Davideis :: :: University of Virginia Library

I sing the life of David, Israel's king!
Assist, thou sacred Pow'r who didst him bring
From the sheepfold, and set him on the throne,
Thee I invoke, on thee rely alone;
Breathe on my muse, and fill her slender quill,
With thy refreshing dews from Hermon hill,
That what she sings, may turn unto thy praise,
And to thy Name may lasting trophies raise.

After King Saul had, by the sin he wrought
In Amalek, divine displeasure brought
Upon himself, and so the Lord provok'd,
Though his offence he with religion cloak'd,
That God of his promotion did repent,
And, in decree, the kingdom from him rent.

Whilst the good Prophet on his mournful string,
Bewail'd the destin'd downfal of the king,
God to him did his sacred herald call,
Sam'el, by whom he had anointed Saul,
And said, How long for Saul dost mean to mourn?
Up, quickly fill with sacring oil thy horn;
To Bethlemitish Jesse I intend,
Thee, on a special errand strait to send,
For I among his sons provided have
A king who shall my people rule and save.

Though to the Prophet it was fully known,
That God had Saul determin'd to dethrone,
And raise another; for himself did bring
From God th'unwelcome sentence to the king;)
Yet did this dang'rous errand him surprise;
And smit with fear, How can I go! he cries;
If jealous Saul should of the bus'ness hear,
My head must pay for mine offence I fear.
The Lord, a gracious Master, fully knew
The Prophet's heart was firm, upright and true;
And that his fear from frailty did arise,
A fair expedient for him did devise.
Go, go, said he, an heifer with thee take,
And say, I come a sacrifice to make
Unto the Lord: Call Jesse thereunto,
And I will then direct thee what to do;
Go, entertain no fear but fear of me,
And him anoint whom I shall shew to thee.

Away went Samuel. And, to Bethl'em come,
Conven'd the elders of the place, on whom

A trembling fell, a dreadful panic fear,
Lest some great ill had drawn the Prophet there;
Wherefore they ask'd him, If he came in peace?
He answering, Yes; their fears did quickly cease.
He told them then, he came to hold a feast
Unto the Lord, that love might be increas'd
Among them. Bid them haste, and sanctify
Themselves, that to the feast they might draw nigh.

Then unto Jesse's house the Prophet went,
Upon his special errand most intent.
Amongst his sons when Eliab he espy'd,
This must be he, within himself he cry'd;
For Eliab was the eldest, stout and tall,
A fit successor he might think for Saul;
He therefore said, surely, ‘the Lord's anointed
‘Is now before him;’ this hath he appointed.

But God thus check'd him. Look not at the face
Nor outward stature; but the inward grace:
I view not man like man; th'external part
He looks upon, but I regard the heart.
The Prophet thus instructed, now no more
Consults weak reason as he did before;
But when Old Jesse had before him set
Sev'n of his sons, all proper persons, yet
The prophet to his guide now keeping close,
Told him the Lord had chosen none of those.

Sure these are not thy all, the Prophet cry'd;
No, one there still remains, old Jess' reply'd,

My youngest son, my shepherd's place he fills,
And tends his fleecy charge on distant hills.
Send, fetch him, said the Prophet, quickly home,
For we will not sit down until he come.

A speedy messenger for David flies,
And brings the sprightly youth before their eyes,
A rosy bloom adorn'd his comely face,
Sweet to behold, and manly with a grace;
Before the Prophet, Jesse makes him stand,
The Prophet soon received the Lord's command,
‘Arise, anoint the youth, for this is he;’
And Samuel strait approach'd with bended knee,
Assum'd his horn, and on young David's head,
The consecrating oil did freely shed.

From that day forward upon David came,
The Spirit of the Lord; which might proclaim,
To well discerning eyes his unction, as
Of Saul's rejection a sure token 'twas,
That the good spirit did from him depart,
And to an evil spirit left his heart.

This evil spirit from the Lord is said,
On Saul to come, and it such trouble made
To Saul and all his servants, that they thought
The best expedient was, there should be sought
Some skilful man, who on his harp might play,
And drive that spirit, for the time away.
This they propose. He shews a ready mind
To try it, bids them such an harper find.

One mention'd David, whom he thus set forth,
A cunning player, and a man of worth;
Valiant and wise; a comely person; one
To whom the Lord had special favour shown.

This pleased Saul; to Jesse strait he sent
To fetch young David; David quickly went,
A tender kid the chearful youth did bring,
With bread and wine, a present for the king.

His office is assigned him to stand
Before the King, and with a skilful hand,
When Saul was troubled, on his harp to play,
And when he play'd, the sp'rit was drove away.

This made him dear to Saul; Saul quickly found,
The benefit which did to him redound
From the sweet harper's music; for the sake
Whereof he did him armour-bearer make:
A martial office 'twas, to bear the shield
Of Saul, when he should march into the field;
Which shews, he found the youth as well could wield
His arms (a lance or spear, and massy shield)
And thereby, if occasion were, defend
His person, and in need, due succour lend;
As softly strike upon the tuneful string,
And by harmonious lays relieve the king.
Unwilling therefore David should return,
Lest he his absence might have cause to mourn,
He sent again to Jesse to request,
That with his leave, he might be longer blest

With David's service, that he might be freed
From his affliction: Jesse soon agreed.

CHAP. II.

While Saul yet reign'd (altho' by God rejected,
Because he had the Lord's command neglected)
The bold Philistians with a mighty host,
Made an invasion upon Judah's coast;
Whom to repel, when Saul the danger knew,
The men of Isr'el he together drew.

Upon two hills the war-like camps were seen,
A valley lying in the midst between;
Each army standing in battalia rang'd,
Before a blow on either side was chang'd,
From the Philistian camp, a champion bold
Came proudly daring, dreadful to behold;
Upon his scowling brow sate fuming wrath,
His name Goliah, and his city Gath;
In height he was six cubits and a span,
In truth, a monster rather than a man;
He on his head a brazen helmet ware,
Too great for any head but his to bear,
And in a coat of mail he was array'd,
That of fine brass five thousand shekels weigh'd;
His shoulders did a brazen target bear,
And on his legs he greaves of brass did wear,

The staff too of his spear full well might seem,
For bigness to have been a weaver's beam,
The head whereof alone ('tis strange to say)
Six hundred shekels did of iron weigh;
Before him went his squire who bore his shield,
Too huge for any but himself to wield.

Advancing forward tow'rds the camp of Saul,
To Israel's armies he aloud did call,
And to this purpose spake, ‘What need ye try
‘The fortune of a battle? Am not I,
‘A Philistine? You, servants unto Saul?
‘Choose you a man, the stoutest of you all;
‘If he be able me in fight to slay,
‘Then we henceforth will your commands obey;
‘But if in single combat I prevail,
‘And kill him, you to serve us shall not fail:
‘Come, shew your courage, let it now appear,
‘Ye have at least one man that's void of fear:
‘All Israel's armies, I this day defy,
‘Give me a man that may my prowess try.’

Thus forty days together did he brave
The Israelites, yet none an answer gave,
For Saul himself was dreadfully afraid,
And the whole host of Israel sore dismay'd.

While thus this son of earth did proudly vaunt,
And with his looks, an host of Hebrews daunt,
It so fell out, or rather God so wrought,
That little David to the camp was brought;

David, old Jesse's son, the Ephrathite,
Fitter in shew to follow sheep than fight.

Sev'n other son's had Jesse, eight in all,
The eldest three were serving under Saul;
To see how well they far'd, and how things went,
The good old man, his youngest, David sent,
Not empty handed. David early rose,
And to the camp with victuals laded goes,
Yet not without providing one to keep,
'Till he return'd, his father's flock of sheep.

Just as the host to fight was going out,
And for the signal, did to battle shout,
Came David to the trench; with haste he ran,
To find his brethren e'er the fight began,
And as with them he talking stood, anon
Came forth the Philistine's bold champion,
Enclos'd in brass, and with an hideous cry,
Denounc'd his challenge then as formerly;
At sight of whom, a sight that carried dread,
The men of Israel to their trenches fled.

No sooner heard young David the defy,
But brave disdain did sparkle in his eye,
His mettle rose, his breast with courage swell'd,
He scarce himself from falling on withheld;
That Spirit which, from God upon him came,
At his anointing, now doth more inflame
His heart with holy zeal, and doth him bear,
Above the sense of danger and of fear;

He could not brook, that one uncircumcis'd,
Defying Isr'el, should go unchastis'd;
He talk'd with one, he turn'd him to another,
Not daunted with the chidings of his brother;
He let them both by word and gesture know,
He durst against the great Goliah go.

The rumour of him reach'd the royal tent,
And from the king a messenger was sent,
To bring him to him. In he nimbly stept,
And said, O king, the challenge I accept;
Let no man's courage fail, for in the might
Of God, I with this Philistine will fight.

Alas! said Saul, when he observ'd the lad,
A shepherd-swain, all in sheep's russet clad,
To fight with him thou art too weak by far,
Thou but a youth, and he a man of war.
Cast fear away, O king, the youth reply'd,
He's strong who has th'Almighty on his side;
I fear the God of Isr'el, and have found,
Young tho' I am, his strength in need abound;
Thy servant slew a lion, and a bear,
That from my father's flock a lamb did tear,
And since this Philistine, hath in his pride,
The armies of the living God defy'd,
Th'uncircumcised wretch no more shall be,
Than was the lion or the bear to me;
The Lord, who from the bear's and lion's paw,
Did me preserve because I lov'd his law,
Will, I believe, as in his fear I stand,
Preserve me safe from this great giant's hand.

The king amaz'd, yet glad withal to find,
In such a straight so well resolv'd a mind,
Gives his consent, and prays the Lord to bless,
His little combatant with great success:
Himself, with his own armour David arms,
To render him the more secure from harms,
Upon his head an helmet he doth put
Of massy brass, through which no sword could cut,
Then loads him also with a coat of mail,
Which, having oft been try'd, did never fail;
On this array, his sword did David gird,
And then assay'd to go; but when he stirr'd,
He too unweildly was, he found to move.
Nor durst he fight in arms he did not prove;
Saul's armour therefore David did refuse,
‘Who fight for God, must not man's weapons use:’
Saul's armour therefore leaving in his tent,
He took his trusty staff, and out he went,
His sling in t'other hand; and as he goes,
He five smooth stones out of the valley chose,
Opens his scrip, and puts the stones therein,
And then draws near unto the Philistin.

The giant rolling round his staring eyes,
At length the little Hebrew coming spies,
At whom his haughty breast with scorn did swell,
And with such words as these he on him fell:

‘Am I a dog, thou despicable boy,
‘That thou attempts me thus with staves t'annoy?
‘Come hither, sirrah, and thy flesh for meat,
‘I'll give unto the fowls and beasts to eat.’

Then by his gods (what could he mention worse?)
He belches out an execrable curse,
So loud as if he meant the vale to shake,
And cause the savage beasts themselves to quake.

When he had ended, David did begin,
And answer'd thus the haughty Philistin:—

‘Thou com'st to me with sword, and shield, and spear,
‘But I to thee, come in the name and fear
‘Of God the Lord of hosts, by thee defy'd,
‘The God of Isr'el, to chastise thy pride;
‘This day, I trust, into my hand he'll give
‘Thy sever'd head, no longer shalt thou live;
‘Of all your host, the carcases this day,
‘Shall to the fowls and beasts be made a prey,
‘That all who on the spacious earth do dwell,
‘May know there is a God in Israel;
‘And to this whole assembly 't shall appear,
‘That not by sword the Lord doth save, nor spear;
‘The Lord our God, the battle doth command,
‘And he will give you up into our hand.’

So spake th'undaunted youth. And at that word,
Th'enraged giant was so throughly stirr'd,
That forth he step'd, and lifting up his spear,
With direful threats to David he drew near.
To meet him David still advanc'd as fast,
And from his sling a stone he swiftly cast,
So rightly aim'd, and with a force so strong,
It pierc'd his brain, and fell'd him all along:

Prostrate he sprawling lay, the bruised earth,
Receiv'd with trembling her gigantic birth.
No sooner David this advantage spies,
But o'er the vale, he like the light'ning flies:
While stretch'd upon the ground the monster lay,
Like some great mole of earth, or bank of clay,
The nimble victor laying by his sling,
Did on his massy shoulders lightly spring,
Where standing, forth the giant's sword he drew,
And therewith did his neck asunder hew.

Thus with a sling and stone did David smite,
And slay Goliah in a single fight.
O dext'rous slinger, who the prize might win,
From the left-handed sons of Benjamin!
Nay, rather let the praise to him alone
Ascribed be, who guided hand and stone!

The challenge answer'd thus, the conquest won,
In sight of both the armies looking on,
The monster's head still reeking in its gore,
In triumph then victorious David bore.

Him thus returning, captain Abner meets,
Embraces and affectionately greets;
Extols his fearless valour to the sky,
And gratulates his happy victory.

By him conducted to the royal tent,
To Saul he doth Goliah's head present.

Mean while the Philistins, their champion dead,
With terror struck, in great disorder fled;
The Hebrews shouting, eagerly pursue,
And of them kill'd and wounded not a few.
Thus the proud Philistins the Lord did quell,
And wrought deliv'rance for his Israel.

Judges xx. 16.

CHAP. III.

A SON had Saul, whose name was Jonathan,
A brave young Prince, and a courageous man,
He present was, when David to the King,
The trophy of his victory did bring,
And well observing David's speech and mein,
The like to which before he'd scarcely seen,
Such love to David touch'd his princely heart,
It soon produc'd in him an equal part;
A noble friendship hence between them grew,
And which was most affected neither knew.

A solemn covenant between them pass'd,
A friendship that beyond the grave should last.
The noble prince did of his robe divest
Himself, and David to accept it press'd,
His garments he on David did bestow,
Ev'n to his sword, his girdle, and his bow.
Which presents David did with thanks accept,
Pledges of friendship to be firmly kept.

In high esteem and favour with the King,
This glorious victory did David bring;
A courtier now the shepherd is become,
The King him not permitting to go home;
Advanc'd he is unto an high degree
Of honour, none so great with Saul as he;
Over the men of war the King him set
Wherein his wise behaviour did him get
The love of all the people, and of all
The courtiers too: a thing doth rarely fall.
Now honours on him wait, and for a while,
Indulgent fortune doth upon him smile;
In him both court and country take delight,
At once the King's and people's favourite.

But oh! how slippery are princes courts,
Where fickle fortune with poor mortals sports!
And by alluring baits doth them entice,
To trust themselves upon the glazed ice,
Then on a sudden, e'er they are aware,
Trips up their heels, and leaves them grov'ling there;
The wheel whereon she doth her creatures raise
Is in continual motion, never stays,
But always whirls about: who sit a-top
To-day, to-morrow to the bottom drop.

How ticklish is a favourite's estate,
Who must upon another's humour wait,
And when he apprehends he stands most fast,
Is puffed down with an inconstant blast!
If he the prince's creature seems to be,
He hardly 'scapes the people's obliquie,

All their mishaps to his account they score,
And lay their disappointments at his door.
If in the peoples favour he appears,
The prince then is, or seems to be in fears,
And that too popular he may not grow,
Seeks all occasions how to lay him low.
So David found. The people sing his praise;
And that, in worthless Saul doth envy raise.

It so fell out, that now the coasts were clear
From Philistins, and peoples minds from fear,
The Hebrew dames, from all the cities round,
With instruments of most melodious sound,
Came tripping out, and all along the way,
Upon the well-tun'd strings did sweetly play;
Their fingers play'd, their nimble feet did dance,
For joy of their much-wish'd deliverance.

Together thus they come to meet the King,
And in his ears this Epinicion sing,
[Saul hath (of enemies) his thousands slain,
And David his ten thousands] with disdain
The King this heard; it made his colour rise,
And his displeasure sparkled in his eyes.

While thus the women in their tuneful chore,
Him faintly praise, and David ten times more,
The evil spirit, an envenom'd dart
Let fly, and lodg'd it in his thoughtful heart;
The poison wrought, and in a trice possess'd,
With soul-tormenting jealousies his breast;

Suspicion and distrust in him it bred,
And with surmisings fill'd his troubled head,
He swell'd and champ't; at length his discontent,
Did thus itself in angry accents vent.

To David they ascribed have, said he,
Ten thousands; and but thousands unto me,
Thus they prefer my vassal me before,
And, but the kingdom, what can he have more?

Hence Saul on David kept an evil eye,
And to have slain him divers times did try,
Ev'n while good David on his harp did play,
Th'affliction of his spirit to allay;
But David's God (who had King Saul rejected,
And chosen David) David still protected.

When Saul perceiv'd (for even wicked men,
Have sights of God's outgoings now and then)
That God did prosper David, and did move
The hearts of all the people him to love,
He daily grew of David more afraid,
And studied how he might be best betray'd.

Two daughters had king Saul. A stately dame
The elder was, and Merab was her name;
A topping lady she, whose lofty look,
Shew'd that she nothing that was low could brook;
Commanding pow'r reign'd in her sparkling eye,
And on her brow sate awful majesty;
A sprightly vigour fill'd her manly face,
Which yet was not without a pleasing grace;

And had her breast been hid, she might have gone
Among the warriors for an Amazon.
So look'd Penth'silea, when she came
To Priam's succour. Such another dame
Was she, who durst engage in single fight
With Theseus, the warlike Hippolite.

Unlike herself, a sister Merab had,
The joy and grief of many a noble lad,
Fair Michal she was call'd, whose lovely face,
No feature wanted that could add a grace;
Her body delicate, wherein enshrin'd,
As in its temple, dwelt a virtuous mind;
Engaging sweetness beamed from her eye,
And on her cheek sate maiden modesty;
Her courteous mein gave proof to all that she
From pride and haughtiness of mind was free,
For of the meanest she would notice take,
Her whole converse, humility bespake;
So graceful was her gesture, it did move
At once beholders to admire and love.

These were Saul's daughters; and by these the King
Ruin on David did design to bring,
By one of these he hoped to prevail,
If all his other stratagems should fail.
One of these princesses had promis'd been,
To whoso'er should kill the Philistin,
Which David having done, might justly claim
One; but the King had power which to name,
He therefore Merab first assign'd to be,
The guerdon of young David's victory;

But when the time approach'd, he chang'd his mind,
And her unto another's bed consign'd.
But Michal's lovely, Michal's virgin love,
In strong desires did unto David move;
This so rejoic'd her envious Father's ear,
He said, I'll give her to him for a snare.

His servants he instructed how to draw,
David to yield to be his son-in-law;
They tell him what delight in him the King
Did take; what honour it to him would bring,
To be unto his sovereign ally'd,
Besides th'enjoyment of so fair a bride.

When he himself excus'd upon the score,
His family was low, himself too poor,
Out of his slender fortunes to advance,
So large a dowry as the King perchance,
Might look to have (for women then were thought,
It seems of worth sufficient to be bought.)
Th'instructed courtiers presently reply'd,
The King no dowry doth desire beside
An hundred fore-skins of his enemies
The Philistins; that dowry will suffice.

This was the snare the treach'rous King did lay,
His well-deserving David to betray.
Ungrateful Prince! though David him had freed
From danger, when he made Goliah bleed;
Yet on set-purpose he this dowry chose,
That he to danger David might expose;

He knew the valiant youth's advent'rous mind,
The greatest hazards never had declin'd,
And by proposing this, he did intend,
David to bring to an untimely end.

'Twas not ambition to be son-in-law
Unto a king, did humble David draw,
Michal's fresh beauty and affection move,
In youthful David like returns of love;
And when he heard what dowry Saul propos'd,
He gladly with the proposition clos'd,
The maid he lik'd (as who indeed could choose)
The terms he lik'd; what was there to refuse?
For though he should not Michal thereby gain,
He gladly would the Philistins have slain.

Up with his men he in the morning gets,
And on the Philistins so briskly sets,
That tho' with all the speed they could they fled,
He laid at least two hundred of them dead,
Whose fore-skins he unto the court did bring,
And gave a double dowry to the King.

Ill-pleas'd was Saul, that what he did project
For David's ruin, wrought not that effect;
Had David's head been lifeless brought, that sight
Would to his eyes have yielded more delight;
Yet, since it would not further his design,
To manifest displeasure and repine,
He held it best his promise good to make,
And David for his son-in-law to take;

Concealing therefore for a little while,
His hatred under a dissembled smile,
He of true gladness made a feigned show,
And Michal upon David did bestow.
The marriage-rites perform'd, the shepherd's led,
With nuptial songs to princess Michal's bed;
Where leaving them in amorous embraces,
My muse their father's machinations traces.

CHAP. IV.

NOT fully were the princely nuptials o'er,
Not fully bride and bridegroom joy'd, before
Invidious fame by a confirm'd report,
Disturb'd the pleasures of the peaceful court.

The Philistins again had took the field;
The viol now must to the clarion yield,
David to field must go; the trumpet sounds,
To bid the Philistins prepare for wounds.
Saul's hope revives, that some Philistian spear,
Will rid him both of David and his fear;
To lose a battle would not trouble Saul,
So he might lose his son-in-law withal;
But, to his trouble, David from the war
Return'd with conquest, and without a scar,
And, to torment him more, each enterprize
Rais'd David higher in the peoples eyes.

'Till now a secret hope restrained Saul,
That David by the Philistins would fall,
But having by repeated trials found,
That David still return'd without a wound;
Grown desperate and impatient of delay,
He bid his son and servants David slay.

Surpriz'd, the courtiers on each other gaze,
As men whom sudden horror doth amaze;
None undertakes the work, all silent stand,
Fill'd with abhorrence of the King's command.
They could not without much reluctance hear,
His death decreed, who was to them so dear;
Nor could the King a man amongst them gain,
That would with David's blood a finger stain.

But Jonathan, whose deeper rooted love,
Did with a stronger spring to David move,
Was not content barely to hold his hand,
From executing that unjust command,
Unless his utmost pow'r he also bent,
His brother David's ruin to prevent.

Leaving his father therefore, out he goes,
His father's wicked counsels to disclose
To David; but, when unto him he came
Ah! how confus'd he was 'twixt grief and shame;
He griev'd to find his friend so near death's jaws,
And blush'd to think his father was the cause;
Shame made him loth his father's fault to speak,
But friendship prompted the design to break:

Friendship prevail'd, and with a downcast eye,
He made him understand the danger nigh.

Not more was David troubled when he heard,
What he before suspected not nor fear'd,
Than overjoy'd in Jonathan to find,
So true a friendship and so brave a mind;
And in the most endearing terms he shew'd,
His hearty sense thereof and gratitude.

Then sitting down together, they concert,
How they may best the impending storm avert;
It was agreed, that David should abide
In secret, until Jonathan had try'd
His father's temper, that he so might find,
How deep th'offence was rooted in his mind.

They part, and David doth himself withdraw,
To court goes Jonathan; with filial awe,
And humble stile he David's cause did plead,
And with his father thus doth intercede.

‘Let not the King against his servant sin,
‘Whose works to thee-wards ever good have been,
‘His life, thou know'st, he in his hand did put,
‘And great Goliah's head he off did cut,
‘The monstrous Philistin by David fell,
‘A great salvation to all Israel,
‘The Lord by him did work; thou didst it see,
‘And didst therein rejoice as well as we.
‘Why wilt thou David slay without a cause,
‘Who is in all things subject to thy laws?

‘O draw not on thyself the heavy guilt,
‘That waits on guiltless blood unjustly spilt!
‘Pardon, most honour'd father, I beseech,
‘My boldness and the freedom of my speech;
‘It is for David that I humbly sue,
‘David who doth thine enemies subdue;
‘Let me prevail, thine anger pray withdraw,
‘From both my brother and thy son-in-law.’

So well did Jonathan discharge his part,
So well he us'd the oratorian art,
That he prevail'd; the King revers'd his doom,
The father by the son was overcome:
And that there might no ground for fear remain,
He gave his oath, David should not be slain.
On which assurance, Jonathan did bring
David to wait again upon the king;
His place in court he takes, and for a space,
He stands as formerly in seeming grace.

But 'twas not long, before the cursed root
Of envy did again begin to shoot,
And jealous Saul a fresh occasion took,
On David with an evil eye to look.
The restless Philistins, the land again
Invaded had; whom David to restrain,
His men led forth, and with such fury flew
Upon them, that he their main body slew;
Great was the slaughter his revengeful blade,
Upon the Philistins at that time made,
That had not some secur'd themselves by flight,
The host of Philistins had perish'd quite.

So great a victory, 'twas thought by all,
Would have endeared David unto Saul,
And 'twas but reasonable to expect,
So good a cause should yield a good effect;
But on the other hand, he David more
Maligned now than e'er he did before;
He saw that David, daily more became
The peoples darling, and he thought his aim
Was at the crown; he let in a surmise,
That David one day would against him rise;
He recollected what the prophet said
Of his rejection; and he was afraid,
David would prove that neighbour, unto whom
The kingdom, rent from him, in time should come;
He saw that God did eminently bless,
All David's undertakings with success;
That David was unto the people dear,
He also saw, and that encreas'd his fear;
He thought withal, that David did improve,
By all the arts he could, the peoples love,
That having gain'd a pow'rful interest,
He might by force the sceptre from him wrest;
These restless workings of his troubl'd head,
Perplexing thoughts and terrors in him bred;
At length he was with apprehensions fill'd,
That he himself by David should be kill'd.

How miserable is the state of those,
Whom blind suspicion doth to fear expose!

Death hath less terror in it. Who can find
A torment equal to a jealous mind?

When Saul this apprehension in had let,
His passions all were in a ferment set;
Fear, anger, envy, madness, vengeful hate,
Did boil together and incorporate
In his foul breast; yet so, that bloodless fear,
Did in his face predominant appear.
Those other passions ready were to invent,
New kinds of tortures David to torment;
Bur fear o'er-rul'd, insinuating he
By David's death, himself from death might free,
And that it must be by a sudden stroke,
Lest David should the peoples help invoke,
And they by force him rescue. Thus again,
Is guiltless David destin'd to be slain,
By secret sentence in the king's own heart,
Which he resolv'd he would to none impart,
For he no more would trust to friend or foe,
But his own hand should give the fatal blow.

1 Sam. xv. 28.

CHAP. V.

When thus the king had David's death design'd,
The faithful chief, whose uncorrupted mind,
Was never tainted with disloyal stain,
Return'd from battle to the court again,

And, as a proof of victory, did bring
Of-spoils, a chosen present to the king.

How easily is innocence betray'd,
When under shews of kindness snares are laid!
No apprehension had the guiltless youth
Of danger, arm'd with probity and truth,
He such an inoffensive mind did bear,
As kept him free from all suspicious fear;
With confidence unto the king he goes,
(For confidence from innocency flows)
And doth in order unto him relate,
The battle and his army's present state.

The crafty king too, at the first congress,
No token of displeasure did express,
But under outside kindness, inward hate
Concealing, did a fitter season wait
To execute his purpose, that the blow
Might be secure, which should his anger show.

Nor did he long for an occasion wait,
But in a while, as in his house he sate,
The evil spirit from the Lord (for God
Makes use of evil spirits as a rod)
Upon him came, his jav'lin in his hand,
And David playing on his harp did stand
Before him, with refreshing tunes t'allay
His grief, and th'evil spirit drive away.

So kind an office, sure one might have thought,
Upon the worst of natures would have wrought,

And hindred even the most savage mind,
From perpetrating what he had design'd;
But Saul, now hard'ned to a brutish rage,
Beyond the force of harmony t'assuage,
Thinking he now had sure advantage got,
To strike the stroke when David ey'd him not,
His jav'lin at him with such fury cast,
That had it hit, that hour had been his last;
But who the kingdom unto David gave,
Did David now from threaten'd danger save.

The russ'ling of Saul's garment, when on high
He rais'd his arm to let the jav'lin fly,
Made David look, and nimbly slip aside,
While the sharp-pointed shaft did by him glide,
Which, whirling by, with such a force did fall,
That fast it stuck upon the adverse wall.

'Twas time for David warning now to take,
And for his safety due provision make;
His person now he could no longer trust,
With one that neither grateful was nor just;
One whom no services could render kind,
Nor the most solemn promises could bind;
One who to gratify his groundless hate,
Stuck not his sacred oath to violate;
With such an one it was not safe to stay,
While therefore safe he was, he went away,
The treach'rous court he speedily forsook,
And to his private house himself betook,
His faithful wife acquainting with the case,
Her father's falsehood, and his own disgrace.

Mean-while the wrathful king, whose hot desire,
Of David's death, had set him all on fire,
Vex'd that his russ'ling robe that warning gave
To David, from the stroke himself to save,
And fearing lest, if now he got away,
He might the wrong revenge another day;
All in a rage, he certain of his guard,
Whose surly looks bespake their natures hard,
Unto him call'd, and charg'd them to rapair,
Forthwith to David's house and slay him there.

With downcast looks the troubled guards receive,
The unexpected charge, the court they leave,
And lest they should for backwardness be check'd,
To David's house their heavy steps direct;
There make a stand, and set a private watch,
That David stepping out they might dispatch.

But loyal Michal, whose mistrustful eye,
Had all the ways survey'd, did them descry,
And told her husband, if he should remain
In's house till morning, he would then be slain,
Then through a lattice did direct his eye,
To th'place where the insidious guards did lie.

The sight of these, and sense for what they came,
Did his advent'rous courage so inflame,
That had not Michal weeping on him hung,
He boldly had himself among them flung
With sword in hand; but Michal's moving tears,
Wrought him to listen to her pressing fears.

Together thereupon they counsel take,
What means are best his safe escape to make;
Love shews the way; fair Michal doth propose,
And David won by her, doth therewith close.

When darkness had the place of light possess'd,
And drowsy sleep had mortals laid to rest;
When through the sable clouds no star appear'd,
No warlike sound, no busy noise was heard,
Then Michal, who had all things ready got,
Needful to carry on the harmless plot,
Having her dearest David oft embrac'd,
While he encircled with his arms her waist
Did through a window gently let him down,
And softly said, live David for the Crown;
May God thee keep, and bring thee safe again
Unto thy Michal; he reply'd, Amen.
Then with a sigh she did the window close,
Her sigh he eccho'd, and away he goes.

CHAP. VI.

Now travels David in a mournful plight,
Beneath the covert of a darksome night,
And Gibeah left, himself he recommends
To God's protection, and to Ramah bends
His wand'ring course; at Ramah then did dwell,
His cordial friend, the prophet Samuel.

Arriv'd, he to the Prophet opens all
The wrongs which he sustained had from Saul,
How he his life had sought, he doth relate,
And much laments his own unhappy state.

The good old man doth David's case bewail,
And that his spirit might not sink or fail,
Doth him encourage in the Lord to trust,
Whom he had found both merciful and just.
He wish'd him call to mind the oil was shed,
At Bethlehem upon his youthful head,
By God's command; that being so anointed,
He to the kingdom was by God appointed,
Who through his troubles would him still preserve
From hurt, if he from God did never swerve.
Advis'd him therefore not to let in fear,
How great soe'er his perils might appear;
But trust in God, who never will forsake
The wrong'd, who him for their Protector take.
David thus strength'ned; he and Samuel
To Najoth go, and there together dwell.

Mean-while, with eager eyes th'impatient king,
Look'd every moment when his guards would bring
The head of David; in at length they come;
And tell him, David's sick a bed at home;
For with that shift, when they the door drew nigh,
And ask'd for David, Michal put them by,
Having an image placed in his bed,
With goat's hair pillow laid, as 'twere his head.

With furrow'd brows, and countenance severe,
The disappointed King his guards did hear,
With sharp reproaches blam'd their negligence,
And sent them back, with speed to bring him thence.
Go, fetch him bed and all, without delay,
Said he, that I myself the wretch may slay.

They go. But oh! the rage that in him burn'd,
And at his nostrils fum'd when they return'd,
And brought him word, that David being fled,
They found an image only in his bed;
How did he rage and storm! incens'd the more
At this escape than e'er he was before;
Inflam'd to think, that by a woman's wile,
His daughter Michal should him thus beguile;
His passion heighten'd, that his troops should let
His hated son have time away to get;
But that which most of all disturb'd his mind,
Was that he David knew not where to find;
And foul he would have fell, it might be fear'd,
Upon his guards, had he not timely heard,
That David, in the dark, to Najoth slid,
And there himself among the prophets hid.

Forthwith to Najoth messengers he sent,
To fetch him thence; away with speed they went:
But here the Lord himself doth interpose
To save his David from approaching foes;
For when they to the prophets school were come,
And saw the company of prophets; some
Then prophesying, all the rest attent,
And Sam'el standing o'er as president,

They could not David touch; but on them all,
Who were to apprehend him sent by Saul,
A spirit came from God, and they began
To prophesy in order man for man.

Thrice did this stubborn king this course repeat,
And thrice did God his base intent defeat;
No sooner came his messengers among
The prophets, but prophetic notes they sung.
Gall'd with these disappointments, th'angry king,
Whom envy, fear, and jealousy did sting,
Resolves in person he'll to Najoth go,
And once more try what he himself can do;
Forward he sets, and subt'lly as he went,
Contriv'd how he might David circumvent;
But er'e he got to Najoth, on him fell
A spirit from the Lord; and he, as well
As they whom he before had sent, began
To prophesy, and prophesying ran
To Najoth, where, at sight of Samuel,
First stripping off his cloaths, he prostrate fell
Upon the ground, and in that rueful plight
Lay naked all that day, and all that night.
Whence a proverbial speech it grew to be,
When in religious company we see
An impious man affect a saintly shew,
“Is Saul among the pious prophets too.”

How admirable are the ways of God,
Whether his staff he uses, or his rod!
The first of these his fainting ones doth stay,
The last doth them correct that run astray;

Who would not that resistless being fear,
Who eas'ly thus, can in a moment veer
Our fixt intent? Who would not to that hand
His will submit, that can all wills command?

How resolutely, in an headstrong will,
Did Saul determine he would David kill!
How eagerly did he his will pursue,
His trembling hands in David's blood t'imbrue!
What direful threatnings did he vent, what he
Would do, could he again but David see!
Yet, when he came where David was, we find
That awful pow'r his spirit strait did bind,
He could not David touch; no pow'r he had,
How bad soe'er his will was, to be bad;
But, over-power'd, though evil was his heart,
He was constrain'd to act the prophet's part,
He spake, and did as prophets us'd to do,
Who were inspired by the Lord thereto.

Small odds, perhaps, or none to outward sight,
Distinguish'd this wrong prophet from the right;
Each probably, alike might act and speak,
And be alike regarded by the weak,
The undiscerning crowd, who seldom try,
Beyond the outward ear, and outward eye;
Yet plain it is, that Saul was now no more
By God regarded than he was before
He prophesied when he was among
The prophets, but his spirit still was wrong.

One long before, who Balak taught to lay,
A dang'rous stumbling-block in Israel's way,
A grand exemplar is, that wicked men,
Against their wills, may utter now and then,
Those sacred mysteries which God alone,
Doth by his spirit unto man make known.

What glorious things did Beor's son declare,
Concerning Jacob's seed! how precious are
The prophesies, wherein he did foretel
The beauty, strength, and state of Israel!
What soul refreshing comforts do arise
In pious minds from those sweet prophesies!
And well they may, for God himself had put
Into the prophet's mouth a word, and shut
His divinations out; whereby we know
His speech did from the holy Spirit flow.

Yet this perhaps, of prophets was the worst,
Who for advantage would have Isr'el curs'd,
For which, how well soe'er he spake, he stands
Condemn'd upon record with public brands;
Yet God, to shew his sov'reignty, doth chuse
Sometimes the tongues of such as these to use,
Who, tho' the truths they tell may be believ'd,
Yet are not they themselves to be receiv'd.
Though Balaam did of Jacob's star declare,
“The sword of Isr'el did not Balaam spare;”
Nor is it long er'e prophesying Saul,
Will be oblig'd upon his sword to fall.

May these examples lead us to beware
How we receive such (preach they ne'er so fair)
For gospel ministers; but let us rather
Observe (as he of old). But who's their Father.
For men may glorious truths declare we see,
Yet they the children of the devil be.

Numb. xxiii. and xxiv.

Numb. xxiv. 17.

Ibid. xxxi. 8.

1 Sam. xxxi. 4.

1 Sam. x. 22.

CHAP. VII.

While Saul among the seers enraptur'd lay,
Depriv'd of pow'r to move a foot away,
Good David, who with rev'rence much admir'd
This gracious act of Providence, retir'd,
Lest when the fit was over, angry Saul
Should in displeasure on the prophets fall.

From Najoth therefore, having first advis'd
With rev'rend Sam'el, whom he highly priz'd,
He, undiscern'd, withdrew, and strait did bend
His course to Jonathan, his faithful friend,
Into whose bosom he could freely vent
His sorrows, and his hapless state lament.
What sin of mine has rais'd this cruel strife,
That I, said he, am hunted for my life?

The gentle prince, whose truly noble breast,
Was with a generous compassion blest,
His friend's complaint, his dangers and his fears,
With close but sorrowful attention hears,
And quick returns this short, but kind reply,
Almighty God forbid! “Thou shalt not die:”
And straight endeavours, whatsoe'er he may,
His fears with strong assurance to allay;
He thought his Father nothing would essay,
Without consulting him about the way,
And thereby hop'd it in his pow'r would be,
In case of an attack, his friend to free.

But David, whom experience now had taught,
That both by force and fraud his life was sought,
Judg'd it not safe his person to expose
On such uncertain ticklish grounds as those:
He told his Jonathan, 'twas not unknown,
How firm a friendship was between them grown,
'Twas therefore reasonable to believe
His father hid from him what would him grieve,
Or might perhaps, designedly conceal
His mind from him, lest he should it reveal;
Yet know, said he, as sure as thou hast breath,
There's but a single step 'twixt me and death.

That word, with such an accent David spake,
Impressions deep it could not fail to make
Upon his tender friend; his quick'ned sense,
Like a strong spring new vigour took from thence;
Starting, he said, “From evil may'st thou be,
“My dearest David, and from danger free!

“Which that thou may'st, I'm ready here to do
“Whate'er thou judgest may conduce thereto.”

Then sitting down, they mutual counsel take,
And this conclusion prudently they make,
That Jonathan, his father's mind once more,
At his return from Najoth should explore,
And should accordingly let David know,
If Saul his death designed yet or no.
David, mean-while, did by agreement stay
At Ezel-stone, (a mark that shew'd the way)
Near which, in bushy covert, he might lie
Safe from the view of any passing by.

And now, before their parting leave they took,
A sacred covenant afresh they strook,
A during tye, confirm'd by solemn oath,
A bond inviolable on them both,
Which to their latest offspring should extend,
On either side, and never have an end:
By which a stipulation they did bind
Themselves to be unto each other kind;
That Jonathan should faithfully report
To David how he found affairs at court,
And should his utmost pow'r employ to free
His friend from danger, if he any see.
On t'other hand, That David, when the throne
Of Israel should come to be his own,
Should Jonathan, and all that from him spring,
Secure from danger while himself is king;

For Jonathan, whose deeply piercing eye,
On David's brow did marks of empire spy,
Was wont, with confidence, his friend to tell,
That he should be the king of Israel.

By this time Saul from Najoth was return'd,
With smoother brow; but in his breast still burn'd
Malignant hate, nor did he yet despair
To compass David's death at unaware.

The new-moon now approach'd, and therewithal
Reviv'd the wicked hopes of cruel Saul,
He made no doubt, but at the sacred feast,
He should have zealous David for his guest;
For then it pleas'd him always to admit
David at table with himself to sit,
And then might hope, with more success, to cast
His fatal spear than when he threw it last.

The new-moon being come, and David's seat
Left empty, when the king sate down to meat,
Two days together; Saul began to doubt
It was design'd; and with an angry pout,
“Why cometh not,” said he, “old Jesse's son
“To meat, as he in former times hath done?”

Thus Saul to Jonathan: who, having ey'd
His father's angry countenance, reply'd,
“Since thou art pleas'd the reason to demand
“Of David's absence, please to understand,
“That David unto Beth-lehem is gone,
“On urgent bus'ness (to return anon)

“A yearly sacrifice his brethren hold
“At this time there, as he himself me told,
“To which the family do all repair,
“And David too was summon'd to be there;
“He therefore earnestly of me did crave
“My leave to go, which readily I gave.”

As from the prince's lips these words did fall
A fire of rage enkindled was in Saul
Against his son, which forth in choler brake,
And with a furious accent thus he spake:

“Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman,
“Whose headstrong folly will be rul'd by no man,
“Too well I know that Jesse's son and thee,
“To thy confusion but too well agree;
“Yet thou, 'till he's securely in his grave,
“No kingdom, no establishment can have;
“Send therefore, fetch him, e'er he further fly,
“Make no delay, for he shall surely die.”
These words in such a thund'ring tone he spake,
As seem'd to make the hall he sate in shake.

Griev'd was the princely Jonathan to hear
A sentence so unjust and so severe;
Small hopes he had, yet could not choose but try
His father's stormy mind to pacify,
And to that purpose, in an humble tone,
Ask'd “Why shall David die?—What hath he done?”

As suppl'ing oil, on flaming fire cast,
Instead of quenching, doth augment the blast;

So Jonathan's soft words enkindled more
His wrathful father than he was before;
He nothing said, too full he was to speak,
His stifling choler could not silence break;
But snatching up, with furious haste, his spear,
Which at his hand designedly stood near,
With such a force at Jonathan he threw,
As more than words, his bloody mind did shew.

Altho' the prince the stroke did nimbly shun,
Yet was he greatly mov'd at what was done;
Such gross indignity would stir a man
Of meaner spirits than was Jonathan;
Consid'ring that it was a public shame,
And more, because it from a father came;
The harder too it was for him to bear,
Who was his father's and the kingdom's heir,
Himself long since adult; and which was more,
Had been his father's vice-roy just before;
All which together working in his breast,
Made this abuse uneasy to digest.

From table, therefore, he in heat arose,
And breathing forth displeasure, out he goes,
Then to his own apartment doth retire,
To give free vent to this new kindled fire,
Where falling on his couch, he doth bemoan
Much more his friend's condition than his own.
Respecting what concern'd his late disgrace,
He doubted not, consid'ring men would place
All to his father's passion; and that he
Himself, his passion o'er, would troubled be:

But, ah! his friend, his friend! poor David's case
Did more affect him than his own disgrace.
No longer now doth any thought remain
In Jonathan, that David's fears were vain;
No clearer evidence he now doth need,
That David's death was by the king decreed;
This act of violence, for David's sake,
Both clear'd his doubt, and made his heart to ake.

The tedious night in restless tossings spent,
Betwixt uneasy grief and discontent,
As soon as e'er Aurora did disclose
The springing day, the faithful prince arose;
Both honour and affection did him spur,
And, e'er the lark was stirring, made him stir.
Honour reminds him, that his word he gave
To David; Love said, “Thou must David save;”
Which that he might, he to the field doth go,
(His page his quiver bearing and his bow,
Not knowing why) no otherwise he went,
Than if to recreate himself he meant.

When near the place, where Jesse's son did wait,
The doubtful issue of his doleful fate,
His curved bow with sinew'd arm he drew,
And over David's head the arrows flew;
One flying shaft a private token bore,
Agreed upon between themselves before,
By which poor David understood too well,
What Jonathan unwilling was to tell.

The thoughtless page, who nothing did suspect,
With nimble speed the arrows did collect,
And to his master bring, who did deliver
Unto the lad his unstrung bow and quiver
To carry home; himself remain'd behind,
As if to walk alone he were inclin'd.

The youth now gone, and Jonathan alone,
Strait David issu'd forth by Ezel-stone,
And, falling to the ground, with triple bend
Of body did salute his noble friend;
Then casting arms about each other's neck,
Their pearly tears each other's breast bedeck,
They wept and kiss'd, they kiss'd and wept again;
Nor could they soon those crystal floods restrain,
Each kiss a fresh supply of tears did breed
In both their eyes, till David did exceed;
At length, their covenant renew'd, they part,
Each kindly bearing back the other's heart;
They part, and each doth his own path pursue,
With eyes reflex, while either was in view.

End of the First Book.