the foul and noxious stems
Of luxury and vice, where'er they spring.—
This David owes thee, and I trust, he means
The retribution now, for much it taints
His fame, to leave his long-try'd friend obscure,
(Altho' his worth compells a nation's praise)
Like day's bright lamp, which, tho' beneath the deep,
Yet wakes the warbling lark's instinctive song.—
Shouldst thou succeed, the choice would soon dispell
All discontent, and lay the rising storm.—
If he neglect thee, and continue still
His favour to that dark society
That fill the court and camp, would'st thou refuse
A hand to help to save a sinking state,
When Israel claims thine aid?

Uri.
I see not yet
The pressing need to leave the beaten track
Of loyalty.

Adr.
And may it never come!
Yet time, my friend, may soon discover more!
Then, if thy country calls, attend the call,
Nor fear to spread thy pinions to the gale,
Mount to an eagle's pitch, and boldly soar
Against the sun, if fate demands thy rise!
Think on thy wrongs, if any faults be found
Where most thou fear'st. Remember Israel's claim—
And, when I see thee next, be resolute,
Be fearless, as becomes thy country's friend,
Be bold, be cautious, and avoid thy home.

[Exit Adriel.
Uri.
Was it a demon in a friendly form
That came to tempt me thus!—I yet am firm—
The noxious spell has neither touch'd my head
Nor heart. I feel the seat of reason clear—
What am I then to think, or what resolve.
Think on my wrongs. Why, then, my shame is known.
Yon travel'd sun but propagates the tale
From east to west! Yet I must shun my home!
Or glares the proof abroad?—perhaps—at court.
Or from the court my shame at first began.
For we, that fight the battles of our king,
And bear the vengeance of our God against
Rebellious states, and purge the noxious clime,
Yet know not what pollution breeds at home,
Or what foul vapours taint the stagnant calm
Of high-vic'd cities. Some new favourite
Of this new faction, that besiege the throne
Of too indulgent David, has undone
My peace for ever; yet, whoe'er he is,
My friend even dreads to name him. Should it be
Amnon, or Absalom, my sovereign lord
Will not, like old lethargic Eli, spare
The criminal, for his exalted rank,
Or royalty of blood. Yet why my friend
Should warn me thus to keep aloof. Some spell
Or danger lurks within. I have it! Fiends!
The veil is drawn at last! O stupid, numb'd
To sense! O for a long and quiet sleep!
Unvisited by dreams!
O for the wings of eagles to escape
This odious scene, and the detested truth
That rushes on my sense—pursues my steps
With harpy stings. Madness were ease to this!
I then was call'd for home, to cloak her shame.—
The foul adult'ress! lest the swelling crime
Should force discovery 'ere the camp allows
A regular return. Oh, Adriel,
Would thou hadst kept the secret! Yet I thank thee—
Thank thee—for frenzy—madness. Yet I'm calm!
I will collect myself! Ah now I know,
Too well I know thy kind assiduous care,
To lure me from the soul-corroding scene
To fairy strains of popular applause!—
Yet I will keep my post—besiege the court
Till day succeeds to night, and night to day.
Well am I us'd to watching, care and toil,
In Israel's cause; and in my sov'reign's ear,
Even in his dreams, I'll hollow for revenge;
And, if I fail, I'll find the way to reach
The nearest to the throne, or shake the seat
Of royalty itself with my appeal.

[Exit Uriah.
Scene changes to an inner Apartment of the Palace.
DAVID.
How all things change, thro' the dark medium seen
Of self-abhorrence, and the gloom of sin!
Yon sun that us'd to lift my mental view
Thro' boundless journies, till his lamp was lost
On the pure limits of eternal day,
Seems but a flickering taper now, that leads
To the licentious bower. Yon quiet groves,
Where, when the day-star, (sunk beneath the deep)
Call'd in his wand'ring glories, when forlorn
The widow'd evening flung her gaudy robes
Aside, and walk'd the woods in graver state,
Sedate and slow; when each dim alley seem'd
To fluctuate with aerial shapes, that mov'd
Celestial measures to the soothing swell
Of the soft breeze, which, thro' the lofty sweep
Of the green theatre, alternate rose,
Alternate sunk, and varied with soft touch
The waving scenery of the pendent gloom!
How did the movements of my soul accord
With the grave minstrelsie! But now, these woods
Put on the pomp of Hades. Whispering fiends
Mock the sweet woodland echoes, till they seem
To sicken at their breath! They line my walks,
Marshall my lonely steps, and, thro' the air,
Hurl their dark spells that check the mounting thought,
And tame the soaring soul to base pursuits,
Like the sad bird that skims the mantled pool
When humid vapours clog his weary wings.

To him, ONIAH.
[ONIAH]
Aside.

Oniah.
Pardon, my lord, and, if my tongue offends,
Think it an organ, by the powers above,
Reluctant, in an odious task employ'd!

David.
Whate'er it be, with confidence declare
Thy message; I must learn to bear the worst.
What has been, has been, nor can fate recall
The deeds of yesterday, the deep remorse
Of years to come!

Oniah.
Whatever is to come,
Heaven tells not. All her oracles are dumb
To thy enquiries.

David.
In the people's voice,
Perhaps, it speaks too plain! That awful organ
Is often touch'd by Heaven. Did Zadok give
No answer?

Oniah.
What he said, I shall report
Most truly—when I pray'd him to apply
For counsel to th'eternal majesty
That dwells between the cherubim—I dare not,
Was his abrupt reply. “I saw last night
“An awful vision sent from him, who lives
“For ever. In the holiest place of all
“Methought I stood, and saw the heavenly lamp
“Burn ominously dim, all mute and sad
“Seem'd the attendant choir, the warbled hymn
“Paus'd on a sudden, and their startled looks
“Were all bent upward, with expectance dread
“Of some descending terrour from above
“Clad in empyreal glory; when anon
“Like light'ning it appear'd, and quick was gone—
“And all was desolate and dark, forlorn
“And silent; but the flash forerun the storm
“Soon rose below a tempest of misrule
“And various clamour, like the winds of Heaven
“That lash th'insurgent waves,—the dread result
“To me is all unknown, nor Heaven vouchsafes
“By oracle or Urim to unfold
“His will at large.”

David.
I only wish'd to know
If by th'expulsion of a man, involv'd
In tenfold guilt, I might, in part, appease
Heaven's anger, which against me seems to burn!
This is denied—and yet—the voice within
Tells what the vision meant, too plain—but still
The sanction of the prophet was requir'd—
—Was Nathan found at last?

Oniah.
Long was the search
And hopeless, till at last we trac'd him on
To Moreh's hill; with hasty march he strode
To the tall summit, which o'erlooks the vale
Of Hinnom, where the dark flood finds below
His gulfy way, then looking back, he cast
An angry glance, “Yon city soon shall pour
“Her worst abominations forth in vain—
“Other abominations shall succeed!”
“Loud in the breeze I hear the birds of prey
“I see them hover o'er yon hated roof
“Then westward wing their way, till Ephraim's wood
“Presents an unexpected feast,” no more
He deign'd, but plung'd amid the forest gloom
Inscrutable to eyes profane, where still
He shuns all human converse.

David
to Oniah, who retires.
To Oniah.