 | Dramas, Discourses, and other Pieces |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
The inner apartment of David's sepulchre, filled with treasure: a sarcophagus of Egyptian porphyry standing in the centre. Enter Absalom, Hadad, and Balaam-Haddon, as from another chamber of the tomb. Balaam-Haddon carries a lamp, and a silver vessel for the burning of perfume.B. Hadd.
Behold, my lord, the last and richest! Here,
Nothing but gold of Ophir, pearls, and gems
Of priceless value. How they catch the lamp beams,
And sparkle as I wave it, like the stars
Upon a fitful night of clouds. And lo!
The marble in whose womb he means to sleep.
Ab.
It strikes me dumb—what heaps, what mountain piles!
The pillage of the world were scarce enough
To sum the riches we have gazed upon.
Had.
But whence can he have drawn them? there 's the question.
He has pulled down, indeed, some barbarous thrones,
Made Syria tributary, and brought home
Rich spoil; but in the chambers of this rock
Josephus, speaking of the burial of David, observes:“He had great and immense wealth buried with him, the vastness of which may be easily conjectured at by what I shall now say; for, a thousand and three hundred years afterwards, Hyrcanus the High Priest, when he was besieged by Antiochus that was called the Pious, the son of Demetrius, and was desirous of giving him money to get him to raise the siege, and draw off his army; and having no other method of compassing the money, opened one room of David's sepulchre, and took out three thousand talents, and gave part of that sum to Antiochus, and by this means caused the siege to be raised, as we have informed the reader elsewhere. Nay, after him, and that many years, Herod the King opened another room, and took away a great deal of money; and yet neither of them came at the coffins of the Kings themselves.”—
Antiq. of the Jews, b. 7, ch. 15.The riches left by David, according to the common computation, exceeded eight hundred millions sterling.
Are treasures which the empires of the earth,
United, cannot equal. Whence they come
I'm bent to know. His flocks, and herds, and tilth,
Vineyards, and olive-grounds, and all he draws
Of yearly revenue from all the tribes,
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Shrink to an alms.
Ab.
I know not what to think.
The Mage must answer.
Had.
Balaam-Haddon, speak.
B. Hadd.
If there be power in incantations, spells,
Or potency in stars, or strongest magic,
Or compounds such as these, some one shall answer.
(Places the vessel on the further part of the sarcophagus, heaps drugs upon it, and kindles them by the lamp.)
Stand by me here, my lords:—observe, but speak not.
(A thick smoke rises, which envelopes the remoter part of the tomb: Absalom and Hadad stand with their eyes intently fixed upon it: Balaam-Haddon mutters an incantation, casting, from time to time, perfumes upon the flame. A form becomes dimly visible amidst the smoke; its eyes and countenance sparkling. Absalom continues silently gazing. Balaam-Haddon turns to him.)
Address your questions briefly; when the smoke
Decays, it vanishes.
Ab.
What—who—art thou?
Spirit.
The Genius of the Throne.
Ab.
Servest thou the King?
Spirit.
I serve the Throne, and him who sits thereon.
Ab.
Implying thou mightst serve his son?
Spirit.
If he
Were chief in Jewry.
Ab.
Canst thou make him so?
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No, nor oppose: I have no present power
Upon the blood of David.
Had.
Prince, mark that!
Ab.
Canst thou foresee?—Know'st thou the past?
Spirit.
Dim shadows of the future lie before me,
Like forms in twilight: all things past I know.
Ab.
Then answer, I adjure thee; for to this
Wert thou evoked.—Is Solomon elect
To David's throne?—Has he received the unction?
Spirit.
The kingly oil hath flowed upon his locks.
Had.
Change not, my lord.—What boots a horn of oil
Against that sword, that military arm,
Thy power in Israel?
Ab.
And now I care not—Heaven or Hell to aid,
I'll prove the issue.—Spirit, art thou bound
By ties indissoluble to the King?
Spirit.
I serve the Throne, till thrice three times revolve.
Ab.
Three times—
B. Hadd.
So Spirits reckon; he will not reveal.—
Who bound thee?
Spirit.
Jesse's son.
B. Hadd.
Serv'st thou in love?
Spirit.
No; for he hath not kept his covenant.
Ab.
But shall the son of Bathsheba be King?
Spirit.
He may be, or may not.
Ab.
How know'st thou that?
Spirit.
I read it in thy horoscope.
Ab.
Know'st thou
My destiny?
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I know what may be.
Ab.
Speak,—
Reveal,—I do beseech thee, mighty Power,
How I may hold my lawful birthright.
B. Hadd.
Speak.
Spirit.
What said the Chaldee, whom thou saw'st at Geshur?
Ab.
Ha!
Spirit.
What answer brought he from the palace tower
Of Talmai, on the night of Pentecost?
Ab.
The holy Gods!
Spirit.
A hostile Planet, near allied to thee,
Threatens eclipse and blood; o'ercome but that,
And length of days, and glory shall be thine.
That powerful Star is Solomon's, and rides
Hard by the ascendant.
Ab.
But hath not yet attained it?
Spirit.
It enters on the seventh of Tisri.
Ab.
Gods!
Had.
So near?
Ab.
Direct me. How can I o'ercome?
Spirit.
Possess the crown ere Tisri.
Ab.
Shall I, then,
Be fortunate?
Spirit.
Beyond thy father, or the happiest mortal.
Ab.
And thou wilt serve me?
Spirit.
As I now do him.
B. Hadd.
Reveal the nature of thy services.
Spirit.
I give him strength, enlarge his heart, protect
His life, extend his realm, diffuse his glory,
And rifle, at his bidding, earth, and sea.
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Thou brought'st these treasures then?
Spirit.
My servants did.
Ab.
Stay—tell me—shall I see thee—
Spirit.
When thou sitt'st
Upon thy father's throne.
(The smoke disperses, the image fades and disappears.)
Ab.
By Astaroth!
My faith extended not to this:—the words,
The self-same syllables, ne'er breathed to mortal,—
In which a potent Chaldee summed my fate.
Had.
Nothing escapes them.
Ab.
Hence, Hadad, hence my fears,
My cares, my policy, my flattering arts
To win the people, and strike root so deep
That none could pluck me.—Ever in my ears
Rung the presaging voice;—and years of toil
Yield but this hairbreadth. How, in half a moon,
Could I have built my name to that great height,
Needful to front my father's power? how sought
The dangerous elements? how organized them?—
Now, like Manoah's son, my hidden strength
Can shake the kingdom when my trumpet sounds.
Had.
(to Balaam-Haddon.)
What seest thou?—what transports thee?—
(To Absalom.)
Mark!—mark him!
B. Hadd.
Far off—far off—
Enthroned upon a pedestal so high
That East and West behold it—nations kneel
To kiss its base—the symbol in its hand
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Bears to the sky a diadem so bright
That suns look pale;—its arm gigantic crests
Heaven, like the zodiac, and o'erawes the world!—
Mountains unhoard their treasures, ocean breaks
Obedient at its footstool; every tongue
And people shout, “Hosanna to the Son
Of David!”
Had.
(starting.)
Ha!
Ab.
He faints.
Had.
The wonted trance—
Thus lay the son of Beor on Mount Pisgah,
By Balak's altars.—Powers Demonian, mark,
Record! (Aside and agitated.)
Ab.
But heard you how he spake?
Had.
He spake
The Spirit's bidding, Prince. Observed you not
The supernatural brightness of his eye,
The majesty that swelled his form, his voice
How godlike? Into him the Shadow passed,
Foretold, and left him.
Ab.
Darest thou hope for me
An empire so magnificent?
Had.
My lord, my lord, thou deem'st this little realm
Much, and aspir'st, as to the top of glory,
To rule these Tribes, and curb the neighbour Kings;
But seest not, for thou hast not roamed the world,
Kingdoms on kingdoms opening to thy view,
In prospect dazzling as the vales of Heaven;
Thrones ancient as the Flood, where mighty Kings
Rule, toward the rising sun, o'er plains where gold,
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Abound like olives on the hills of Judah,
Or palms by Jericho, where spicy Isles
Perfume the seas, and coral rocks and pearl
Glitter along the shore. There thou mayst win
Thy conquering way, there plant thy throne, and wield
The universal sceptre.
Ab.
Is thy tongue
Endued with witchcraft?
Had.
None thou need'st, to stand
The World's acknowledged master. Hadst thou not
The Spirit's promise, in these caves behold
A talisman, and in thy father's veterans
Unshrinking agents to thy boldest wish.
He from the sheep-cote to the sceptre rose;
Thou, with that sceptre, grasped in manhood's prime,
Mayst subjugate mankind. But such designs
Require immediate action, cannot linger
An old man's ebbing sands: that were to lose
Irreparable time, which, seized, extends
Thy empire past the pillars of Sesostris.
Ab.
Come, these are fond conceits that make one giddy.
The place, or hour, or that unearthly form,
Whose thrilling accents vibrate in my ears,
Or thy wild visions, or these heaps of gold,
Disorder me. My brain seems all on fire,
Yet a sepulchral coldness numbs my heart.
Let 's leave this treasure-house of death. I'll pause,
This night, upon it. If to-morrow dawn
Upon my unchanged purpose, thou must speed
To Geshur, and, perhaps, Damascus.
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Look,
The Mage recovers; let us lead him hence.
(Exeunt.)
“He,” (Manasseh, King of Judah,) “observed times, and used witchcraft, and dealt with a Familiar Spirit.”—
2 Chron. xxxiii. 6.SCENE II.
An apartment in Obil's house: Obil and Malcuth.Mal.
What shakes thee so, and makes thee look so pale?
Obil.
That dromedary Fiend,—that beast of Hell,—
Lean, black, and demon-like, it stands; it eats not,
Drinks not to satisfy an ass's foal;
But ruminates the livelong day, and glares
Upon me when I enter, with an eye
Of such unnatural meaning, that I quake
Lest human words should follow. In the gloom,
Its eyeballs burn like living fires. Just now,
As in the torchlight trembling I approached it,
I thought—I swear, I thought she folded quickly
A griffin wing.
Mal.
What senseless prate is this?
Obil.
And when I wait, by night, without the walls,
Long ere his step is audible, she snorts,
Springs, rears, and trembles, turns her flaring nostril
Up toward the midnight clouds, and paws, and spurns,
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Earth-born Aashari never did.
Mal.
And this
Has blanched thy manhood so?
Obil.
I 've marked, besides,
When from his night-career, at dawn, he comes,
Though flaked with foam, and panting like a steed
That has outstripped the ostrich, not a hair
Is stained, no speck of clay deforms her limbs.
Hassid, our son, is bold, and he declares,
As on a gusty night he stood by Kedron
Awaiting in my stead, a spectral voice
Accosted Hadad ere beyond his hearing,
And in the hollow wind their accents mingled.
Mal.
His fear, you mean, mistook the wind for voices.
Obil.
After this present business, whose blind haste
Betides to beasts and riders length of rest,
I'll to my tents: I 've gold enough: I'll tend
No demon coursers, though a Prince bestride them.
Mal.
Thou 'dst! hold the rein barehead' to Beelzebub,
So he would stuff thy turban folds with shekels.
Obil.
Peace, cassowar! Has Maugrabin been here?
Mal.
No, no. But tell me, Obil,
Know you the purpose of these meetings?
Obil.
Hush! hark!—They bode more good to Ishmael
Than cockered Isaac—Hark! (A knocking.)
Begone I say.
(Exit Malcuth.)
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Mephib.
Look to my mule, good fellow, wilt thou, quick?
Take her from sight.—And dally not.
(Exit Obil.)
Now let me breathe;—no eye beholds me here,—
But in the streets, methought, each one I met
Gazed on me, whispering with suspicious looks,
“Where goes Mephibosheth at this dusk hour?”
That David strongly suspected Mephibosheth of some participation in the rebellion, is apparent from his behaviour to Ziba. When Mephibosheth meets the King, on his return to Jerusalem, with external signs of the deepest sorrow for his misfortunes, and protests that the accusations of his servant are false and slanderous; David, instead of indignantly annulling his gift to Ziba of Mephibosheth's possessions, and inflicting the punishment he would have merited, had his master's story been believed, answers: “Why speakest thou any more of thy matters? I have said, Thou and Ziba divide the land.”—
See also Josephus: Translator's note, b. 8, ch. 11.Voices and feet seemed following me.—'T is strange.—
How oft have I preferred the evening shade
To visit Ramah, or go down to Bethel,
Pleased with the starry dimness! Now, the night
Seems but the pall of guilt. Conspiracy!
If thou canst look so grim to me,—dethroned,
Dishonored, stripped of all my noblest rights,—
How colorest thou thy devilish front to him,
The chief conspirer?—What,
(Re-enter Obil.)
are they not come?
Obil.
O, yes, my lord, since the first watch.
Mephib.
What! what!
Obil.
This way, my lord.
(Exeunt.)
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SCENE III.
Another apartment. Absalom, Hadad, Ahithophel, Manasses, and Malchiah, seated round a table, with lights and parchments, in consultation. Enter Obil, with Mephibosheth.Ab.
Good even, Prince.
Ahith.
Prosperity to Benjamin.
Mephib.
Health to my lord,—to grave Ahithophel,—
To all. (Seats himself at the table.)
Had.
Time urges. Shall we call in Caleb?
Ab.
Ay, instantly.
(Obil goes out, on a sign from Hadad. Absalom turns to Mephibosheth.)
Prince, all the northern Tribes,
To Benjamin are sure. Here are the seals
Of Gad and Reuben: Naphtali is sworn,
And Pagiel, their prince, has twice passed down,
Communing with our partisans as far
As Shiloh. Twenty thousand valiant men
Wait but our summons. Such, in brief, these letters,
All verbally confirmed by faithful couriers,
Whose words and pledges we have ta'en to-night.
Mephib.
Business has thriven, my lord, in my poor absence.
Re-enter Obil with a Courier.
Ab.
What tidings. Caleb, from the hill country?
Courier.
Every face, my Prince,
Is lifted to salute the sun.
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All tiptoe on the mountains, say'st thou?—Well,
A speedy and a glorious dawn awaits them,
A rising such as Judah never saw.
Ab.
What cities hast thou greeted?
Courier.
All the chief
From Ajalon to Kadesh.—This, from Giloh,
My lord Ahithophel; this from the chiefs
Of Ziph and Lachish.
(Takes letters from the folds of his cap for Absalom and Ahithophel.
Ahith.
(after perusing his despatches.)
All 's well; and bids us not delay.
Ab.
This missive
Seals our resolves. It comes from Ithamar.—
Our royal trumpet will be blown in Hebron
At the sixth hour to-morrow?
Mephib.
(starting.)
How! to-morrow?
Malchi.
To-morrow, Prince?
Ab.
Ten thousand men encamp
Before it ere that hour. By eventide,
The news must be beyond the Kishon.
Mephib.
(aside.)
Moses!
Ahith.
Be not surprised, my lords: our safety lies
In suddenness. The cloud is in the heaven,
The bolt must fly, or men will shun it.
Manass.
Yes, but—
Had.
Pardon, my lord Manasses,—I am rude,—
And sage Ahithophel, our reverend Thummim,
Grant me a word. We twice have been convened,
Without our friends Malchiah and Manasses.
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I have myself passed through the Tribes; with all
The Princes, Judges, powerful of our friends,
Held personal conference; to the nicest point
Instructed them; ta'en pledges; armed their mouths
With potent arguments; explaining thus
The strong necessity of all we do.
The King, whom Heaven preserve! declined in years,
Lets fall the reins; oppressors lord it; wrongs
Cry in the streets with none to hear; the Judge
Sits not between the gates; the King nor hears,
Nor substitutes: imperious Joab rules
God's heritage, and shakes his bloody hand
Over the innocent: old Nathan sits
Close at his master's ear, whispering against
The People's Chosen, bent to crown the boy,
Whom secretly, 't is said, he hath affianced
To Pharaoh's infant daughter. When the fit
Of penitential horror shakes the King,
He talks of Amnon,—fratricide,—and blood
Demanding expiation, and alarms
His mind infirm with guilt and punishment.
Thus stands the kingdom; thus your cherished hopes
Totter to downfall. And will warlike Israel
Behold her lawful, her elected Prince
Undone by treacherous instruments? submit
Her stainless sceptre to a murderer's hand?
For what awes ruthless Joab from the crown
But Absalom? Think you, a Prince's blood,
A helpless youth, were sacred in his sight
If David slept, and Absalom were not,
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Would you perpetuate your royal line,
Age must resign the rod of power to manhood.—
With these, my lords, and other arguments
Suggested by the wise Ahithophel,
Are they replenished, and prepared for action.
Manass.
Then let us on.
Had.
My uncle promises
Full fifteen thousand footmen, and is pledged
A thousand chariots, and five thousand horse
By Hadadezer, if the sword decide it:
Our grandsire Talmai empties all his realm.
Malchi.
I'm satisfied, my lord.
Mephib.
Sirs, may the son of Saul
A moment's audience crave?
Ab.
Speak, worthy Prince.
Mephib.
My lord, I have allied to this great cause
The strongest Tribe save Judah. I demand
Recognisance, before these witnesses,
Of promises not mentioned, as were meet,
Before this solemn sitting.—Yes, my lords,
I claim his oath, that, if by me, the strength
Of Benjamin were added, he would bound
His power by Jordan eastward, and resign
The ancient sovereignty of Ishbosheth
To me, the lineal heir. (A pause.)
Manass.
Can this be so?
Malchi.
Divide the sceptre!
Ahith.
(smiting the table.)
Never!
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But he hath sworn it.
Ab.
If the Tribes consented.
Mephib.
The pledge was absolute,—
There stands your organ. Let him answer.
Ab.
Hadad?
Had.
My lord Mephibosheth,—if I err not,—
That promise was conditioned on—
Mephib.
Nothing!—
By God's Ark! 't was a solemn gage,—unclogged,—
And bound his princely honor to enforce it.
(Hadad draws Absalom apart.)
Manass.
We have no right to mutilate the sceptre;
The royalty is Judah's.
Ahith.
Fixed in him:
A right perpetual promised.
Mephib.
Ye mock,—ye mock!
A right forsooth!—By what right sit ye here
In treasonous council? Plead ye right for this—
Had.
The sooner, Prince, the better.
Ab.
(to Mephib.)
The question of divided sovereignty
Requiring grave debate, and general sanction,
Must wait the assembling of the Tribes, my lord.—
Let us dissolve now: all is understood.—
My father's leave is won, to sacrifice
In solemn state at Hebron, to fulfill
My vow in Geshur. Meet me there to-morrow.
The flower of Judah will attend in arms.
Stir with the dawn; nor marvel if ye spy
Friends of the King upon the way: I 've bid
Two hundred follow us, the more to cloak
The enterprise. And now, my lords, farewell.
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Farewell.
Malchi.
Farewell and prosper, noble Prince.
Ab.
Take separate streets, you who ascend to Zion.
I keep the west, by Millo.
Manass.
We'll be guarded.
(Exeunt all but Hadad, Mephibosheth, and Obil.)
Mephib.
Fit recompense
For trusting traitors!—Fellow, bring my mule.
Had.
Stay.—
You go not forth to-night.
Mephib.
How now!
Thou shuffling, perjured—
Had.
Curb your passion, Prince.
Mephib.
Now, by the bones of Saul—Bring forth my mule.
Had.
(to Obil.)
Stir, and thou diest.
Mephib.
Ruffian, meanest to slay me?
Had.
Hear me, my lord. The Prince's words, 't is true,
I strained beyond their—
Mephib.
Leprous Gentile!
Lie to your brutish gods, lie not to me!
Had.
No matter: you and I best know the wherefore:—
But danger 's in thine eye, and I'll not risk
The safety of the state. You must repose
Beneath good Obil's roof to-night.
Mephib.
Abhorred,
Damned, heathen parasite—
Had.
Tush! have a care!
(Half draws his dagger, with a threatening glance: then turns to Obil.)
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Respect him as myself; but if he look
Beyond thy doors ere the third morning hour,
Your blood be on ye both!—What! hear'st thou?
Obil.
Master, reverently.
Had.
Remember!—eyes will be about these doors
Which ye were best avoid.—Good rest, my lord.
(Returns his dagger to the sheath, and exit. Scene closes.)
The King of Geshur,—the maternal grandfather of Absalom, and supposed to bear the same relationship to Hadad.
SCENE IV.
An apartment in Absalom's house. Nathan and Tamar.Nath.
But tell me, hast thou ever noted
Amidst his many shining qualities
Aught strange or singular?—unlike to others?
That caused thy wonder? even to thyself
Moved thee to say, “How?—Wherefore 's this?”
Tam.
Never.
Nath.
Nothing that marked him from the rest of men?—
Hereafter you shall know why thus I question.
Tam.
O yes, unlike he seems in many things:
In knowledge, eloquence, high thoughts.
Nath.
Proud thoughts
Thou mean'st?
Tam.
I'm but a young and simple maid,
But, father, he, of all my ears have judged,
Is master of the loftiest, richest mind.
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How have I wronged him; deeming him more apt
For intricate designs, and daring deeds,
Than contemplation's solitary flights.
Tam.
Seer, his far-soaring thoughts ascend the stars,
Pierce the unseen abyss, pervade, like light,
The universe, and wing the infinite.
Nath.
(fixing his eyes upon her.)
What stores of love, and praise, and gratitude,
He thence must bring to Him whose mighty hand
Fashioned their glories, hung yon golden orbs
Amidst his wondrous firmament; who bids
The day-spring know his place, and sheds from all
Sweet influences; who bars the haughty sea,
Binds fast his dreadful hail, but drops the dew
Nightly upon his People! How his soul,
Returning from its quest through Earth and Heaven,
Must glow with holy fervor!—Doth it, maiden?
Tam.
Ah! father, father, were it so indeed,
I were too happy.
Nath.
How!—expound thy words.
Tam.
Though he has trod the confines of the world,
Knows all its wonders, and almost has pierced
The secrets of eternity, his heart
Is melancholy, lone, discordant, save
When love attunes it into happiness.
He hath not found, alas, the peace which dwells
But with our Fathers' God.
Nath.
And canst thou love
One who loves not Jehovah?
Tam.
O, ask not.
158
(fervently.)
My child! thou wouldst not wed an Infidel?
Tam.
(in tears.)
O no! O no!
Nath.
Why then this embassage? Why doth your sire
Still urge the King? Why hast thou hearkened it?
Tam.
There was a time when I had hopes,—when truth
Seemed dawning in his mind,—and sometimes, still,
Such heavenly glimpses shine, that my fond heart
Refuses to forego the hope, at last,
To number him with Israel.
Nath.
Beware!
Or thou 'lt delude thy soul to ruin. Say,
Doth he attend our holy ordinances?
Tam.
He promises observance.
Nath.
Two full years
Hath he abode in Jewry.
Tam.
Prophet, think
How he was nurtured—in the faith of Idols.—
That impious worship long since he abjured
By his own native strength; and now he looks
Abroad through Nature's works, and yet must rise—
Nath.
Speaks he of Moses?
Tam.
Familiar as thyself.
Nath.
I think thou saidst he had surveyed the world?
Tam.
O, father, he can speak
Of hundred-gated Thebes, towered Babylon,
And mightier Nineveh, vast Palibothra,
Serendib anchored by the gates of morning,
Renowned Benares, where the Sages teach
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Where fleets and warriors from Elishah's Isles
Besieged the Beauty, where great Memnon fell:—
Of pyramids, temples, and superstitious caves
Filled with strange symbols of the Deity;
Of wondrous mountains, desert-circled seas,
Isles of the ocean, lovely Paradises,
Set, like unfading emeralds, in the deep.
Nath.
Yet manhood scarce confirms his cheek.
Tam.
All this
His thirst of knowledge has achieved; the wish
To gather from the wise eternal Truth.
Nath.
Not found where he has sought it, and has led
Thy wandering fancy.
Tam.
O, might I relate—
But I bethink me, father, of a thing
Like that you asked.—Sometimes, when I'm alone,—
Just ere his coming,—I have heard a sound,
A strange, mysterious, melancholy sound,—
Like music in the air. Anon, he enters.
Nath.
Ha! is this oft?
Tam.
'T is not unfrequent.
Nath.
Only
When thou 'rt alone?
Tam.
I have not heard it else.
Nath.
A sound like what?
Tam.
Like wild, sad music, father;
More moving than the lute or viol touched
By skilful fingers. Wailing in the air
It seems around me, and withdraws as when
One looks and lingers for a last adieu.
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Just ere he enters?
Tam.
At his step it dies.
Nath.
Mark me.—Thou know'st 't is held by righteous men,
That Heaven intrusts us all to Holy Watchers,
“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for
I say unto you, that in heaven their Angels do always behold
the face of my Father, which is in heaven.”—
Matt. xviii. 10.
“Are they not all ministering Spirits, sent forth to minister
for them who should be heirs of salvation?”—
Hebrews, i. 14.
“The Angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that
fear him, and delivereth them.”—
Psalm xxxiv. 7.
The Jews universally believed in Guardian Angels.
Who ward us from the Tempter.—This I deem
Some intimation of an unseen danger.
Tam.
But whence?
Nath.
Time may reveal: meanwhile, I warn thee,
Trust not thyself alone with Hadad.
Tam.
Think'st thou—
Nath.
I scarce know what I think,—my thoughts are troubled.
If some lewd Spirit, taken with thy beauty,
Or plotting to deceive and disunite us,
Could put on human semblance, this were he.
Tam.
O! father, father—
Nath.
Inscrutable he seems, yet ever busy;
His mocking eye insults, while it emits
The malice of the serpent: snake-like, too,
He slinks away, even while his looks dart fury.
Nay, nay—I lay not to his charge—I know
Little of him, though I have supplicated—
I will not wound thee with my dark suspicions—
But shun the peril thou art warned of, shun
What looks like danger though we haply err.
Be not alone with him I charge thee.
Tam.
Seer,
I will avoid it.
Nath.
All is ominous:
The Oracles are mute, dreams warn no more,
161
My days are dark, my nights are visionless,
Jehovah hath forsaken, or in wrath,
Resigned us for a season. Times like these
Are jubilee in Hell. Fiends walk the Earth,
Misleading princes, tempting poor men's pillows,
Supplying moody hatred with the dagger,
Lust with occasions, treason with excuses,
Lifting man's heart, like the rebellious waves,
Against his Maker. Watch, and pray, and tremble;
So may the Highest overshadow thee!
(Nathan retires, followed slowly out by Tamar.)
SCENE V.
The gate of the city, looking down the valley toward Enrogel. Several Citizens sitting in the gate. The Warden walking with his truncheon in his hand.First Cit.
Know you what enterprise our Prince intends
After the sacrifice?
Second Cit.
No; doth he any?
First Cit.
Eliab's son, last night, 'twixt this and Hebron
Met his war chariot and his battle steeds.
Warden.
The Prince went forth at dawn this morning, Sir,
Upon a mule. His chariot has not passed.
First Cit.
But Amariah saw it.
162
When? last night?
First Cit.
Journeying this way, about the second watch,
He heard the clang of hoofs, and, drawing close
Beneath some sycamores, beheld it pass,
Horses, equerries, and a baggage wain,
That clashed, the place being rough, as filled with arms.
Third Cit.
But this is strange.
Third Cit.
But this is strange.
Warden.
It did not pass this gate.
Third Cit.
Why go about?
First Cit.
Perhaps he meditates
A swoop upon the restless Edomite.
Second Cit.
Look! who comes there at speed?
First Cit.
See how for life he dashes through the brook,
And up the hill.—Ha! look!—the animal
Is spent, and falls—
Second Cit.
He stops not—lo! he comes
Like the sped arrow. 'T is some messenger.
Warden.
Fall back, and let him pass.
(Warden calls aloud.)
What for King David?
(A messenger rushes through the gate.)
Mess.
War tidings—Bar the gates!—
(Passes up into the city.)
Citizens.
What can it mean?—Let 's after.
(Exeunt into the city.)
Warden.
His looks were ominous. I'll to the tower,
And see if any hostile shape approaches.
(Exit.)
163
SCENE VI.
Tamar walking on the roof of her father's house.Tam.
Once, in his gentle countenance, methought,
Love grew on reverence, as my lips described
The power, the patience, purity, and faith
Of our Almighty Father!—Then I hoped
His spirit, tempered by its earthly passion,
Fast ripening for a love that never dies!—
Most strange!—Incomprehensible the more,
The more I think!—All tenderness, all love,
He seemed,—happy and social as a child:—
But now into such deeps of thought he lapses,
So like despair,—as makes me weep, or, rather,
Tremble, when snatched by some ungoverned transport—
What sounds are those?—A tumult?—'T is the cry
And rush of multitudes!—What noise is that?
(To Bagoas, who enters hastily.)
Bag.
'T is nothing, Princess.—Come within.
Tam.
Hark!—Hark!—
The clamor rises!
Bag.
Nay, most honored Princess—
(Attempts to lead her away.)
Tam.
Unhand me, slave!
Bag.
Beseech ye—stern was his command
Thou shouldst not stir abroad, or look without,
Until my lord's return. My life must answer 't.
164
(looking from the parapet.)
Good heavens!—What dire disaster?—Whence that throng
Of frantic women—children—ancient men
Tearing their beards and garments—Ha! the Ark!
Abiathar and Zadok weeping by it—
The Priests and Levites—Gracious God! some foe
Hath sure surprised us!—Hear me!—People!—Friends!—
Bag.
Hark, lady!—Princess,—
(Kneels.)
Tam.
Horror! there's the King—
Barefoot—amidst his weeping household—
Bag.
No, no—
Tam.
His gray head bare—his mantle rent!—O, hear me!
(Stretching her hands to the people below.)
Look up!—O, answer me!—My father David!—
Bag.
(drawing her away.)
Cry not, but listen—
Tam.
(breaking from him, rushes again to the parapet.)
Ho! hear me!—Levites!—Friends!—Will no one answer?
Bag.
I'll answer, lady: call not to the people.
Tam.
(wildly.)
What has befallen him?—wherefore's the tumult?
Bag.
Your grandsire is no longer King.
Tam.
Alas!
Is Zion taken?
Bag.
Not by foes.—The Prince,
Your father, wears, to-day, the Hebrew crown.
165
(thunderstruck.)
My father!
Bag.
Surely, Princess;—look not pale.
Tam.
(gasping for breath.)
My father—my—
Bag.
By all the gods, 't is true,—may wrath o'ertake me
If I deceive you,—crowned this day at Hebron.
What say'st?—thy white lips move—
(Tamar falls senseless.)
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