Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Had the deniall of my poore request
Proceeded from th'inexorable brest
Of one, whose open hatred sought t'endanger
My haunted life; Or had it bin a stranger,
That wanted so much nature, to deny
The doing of a common curtesie;
Nay, had it bin a friend that had deceiv'd me,
An ordinary friend, It nere had griev'd me:
But thou, even thou my bosome friend, that art
The onely joy of my deceived heart;
Nay thou, whose bony-dropping lips so often
Did plead thy undissembled love, and soften
My deare affection, which could never yeeld
To easier termes; By thee, to be beguild?

373

How often hast thou mockt my slender suite
With forged falshood? Hadst thou but beene mute,
J nere had hop'd: But being fairely led
Towards my prompt desiers, which were fed
With my false hopes, and thy false-hearted tongue,
And then beguild? J hold it as a wrong:
How canst thou say thou lov'st me? How can I
Thinke but thou hat'st me, when thy lips deny
So poore a Suite? Alas, my fond desire
Had flak'd, had not deniall blowne the fire:
Grant then at last, and let thy open brest
Shew that thou lov'st me', and grant my faire request:
Speake, or speake not, thy Delila shall give ore
To urge; her lips shall never urge thee more:
To whom the yeelding Lover thus betrai'd
His heart, being tortur'd unto death, and said;

My deare, my Delila; I cannot stand
Against so sweet a pleader; Jn thy hand
There entrust, aud to thy brest impart
Thy Samsons life, and secrets of his heart;
I now then my Delila, that J was borne
A Nazarite; These locks were never shorne;
No Raisor, yet, came ere upon my crowne;
There lies my strength, with thē, my strength is gone:
Were they but shaven, my Delila; O, then,
Thy Samson should be weake as other men;

No sooner had he spoken, but he spred
His body on the floore, his drowzy head,
He pillow'd on her lap; untill, at last,
He fell into a sleepe; and, being fast,
She clipt his locks from off his carelesse head,
And beckning the Philistians, she said;
Samson awake; Take strength and courage on thee;
Samson arise; The Philistines are on thee:

374

Even as a Dove, whose wings are clipt, for flying,
Flutters her idle stumps; and still's relying
Vpon her wonted refuge, strives in vaine,
To quit her life from danger, and attaine
The freedome of her ayre-diuiding plumes;
She struggles often, and she oft presumes
To take the sanctuary of the open fields;
But, finding that her hopes are vaine, she yeelds;
Even so poore Samson (frighted at the sound,
That rows'd him from his rest) forsook the ground;
Perceiving the Philistians there at hand,
To take him pris'ner, he began to stand
Vpon his wonted Guard: His threatning breath
Brings forth the prologue to their following death:
He rowz'd himselfe; and, like a Lyon, shooke
His drowzy limmes; and with a cloudy looke,
(Fore-telling boystrous, and tempestuous weather)
Defi'd each one, defi'd them all together:
Now, when he came to grapple, he upheav'd
His mighty hand; but, now (alas, bereav'd
Of wonted power) that confounding arme,
(That could no lesse then murther) did no harme;)
Blow was exchang'd, for blow; & wound for wound;
He, that, of late, disdained to give ground,
Flies backe apace; who, lately, stain'd the field
With conquer'd blood, does now begin to yeeld;
He, that, of late, brake twisted Ropes in twaine,
Is bound with Packthred; He, that did disdaine
To feare the power of an Armed Band,
Can now walke prisoner in a single hand:
Thus have the trecherous Philistines betray'd
Poore captive Samson: Samson now obay'd:
Those glowing eyes, that whirled death about,
Where ere they view'd, their cursed hands put out
They led him pris'ner, and convai'd him downe

375

To strong-wall'd d'Azza (that Philistians, towne,
Those gates his shoulders lately bore away)
There, in the common Prison, did they lay
Distressed Samson, who obtain'd no meate,
But what he purchas'd with his painfull sweate;
For, every day, they urg'd him to fulfill
His twelve howres taske, at the laborious Mill;
And, when his wasted strength began to tyre,
They'd quicken his bare sides, with whips of Wire:
Fill'd was the towne with Ioy, and Triumph: All,
From the high-Prince, to th'Cobbler, on the stall,
Kept holy-day, whilest every voice became
Hoarse, as the Trumpe of newes-divulging fame;
All tongues were fill'd with shouts: And every eare
Was growne impatient of the whisperer;
So generall was their Triumph, their Applause,
That children shouted ere they knew a cause:
The better sort betooke them to their knees,
Dagon must worship'd be: Dagon, that frees
Both Sea, and Land, Dagon, that did subdue
Our common soe: Dagon must have his due:
Dagon must have his praise; must have his prize:
Dagon must have his holy Sacrifice:
Dagon has brought to our victorious hand
Proud Samson: Dagon has redeem'd our land:
We call to Dagon: and our Dagon heares;
Our groanes are come to holy Dagons eares;
To Dagon, all renowne and Glory be;
Where is there such another God as Hee?