Davideis :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now travels David with a thoughtful mind,
Uncertain where a safe retreat to find;
For though while prosp'rous his affairs did stand,
He friends and servants many could command;
Yet now that frowns had wrinkled fortune's face,
He knew not where to find a resting place.

In this perplexed state, his pious mind
Was to consult the oracle inclin'd;
The inambiguous oracle, from whence
Jehovah secret counsels did dispense,
And undeceiving answers always gave
To such as with an honest mind did craye.

To Nob his weary steps he therefore bends;
Nob was a city of the priests, his friends;
And to Ahimelech he doth repair,
Who then possess'd the pontificial chair.

The rev'rend pontiff, who was unadvis'd
Of David's troubles, now was much surpris'd
To see him come alone, who, not long since,
Was royally attended like a prince:
He startled at the sight, nor could forbear
To ask why unattended he came there.

It happ'ned that a certain Edomite,
Who to the Hebrews was a proselyte,
One who had charge and oversight of all
The herds, and herd-men that belong'd to Saul,
Was with the priest; but what his business there
Doth not to us by sacred writ appear;
'Tis only left in brief upon record,
That he was there detain'd before the Lord.

Him, standing in a corner, David spy'd,
Before he to Ahimelech reply'd;
And knowing well the man, he was afraid
His friend the priest would be by him betray'd,
If after he the king's displeasure knew,
He any kindness unto him should shew;
Lest therefore into danger he should bring
His friend, or out of favour with the king,
He held it best his troubles to conceal,
And not his adverse fortune to reveal,
That if this pick-thank should relate to Saul,
Ought that against the priest should stir his gaul,
The priest the accusation might surmount,
And place his kindness to the king's account.

He therefore gave the priest to understand,
His coming thus was by the king's command;
Who he pretended had dispatch'd him so,
That none his secret enterprize might know;
And that his servants he before did send
To such a place, his coming to attend;
Adding, that in such haste he came away,
The king's command admitting no delay;
That of provision he had never thought,
Nor had his sword or weapons with him brought.

The guiltless priest, with unsuspecting ear,
This feigned story for a truth did hear,
And not with victuals only him supply'd,
But arm'd him with Goliah's sword beside,
Which, offer'd to the Lord, when he was slain,
Did with the priest unto that time remain;
Nay, wanting other, he the shewbread gave,
Appointed for the priests alone to have;
In doing which, he errs that thinks he err'd,
Since mercy is to sacrifice preferr'd.
Yet e'er he gave the consecrated bread,
He ask'd if they, who should therewith be fed,
Were clean. Who will of holy things partake,
Must whatsoever makes unclean forsake.

Thus furnish'd, David did from Nob depart,
And turn'd his face to Gath with heavy heart;
Not knowing else where he his head might hide,
Nor could he long in safety there abide;
The servants of king Achish quickly knew,
That he was David who Goliah slew,

And strait recounted, to incense their king,
What e'rst the Hebrew Dames of him did sing,
When in their dancing and triumphant strain,
They chaunted he had his ten thousands slain.
This David heard; but would not seem to hear,
Concealing, with his utmost care, his fear,
'Till by a stratagem, he found a way
Himself from Gath in safety to convey.

When past the bounds of the Philistine's land,
On Isr'el's coast again, he's at a stand
Which way to take, or whither to direct
His wandring feet, where he might unsuspect
Absconded lie, until those clouds were past,
With which his hemisphere was overcast;
In all his tract, unknowing of a friend
Whom he could trust, and who could him defend,
And Saul, if once discover'd, would, he knew,
Through all the tribes of Israel him pursue.

But little time could he deliberate,
What course to take, so pressing was his fate;
Yet in those moments, many a place was brought,
Under the judgment of his winged thought.

Of all the refuges, his wary mind
Could in such haste, and on a sudden find,
None pleas'd him better than a certain cave,
To which its name the town Adullum gave;
A spacious cave it was, yet known to few,
Remote from Gibeah, and from public view;

And, which did recommend it to his state,
'Twas in the tribe of Judah situate,
Judah, the tribe from which he sprang, and whence
He had most reason to expect defence.
This solitary cave he thought was best,
Where, for a while, he hop'd to find some rest;
The towns and cities therefore he forsook,
And to Adullum's cave himself betook,
Where long he had not been before he spy'd
A friend pass by, whose faith he oft had try'd,
By whom, unto his brethren and his friends,
He notice of his safe arrival sends.

With joy, like that which Jacob did revive,
When news was brought that Joseph was alive,
Did good old Jesse the good tidings hear,
That David was in safety, and so near;
And quickly he, his wife, and ev'ry son,
With all their families, to David run,
Him to embrace, and cheer him in his straight,
Henceforth resolv'd to share a common fate.

This fame expanded with a loud report,
And strangers too in multitudes resort;
Whoe'er was in distress, or discontent,
And all that were in debt unto him went;
A num'rous company to him repair,
With minds as desp'rate as their fortunes were;
And these, with one consent, implore that he
A captain o'er them will vouchsafe to be.
He to their importunity doth yield,
And taking muster of them in the field,

Who t'other day no living soul could find,
With whom to trust his person or heis mind,
Now finds himself environ'd with a throng
Of mett'led blades, about four hundred strong.

When first that lonely cave was in his eye,
He purpos'd only there obscur'd to lie,
'Till Providence should his affairs dispose,
And reconcile him to his causeless foes;
But this access of forces did him force
To alter now his counsels and his course.
He well consider'd that it was in vain
To hope that he could long conceal'd remain;
That of his confluence of men report
Would soon be made to Saul's enquiring court,
And that with windy trumpet, flying fame,
The case would quickly thro' the tribes proclaim;
That Saul appriz'd would not a moment stay,
But fly upon him like a bird of prey.
He therefore all things needful doth with care
In readiness for his defence prepare;
His soldiers he doth discipline, and show
Both how to use the sword, and draw the bow.
His aged parents unto Moab's king,
Safe conduct first obtained, he doth bring,
On promise that they there should safe abide
'Till God should please the quarrel to decide;
For Moab's king and Saul were then at war,
Which made him David countenance so far.

Things thus dispos'd, he from the hold did go,
God, by his prophet Gad, directing so,

And march'd to Hareth forest, where he might,
If forc'd thereto, with more advantage fight.

CHAP. II.

NOW wrap thyself, my muse, in sable weed,
While thou relates a most inhuman deed
As e'er was done; lay by thy laurels now,
And wreath thy temples with a cypress bough.
Thou, who of all the nine, ne'er known to smile,
Art held inventress of the tragick stile,
Speak through my quill, and on a doleful string,
In mournful notes, a tragick story sing.

It was not long e'er Saul's attentive ear
Of David and his new-rais'd men did hear,
And calling to remembrance that his son,
Whose courage was inferior to none,
On the affront was put upon him last,
When he at meat, his jav'lin at him cast,
Was in displeasure from the court retir'd,
His fear suggested that they both conspir'd
Against him, and confederated were
His crown and scepter 'twixt themselves to share;
Which well he knew could not be done, but he
Must, if not slain, at least dethroned be.
The thought of which, as it did horror breed
In him, whose fear did from his guilt proceed,

So did it blow his anger to a rage,
Beyond the force of reason to assuage.

In this turmoil he chanc'd abroad to be,
Beneath the umbrage of a spreading tree,
Under whose shady boughs, in chair of state,
He sate himself to cool and recreate;
About him stood his servants in a ring,
Waiting the pleasure of their angry king.

As chafing thus he sate, 'twixt wrath and fear.
Vibrating, in his palsied hands, his spear,
His terror-striking eye he roll'd about,
And in a while his choler thus brake out:

‘Hear now, ye Benjamites, will Jesse's son,
‘When he the crown of Israel hath won,
‘To ev'ry one of you, who succour yields
‘Unto him now, rich vineyards give and fields?
‘Will he you all, of thousands, captains make,
‘That ye so ready are his part to take?
‘That all of you against me have conspir'd,
‘And not a man, since Jonathan retir'd,
‘Hath shew'd me that my son a league hath made
‘With Jesse's son, and that I am betray'd?
‘Are ye so well assur'd of David's grace,
‘That he will each of you promote to place
‘Of trust and honour, that among you none
‘In pity hath inform'd me that my son
‘Hath stirred up my servant war to make,
‘And both my crown and life away to take?’

This unexpected speech the courtiers strook,
Amaz'd they stand, and on each other look;
Each man among them knew himself to be
From treasonable combination free;
For though their love to David did remain,
Yet did they still their loyalty retain:
But when the king's stern visage they beheld,
His pouting lips, his cheeks with anger swell'd,
His stormy brow, his fiery sparkling eye,
His foaming mouth with fury drawn awry,
His fuming breath puff'd like a smoking brand,
A trembling motion in his restless hand;
Though free from guilt, they were not free from fear,
Knowing how apt he was to cast the spear.

While thus the courtiers in a silent maze,
Upon the king and one another gaze,
Forth Doeg step'd, sprung from the Edomites,
Of herdsmen chief, and chief of parasites,
The same who t'other day with leering eye,
Did David in the tabernacle spy;
He now, to curry favour with his lord,
Told how the priest and David did accord,
How he himself at Nob had lately been,
And David with Ahimelech had seen,
How kind the priest, how ready to inquire
Of God, in David's case, at his desire;
Adding, the priest with food had David stor'd,
And arm'd him also with Goliath's sword;
In short, he told whate'er Ahitub's son,
Had unto David said, or for him done,

And in such terms the matter did relate,
As were most apt the king to irritate,
Hiding what would have freed the priest from blame,
That David went as in the royal name.

The king in pain, through rage too closely pent,
Within his swollen breast, for want of vent,
Was glad this charge against the priests to hear,
Resolving to discharge his fury there.

Forthwith a pursuivant was sent to bring
The priests from Nob before the wrathful king.
The priests, the royal summons to obey,
Immediately advanc'd upon the way,
And, in a body, with a good intent,
Themselves at Gib'ah to the king present.

No sooner did the king the priest espy,
But with a frowning brow and flaming eye,
Upon them fix'd; he to the pontiff brake,
His mind in accents which his fury spake.

‘Hear now,’ said he, Ahitub's son (whose word
To him again was, “Here am I, my lord,”)
‘Why hast thou with a treasonable mind,
‘Against thy lord, with Jesse's son combin'd?
‘Thy treason's plain: for first ye did conspire
‘Against my life, then of the Lord inquire;
‘That thereby he to rise against me might,
‘Embold'ned be his sov'reign Lord to smite;
‘Thou with provisions too didst him supply,
‘That he, as now he doth, in wait might lie,

‘Nay, thou into his hand a sword didst put,
‘That he my head might from my shoulders cut.’

So spake the king, and more perhaps had spoke,
But that this choler did him almost choke.
To whom Ahimelech, with due respect,
Return'd an answer much to this effect:

‘May't please the king, what service I have done
‘For David was, as David was thy son,
‘Thy son-in-law, who always freely went,
‘On whatsoever service by thee sent,
‘One whom the king admitted to his table,
‘And in thy house was always honourable;
‘Nor thought I any one more true to thee,
‘Amongst thy great retinue, than was he;
‘So may he prove: if otherwise he be,
‘His being so was never known to me;
‘'Twas in thy bus'ness that he said he came,
‘Nor had I him receiv'd, but in thy name.
‘Did I then first to seek the Lord begin
‘For him, that this should now be made my sin?
‘Have I not oft before for him inquir'd?
‘Yet ne'er before was charg'd to have conspir'd;
‘From me far be it, e'er to entertain
‘A thought that may my loyalty distain;
‘And from the king, far be it too I pray,
‘Unto his servant's charge this thing to lay,
‘Or to my father's house, for we are clear,
‘And can our innocency make appear;

‘God is my witness, what I speak is true,
‘Thy servant of this matter nothing knew.”

So spake the reverend Ahimelech,
And, with his last words, bow'd his aged neck:
The other priests, to shew they did agree
To what he said, bow'd ev'ry man his knee.

So just the priest's defence was, and so clear,
Unto the standers-by did he appear,
That all the courtiers ready were to shout
For joy: when, on a sudden Saul broke out,
And, with a vehemence of voice, did cry,
‘Thou, thou Ahimelech, shalt surely die,
‘And all thy father's house.’ O cruel word!
More cruel mind! to be by all abhorr'd:
Abhorr'd it was; each courtier hung his head,
And ev'ry face grew pale which had been red.
The dismal sentence did with horror strike
The hearers, deep fetch'd sighs shew'd their dislike;
A trembling murmur at one side began,
And spreading, through the whole assembly ran,
Which ended in an universal groan,
Enough to melt all hearts, but those of stone.

CHAP. III.

HOW miserable is the state of those,
Whose frame of government doth them expose
To arbitrary pow'r! where law's unknown!
Nor any man can call his life his own!
Where innocency is of little force!
Because impartial justice hath no course!
Where one man's rage keeps all the rest in awe,
Whose will and pleasure are his only law!

O! how much better is their case who live
Under a constitution which doth give
To ev'ry man in government a share,
And binds the whole to have of each a care;
Where even-handed justice freely flows,
And each the law, he must be try'd by, knows;
Where none by pow'r can be oppress'd, because
Both prince and people subject are to laws:
None there an arbitrary sentence fears,
Since none can be condemn'd but by his peers,
Whose common int'rest doth them wary make,
How they their fellow's life away do take,
For the same sentence wherewith they condemn
Another may be shortly turn'd on them;
These too th'accused party may reject,
If their indifferency he doth suspect;
And, ne'er so mean, may for his birth-right stand
Fair trial, and full hearing may demand.

Prize your good fortune, ye, whose lot is fell,
Under so good a government to dwell,
Where no dispensing pow'r can make a breach,
Upon your freedoms, nor your persons reach;
But all ye have, life, liberty, estate,
Is safe by law, which none can abrogate,
Without your own consents; be therefore wise,
And learn so great a benefit to prize;
Look to't; be watchful, none by any wile,
You of so rich a jewel e'er beguile.

Ah! had the government of Saul been such,
He had not dar'd the priests of Nob to touch,
Who never were, by legal proof convicted,
Of that for which he on them death inflicted;
Who had themselves from all suspicion clear'd,
And blameless unto all, but him appear'd.

But he, whose lawless will for law was put,
Resolving off those innocents to cut,
Commands his guards to turn without delay,
Upon the priests of God, and them to slay;
Alleging (to encourage them thereto)
That they with trait'rous David had to do;
And that they David's flight, altho' they knew it,
Concealed had from him, and did not shew it.

If on the court so great a terror came,
When he before, the sentence did but name,
How great a consternation may't be thought,
This warrant for their execution brought.

The guards, who never durst till now dispute
Their lord's command, now stand amaz'd and mute;
The thought of such an impious act them struck
With trembling, and their palsied fingers shook,
And let their weapons fall; nor was there one
Amongst them all, tho' threat'ned from the throne
With stormy frowns, that would extend an arm,
Against the priests of God to do them harm.

None all this while, so unconcern'd did stand,
As did the priests themselves: the king's command,
To have them slain, which made the rest to quake,
No alteration in their looks did make;
Which shew'd their guiltless souls were free from fear;
A steady resolution had possest,
With brave contempt of death, their peaceful breast;
They, in themselves, did feel the best defence
Against a tyrant's threat'nings, innocence;
This kept their spirits in an even mean,
With countenance compos'd, and minds serene.
Thus standing, they the Lord their God invoke,
Prepared to receive the fatal stroke.

The more unterrify'd the King beheld
The priests, the more his breast with anger swell'd;
He thought that they his power did contemn,
And, in himself, he vow'd revenge on them;
He chaf't extremely too, to think that he
Should by his guards no more regarded be:
Then, fury boiling in him to its height,
He singles out the brutish Edomite,

Th'informer Doeg, bidding him to fall
Upon the sacred priests, and slay them all.
Not backwarder the yeomen of the guard,
Themselves had shew'd (men mostly rough and hard)
Than forward he, Saul's pleasure to fulfil,
And strait a sea of righteous blood to spill;
Forthwith himself he to the work addrest,
And in Ahimelech's unspotted breast,
His thirsty sword did sheath. The aged sire,
Did not resist, did not a foot retire;
But, with undaunted resolution, stood
The stroke, 'till in a stream of purple blood,
His life expiring, to the ground he press'd,
A glorious pattern leaving to the rest.
They, without terror, did his death behold,
And by his brave example, grew more bold.

Ah! had not cursed Doeg, the disgrace
Of all mankind, as well as Edom's race,
Been in his nature, savager than were
The fiercest beasts committed to his care,
The awful aspect of Ahimelech,
Had been enough the ruffian's mind to check,
Whose goodly personage, and manly face,
An unaffected gravity did grace;
His milk-white beard, unto his spotless breast,
Itself extending, thereupon did rest,
And in his sacerdotal robes attir'd,
Was worthily both loved and admir'd.

But graceless Doeg, of a graceless kind,
Bred among beasts, to brutishness inclin'd,
By shedding blood, more bloody-minded grew,
And on the other priests with fury flew.
They, undismay'd, themselves prepare to die,
Not one resists, not one attempts to fly;
But having God, whose priests they were, implor'd,
They yield their spotless breasts to Doeg's sword:
He in their blood did bathe his reeking blade,
And on the soiled earth, them breathless laid;
The bloody wretch their bodies hew'd and tore,
And warm he left them welt'ring in their gore,
All man by man; nor did he leave alive,
One ephod-wearer, out of eighty-five.

Thus fell the priests of God; thus bleeding lay
The tribe of Levi, slaughter'd in a day;
Butcher'd by barb'rous hands, without all cause,
Against religion, reason, right, and laws:
This Doeg acted; but 'twas Saul that bid;
This Saul commanded, and this Doeg did.

The hard'ned king, thus having fed his eyes,
With this, to him delightful sacrifice,
To carry on his vengeance to the height,
The city Nob too with the sword did smite;
No living soul therein his fury left,
But, whatsoever breath'd, of life bereft,
Men, women, children, oxen, asses, sheep,
His slaught'ring sword at once away did sweep.

O horrid act! on his part most unjust,
As done to answer a revengeful lust;
But just from God, who, his denounced will,
Against old Eli's house did thus fulfil.

1 Sam. ii. 23.

CHAP. IV.

WHILE thus king Saul his forces did employ,
His well-deserving subjects to destroy,
David, still uninform'd thereof, was bent
The sacking of rich Keilah to prevent.

To his retreat th'unwelcome news was brought,
That the Philistines against Keilah fought,
And robb'd the threshing-floors; his gen'rous mind,
To raise the siege, and save the town inclin'd;
He therefore quickly of the Lord inquires,
The sacred answer quick'ned his desires;
Most clear the answer was, yet he was fain,
His men disdoubting, to inquire again;
For they who were in daily fear that Saul,
With all his forces would upon them fall,
Were loth for others' sakes, their strength to break,
And make themselves, for their defence more weak;
But when, the second time inquir'd, the Lord
A more confirming answer did afford,
With promise that, observing his command,
He'd give the Philistines into their hand;

Fear overcome, they drew up man by man,
Their valiant leader marching in the van.

To Keilah come, unlooked for by all,
He on the Philistines did briskly fall,
And, with a dreadful slaughter, all did smite,
Who sought not safety in a timely flight.

The siege thus rais'd, and Keilah's coasts now clear'd
From those assailants she so justly fear'd,
Into the town victorious David enter'd,
For whose deliv'rance he his life had ventur'd,
Leading a booty which his sword did win,
From the defeated host of Philistin;
The gladded Keilites all their wits employ,
To manifest their gratitude and joy;
And well they might, with civick garland crown
His temples, who from spoil had sav'd their town.

Encourag'd greatly with this good success
Was David, and his followers no less;
They joy together: but how meer a toy,
How momentary is all human joy!
This glimm'ring glance of sun-shine soon was past,
And their horizon blacker clouds o'ercast.

The triumph yet was hardly well begun,
When young Abiathar, Ahimelech's son,
Who from the sword, by Providence was freed,
To propagate a sacerdotal seed,

Came panting in; with sweat besmear'd and dust,
And almost breathless, thro' the concourse thrust.

To David come, with many a sigh and sob,
He tells the horrid tragedy of Nob;
How the high-priest, with all his priestly train,
And every living soul at Nob was slain.
Could you have seen, with what a mournful look,
Poor David these amazing tidings took,
Ye would have doubted, whether in his face,
Astonishment or grief had greater place.
So Jeptha look'd, when to his great surprize,
His daughter met him for a sacrifice.
The suddenness and strangeness of the deed,
Horror in David, and amazement breed;
His grief was equal; for he knew full well,
This evil, for his sake, the priests befell:
The thought, with anguish pierc'd his gen'rous breast,
More deeply than can be by words exprest.
The infants with their mothers, he laments,
And that he e'er saw Nob, too late repents;
The priests unrighteous murder doth bemoan,
No less than if their case had been his own:
He all their deaths bewails; but most his grief,
Abounds for his Ahimelech their chief,
Unto whose memory how much he ow'd,
Could not, he thought, more signally be show'd,
Than by accumulating favours on
Abiathar, his sole-surviving son.

With kind embraces, therefore, he doth cheer
The down-cast youth, and bids him cast off fear;
Assuring him, that since their common fate,
Made them joint objects of Saul's causeless hate,
He special care would of his safety take,
Both for his own, and for his father's sake,
Whose well-deservings of him, he should find,
Were deeply graven in a grateful mind.

To David now intelligence was sent
By some well-wisher, that king Saul was bent
To shut him up in Keilah, and to take
Him pris'ner, or destroy it for his sake.
This made him lay all other thoughts aside,
And for his own security provide.

Could David on the Keilites have rely'd,
That they would have stood faithful to his side,
He durst have held the town against the king,
And all the forces in his pow'r to bring;
For Keilah was a place of strength; and more,
Had all provisions for a siege in store;
But doubting how the citizens might hold,
Against the force of steel, or pow'r of gold,
He to the sacred oracle did go,
Saul's purpose and the Keilites' faith to know.
The answer was, ‘Saul will come down; and they,
To save themselves, will thee to him betray.’

This answer, from the oracle receiv'd,
Made David, of the Keilites help bereav'd,

Resolve to lead his slender band from thence,
And seek a place of more secure defence.
He durst himself and men no longer trust,
With them who were too fearful to be just;
For well he knew, where pressing fears prevail,
Fidelity and friendship quickly fail.
Ungrateful Keilah, therefore, he forsook,
And to the wilderness himself betook;
The wilderness of Zip, where he might be,
In all appearance, from betrayers free.

Here noble Jonathan, whose virtuous love,
In greatest dangers did itself approve,
By secret ways to David did repair,
Whose heart was almost overwhelm'd with care.

As pensive lovers feel a sudden cheer,
On seeing the object of their love appear,
So David, at the unexpected sight
Of Jonathan, his very soul's delight,
Forgetting all his fears, and sorrows past,
With gladsome smiles his faithful friend embrac'd;
Who such returns of hearty love did make,
As well the firmness of his friendship spake;
Then to a shady pine they jointly walk,
And 'twixt themselves of David's troubles talk.

No need had David now himself to moan,
His friend knew how to make his case his own;
He kindly to him spake, and had a word,
Of comfort to confirm him in the Lord;

Bid him not fear, but in the Lord confide,
Who was, he could assure him, on his side;
Told him, the Lord would cover him, that Saul
Should be unable to effect his fall;
And, prophet-like, foretold him that the throne,
Of Israel should one day be his own,
And he himself the next in dignity:
(Unhappy man! who others fate could see,
But not his own.) Thus having cheer'd his friend,
And time requiring, they their conf'rence end,
And then before the Lord, they both renew
Their covenant, and kissing, bid adieu.

CHAP. V.

AS in the winter, show'rs and storms succeed
To sun-shine, which to travellers do breed
More toil and hardship, than the transient smile
Of sol gave comfort, which they had e'er while;
So after David's heart had been made glad,
By the kind visit which he lately had,
Fresh storms arose, his troubles now grew more,
And dangers greater than they were before;
Saul furiously approach'd, and well he knew,
With num'rous forces, and his own but few;
Saul only wanted knowledge where he lay,
And some, he knew, would guide him to his prey.

The pick-thank Zephites, in whose trackless wood,
Th'afflicted prince, with his retinue stood,
To curry favour, hasten to the king,
And where poor David was, glad tidings bring,
Engaging, if he came without delay,
They David would into his hands betray.

Attentive ears to all the Zephites told,
The king did lend, and smoothly them cajol'd,
Bestow'd a graceless blessing on the band,
Begg'd them to go again, and understand
More fully all his haunts, and closely spy
The lurking places where he us'd to lie,
And bring him word: away the Zephites post,
But David had, meanwhile, forsook their coast,
And to the wilderness of Maon gone,
The plain that's on the south of Jeshimon.
This when Saul heard, he thither bent his course,
Resolving to prevail by fraud or force;
So swiftly he pursu'd, he David found,
And him and all his men environ'd round.

Great was the strait poor David now was in,
So great, he never had in greater been;
No hope to conquer, nor no way to fly,
Nothing remained but to fight or die;
When lo! a messenger came panting in,
And told the king, the bloody Philistin
Invaded had the land, and all was lost,
At least, that lay upon the bord'ring coast,
Unless he came with speed: therefore, O king,
He cry'd, make no delay, thy forces bring

To save thy land, and let the king make haste,
Before the country be laid wholly waste.

This startling message made the king with speed
Return, and David from his danger freed.
Thus God sometimes, by unexpected ways,
Relief to his distressed ones conveys,
Exciting others upon them to fall,
Who would the righteous without cause enthral.

This great deliv'rance, with a thankful heart
To God ascrib'd, thence David doth depart,
And with his little band of men did hie,
Unto the fortresses of En-gedi,
A place of greater strength, and whence he might,
If over-press'd, secure himself by flight;
Concluding right, 'twould not be long ere Saul,
With greater forces would upon him fall.
His expectation fail'd not; for the king,
The Philistins repell'd, doth with him bring
Three thousand chosen men, men he had try'd,
In whose fidelity he could confide;
And now himself, with pleasing hopes he fed,
That he should David take, alive or dead.

But God, who oft on wicked men doth bring,
The hurts they plot 'gainst others, did the king
Cast single into David's hands: now he,
Might with one stroke himself for ever free,
From Saul's pursuits; for Saul had, from his men,
At nature's call, retir'd into a den,

His royal robe he laid aside the while,
Lest any tinct the garment should defile,
Not thinking David in the cave had been,
Or that he had by human eye been seen.

Who but a David, would have let his foe,
At such advantage found, in safety go!
No small temptation to him it must be,
To set himself from all his troubles free;
His firm attendants too their lord provoke,
To strike himself, or let them give the stroke.

But he, whose noble breast was thoroughly fill'd
With loyal principles, from heav'n instill'd,
(Not liking too, in case he should succeed
Unto the crown, his subjects such a deed
For precedent should have) with brave disdain
Of such a fact, his followers did restrain.

Yet, that the king might sensible be made,
How causelessly he was of him afraid,
He gently stept to where the garment lay,
And, undiscerned, cut the skirt away;
Then drawing back, he waited 'till the king,
His robe resum'd, went forth; and following,
He at a distance, well secur'd did stand,
Having the lappet of the robe in's hand,
And with extended voice, but humble speech,
Obeisance made, he did the king beseech,
To view the skirt; an evidence, quoth he,
Of innocence and loyalty in me;

For well thou may'st conclude, when I so near
Unto thee was unseen, I could my spear
As easily into thy side have put,
As from thy garment I the skirt did cut;
But that thy life, O king, to me was dear,
In that I did not hurt thee, doth appear.

So well his righteous cause did David plead,
Having none else for him to intercede,
So did he manifest his innocence,
So clear'd himself from all surmiz'd offence,
So earnestly upon the Lord did call,
Judgment to give betwixt himself and Saul,
That Saul observing, did confounded stand,
Amaz'd to see his skirt in David's hand;
The sight of which, convinc'd him David could,
At the same time have slain him, if he would,
This satisfy'd him, that his life he ow'd
To David's mercy, which from virtue flow'd;
The sense whereof made him first weep, then cry,
‘Thou, my son David, art more just than I,
‘For thou, for all the evil I have done
‘To thee, hast me rewarded well my son;
‘What man his foe, at such advantage found,
‘Would spare! Thy goodness doth to me abound;
‘Wherefore the Lord reward thee good, I pray,
‘For thy great kindness shewn to me this day.’
Then adding, ‘Now, behold by this I know,
‘The Israelitish crown to thee shall go,
‘And that the kingdom shall establish'd be,
‘On thee and thine, by heaven's just decree:

‘Swear, therefore, said he, to me by the Lord,
‘That thou wilt mercy to my seed afford,
‘And not, for my offence, cut off the same,
‘But leave me in my father's house a name.’

His title to the kingdom David knew,
Better than Saul, and whence that title grew;
Ev'n from the sacred oil, which on his head,
The prophet had by God's appointment shed;
Wherefore, to humour Saul, he to him sware;
Which done, Saul straitway homeward did repair;
But David, who too well the king did know
To trust him, up unto the hold did go.

CHAP. VI.

THE prophet Sam'el now resign'd his breath
To God who gave it; to lament whose death,
And with a due regard to solemnize,
In publick manner, his sad obsequies,
The Israelites with one consent did hie
To Ramah, where he liv'd and was to lie;
And that the king, who lov'd to seem devout,
Would give attendance there, we need not doubt.
This gave poor David some few days of ease,
And from his fears did him a while release.

To Paran now, new quarters seeking, he
Remov'd his little camp from En-gedi;

From wilderness to wilderness, where still
To get provisions would require his skill.

Here, wants increasing, he to mind did call,
That long before he fled the face of Saul,
There liv'd a wealthy miser on that coast,
Who of his great possessions us'd to boast.

Besides a thousand goats, three thousand sheep,
His hinds in Carmel constantly did keep;
So great a flock must many hands employ,
Many a lusty man and sturdy boy,
To keep, and shear the sheep, and wind the wool,
Nor would a little keep their bellies full;
Great store of victuals therefore must be drest,
In such an house, altho' there were no guest;
And custom had prevail'd to that degree,
To every friend the shearing feast was free.

This David well considering, and hearing
That this rich neighbour had begun sheep-shearing,
Thought it a proper time for him to try,
Whether his wealth was mixt with charity;
He therefore chose out ten young men, who were
Of his retinue, them he bid repair
To go to Nabal (for that was the name
Of this rich man) and when to him they came,
They, in their master's name, should him salute,
In such terms as his humour best might suit;
Wish peace, said he, to him, his house, and all
Whate'er he doth possess, both great and small.

When thus ye have address'd him, tell him I,
Who might command, entreat his courtesy;
Which to excite, put him in mind that we,
From doing hurt to him, or his, are free;
For proof of which, we boldly dare appeal
To his own servants: may but he so deal
With us, as we by them have dealt, while they
Among us fed his flocks from day to day:
Then close your message thus; since we are come
In a good day, give us, we pray thee, some
Of thy provisions, that thy servants may,
To David thy beneficence convey.

Thus David's servants, unto Carmel come,
To Nabal spake. But he, with aspect glum,
And scornful tone, said, Who is David! who,
The son of Jesse! Many servants do
Break now-a-days, each from his lord, that he
Himself may from his due obedience free;
And would you have me take my bread and meat,
Provisions for my guests and men to eat,
And squander 'em to such, I neither know,
From whence they come nor whither they may go.

This surly answer did the men so scare,
That they, like modest beggars as they were,
Not pressing further, to their lord return,
And, with the story, make his spirits burn;
For he no sooner heard with what despight,
The brutish clown his just request did slight,
But, in a high resentment of th'affront,
And resolution to take vengeance on't,

He to his soldiers forthwith gave the word,
‘Arm, arm with speed:’ and girding on his sword,
Drew forth four hundred, which he thought enough,
Leaving the rest to guard the camp and stuff,
And, with a stormy mind and martial heat,
March'd on, bestowing many a direful threat
On Nabal now, who single must not fall,
But he, and his own family withal.

In vain, said David, have I safely kept
This fellow's flocks, while he securely slept;
He might a civil answer sure have sent,
If he to part with nothing was so bent;
I'll take such veng'ance on th'ungrateful wretch,
That others may from him example fetch.

While thus enraged, David made such haste,
Nabal to slay, and his whole house lay waste,
Propitious Providence, whose piercing eye
Sees all men's deeds, and thoughts too, from on high,
And with a secret, over-ruling arm,
As well from doing, as receiving, harm,
Doth his preserve; did now contrive a way,
David from shedding guiltless blood to stay.
Such means too oft, through stupid ignorance,
Are weakly plac'd to accident or chance,
By thoughtless men; though others clearly see,
They are th'effects of a divine decree,
Which oft thro' instruments are brought to pass;
As this, whereof we now are speaking, was.

For Nabal, though himself a fool or mad,
(As e'en his very name imports) yet had
A well-accomplish'd wife, discreet and wise,
Fair-spoken, full of virt'ous qualities,
Who oft her husband's rudeness did bewail,
And seek to hide; her name was Abigail.

To her a servant (who had seen and heard
His master's foul behaviour, justly fear'd
The dire effects of't) hast'ned to th'intent,
That she forewarn'd, the mischief might prevent.

Mistress, said he, David, to whom we know,
The safety of ourselves and flocks we owe,
Who hath so kind a neighbour been, that since
He came to live among us, a defence
He hath been to us, both by night and day,
Securing us from thieves, and beasts of prey;
This courteous prince hath to our master sent
Ambassadors, both with a compliment
Of gratulation, and a small request,
That he'd admit him, as an absent guest,
To be partaker, in some sort, at least,
Of the abundance of his shearing feast.

But oh! our master, who thou know'st too well,
Is so ungovern'd, that if one but tell
A civil message to him, he will fall
Foul on him like a son of Belial;
So did he now at David's men let fly,
A rude invective full of raillery,

Against their master, and them back hath sent
Empty of food, but full of discontent;
Consider, therefore, mistress, what to do,
For quick diverting the impending blow;
For evil, if not stopt, is like to fall
Upon our master, and, through him, us all.

Not without great surprize, we may suppose,
Th'attentive dame did hear such words as those,
Which she had reason to believe were true,
For she too well her husband's temper knew;
But being of a well-composed mind,
To all men just, and to her husband kind,
She did not think it was a proper season,
With him, of his ill carr'age then to reason;
But hasten all she could, to go and try,
If she the injur'd prince could pacify.

Her husband, therefore, not consulted, she
A present took of what might likely be
To gain acceptance [bread, wine, flesh well-drest,
Figs, raisins, parched-corn] all of the best,
In good proportion; which on asses laid,
She sent before her, and for haste ne'er staid
Herself to deck; but in her common dress
Sped after, bending to the wilderness.

As down the hill she rode, her watchful eye
Did David, with his men descending, spy
From th'adverse hill; at equal distance set,
They in the interjacent valley met.

Come near to David, from her ass she leapt,
And with submissive look, first forward stept
A pace or too; then prostrate at his feet
She fell, and modestly the prince did greet:

‘On me, my lord, I pray, on me let lie,
‘The punishment of this iniquity;
‘Let not my lord, this man of Belial heed,
‘Nabal, whose name and nature are agreed
‘So well, that by his name is well exprest,
‘The folly which doth in his bosom rest;
‘Resent it not: but let thine handmaid stand
‘'Twixt him and thee, subject to thy command;
‘Yet give me leave, I pray, to speak a word,
‘A word in season to my honour'd lord,
‘Which shall be nothing but the truth, that so
‘Thou may'st the right state of the matter know;
‘For, of a truth, my lord, I did not see,
‘The messengers that came to him from thee,
‘Nor of the matter did one tittle hear,
‘Till they were gone; and then both shame and fear
‘Did spur me on, to hasten to my lord,
‘And bow my neck unto thy right'ous sword:
‘Strike, if thou please; yet give me leave to say,
‘The Lord will thee avenge another way;
‘Stain not thine hand with blood, but to the Lord
‘Refer thy cause, who can, without thy sword,
‘Revenge thy wrongs: may who seeks ill to thee,
‘Be in like case as Nabal soon will be.’

Then humbly offering him the things she brought,
Her present to accept she him besought,
And raising her discourse to higher things,
(Such as concern'd the kingdom) home she brings
The matter to himself; and thus apply'd
The case to him, as if she prophesy'd.
‘Because, my lord, thou dost his battles fight,
‘The Lord of Hosts in thee doth take delight;
‘He'll make thee a sure house wherein to dwell,
‘And set thee on the throne of Israel;
‘Thy head shall wear the Isr'elitish crown,
‘And thou shalt live and die in high renown.’
Then giving Saul, some (not unwelcome) blows,
She thus to David her discourse did close:
‘When thou hast found the Lord deal well with thee,
‘Remember that it was foretold by me.’

This said, she stopt: but not before the Lord,
Had David quite disarm'd (not of his sword,
But) of his anger, and that hot displeasure,
Which in his breast had boil'd beyond due measure;
He now is chang'd, his heat is now allay'd,
And, looking on fair Abigail, he said,

‘Blest be the God of Isr'el, who this day,
‘Sent thee to me and stop me on the way;
‘Blessed by thy advice, and blessed be
‘Thou too for giving it; whereby thou me
‘Prevented hast from shedding blood, which I
‘To do, had'st thou not come, was very nigh:

‘I did the injury too high resent,
‘And to revenge as high, was fully bent;
‘But now from thoughts of violence I cease,
‘And gladly send thee back again in peace.
‘Return, fair dame, return; for I rejoice,
‘That I have heard and heark'ned to thy voice;
‘Thy virtues, good impressions in me leave,
‘And I thy present gratefully receive;
‘Thy wise behaviour hath atonement made,
‘For the offence thy husband's rudeness laid.’
Then parting, he unto his camp retir'd,
She to her house; he, her; she him, admir'd.

CHAP. VII.

WHEN Abigail returned home, she found
Nabal kept open house, all things abound,
Ev'n to profusion; such a lavish feast,
As might have entertain'd a royal guest;
The wine so freely flow'd, and he the cup
So often took, so often turn'd it up,
That he, who was the master of the feast,
Had now transform'd himself from man to beast;
In high excess he spent the jovial day,
And stupid now in drink, he snoring lay.

This was no time to speak to him; but when,
Next morn, his little sense return'd again,

She, in due order, did to him relate,
The danger he had scap'd; how near his gate
David's vindictive sword had been; how he,
And all his house were near a massacre;
How instant danger o'er them all had hung,
The cause, his rudeness and abusive tongue.

This he no sooner heard, but straight the thought,
Of danger he upon himself had brought,
(Though now he knew 'twas over) struck a dart,
Into his mean and too unmanly heart;
His spirits sunk, and in some ten days time,
Smote by the Lord, his life went for his crime.

So great a man, so strange a death, so near
To David's camp, must quickly reach his ear;
Which, when he heard, he blest the Lord that he,
Had both from self-avenging kept him free,
And also had, by an immediate stroke,
Aveng'd his cause, and Nabal's heart had broke.

Then recollecting what a goodly dame,
(With beauty, wisdom, virtue, youth, and fame,
Adorn'd) Abigail to him appear'd,
When, to divert the storm she justly fear'd,
She as a suppliant, the other day,
Although with tears bedew'd, before him lay;
Love kindled in his heart a noble flame,
With honour to espouse the lovely dame;
To her he, therefore, quickly did dispatch,
Ambassadors to treat an happy match

Between them; let her know, how chaste a flame
Possest his breast, and court her in his name,
Conduct her safe, that she might be his wife,
Partaker of his fortunes during life.

The message told; wise Abigail, who knew
How great, how good, how wise, how just, how true,
Prince David was, how pious and how dear
To God, and also to the crown how near,
Did not take state upon her, nor require
Time to consider, and be courted higher;
But, by an humble phrase, exprest consent,
And mounting, well attended, with them went:
To David, who with joy did her receive,
And each, in heart, did to the other cleave.

About this time too, or not long before,
David, who long had been afflicted sore,
For loss of Michal, and now hopeless grown,
That he should e'er enjoy her as his own,
Marry'd Ahinoam, a goodly dame,
Of Jezreel, who out of Judah came,
So that he now was doubly wiv'd, and might
In their sweet conversation take delight.

At once was David of the two possess'd,
With father's joy, and brother's beauty bless'd;
The first by Abigail was signifi'd,
The latter nam'd his Jezreelitish bride.
This made him Michal's absence better bear,
Supply'd by two, so virtuous and so fair;

For she, her cruel father, more to vex
Poor David, and his state the more perplex,
Had to another given; and did constrain
Th'unwilling dame her nuptial bed to stain.
O impious man! who gave her for a snare
To David, as he stuck not to declare,
Which she not proving, in revengeful rage,
He to another did her soon engage.

1 Sam. xviii. 21.

CHAP. VIII.

A TIME of respite David had enjoy'd
While Samu'l's funeral the king employ'd,
A time of joy, wherein he might at leisure,
Refresh himself with undisturbed pleasure;
But now his troubles hasten on again,
And he must now repeat his former pain;
He now for self-defence had need prepare,
Lest Saul be on him ere he be aware.

For Saul to Gibeah was no sooner come,
But the false Ziphites thither to him run,
Inform him, David doth near them reside,
And in their woods, himself and men doth hide;
Offer their service, urge the forward king
To come, and with him strength enough to bring.

This invitation, added to the fire
In Saul's own breast, kindled so strong desire
Of taking David, that he forthwith rose
From Gib'ah, and in quest of David goes,
Leading three thousand with him, men well try'd,
Valiant and strong, in whom he could confide;
These he into the woods of Ziph did draw,
And pitched in the hill of Hachilah.
David, mean-while, informed by his scouts,
That Saul lay camped somewhere thereabouts,
In th'ev'ning ventur'd from his hold to try,
Saul's strength and disposition to descry.

Come to the camp, he saw where Saul did lie
Within the trench, his spear just sticking by
His bolster, and a cruse of water near,
His thirst to quench, and spirits also cheer.
This seeing, unobserv'd straight back he goes,
Fetches Abishai, unto whom he shows
Saul, Abner, all the soldiers fast asleep,
No sentinel awake, the watch to keep.

Fain would Abishai give the fatal stroke,
To free his master from the tyrant's yoke,
And much he press'd, and hard he begg'd for leave,
To strike a blow might Saul of life bereave.

But noble David, in whose gen'rous breast,
Loyal and pious principles did rest,
Flatly forbade it; saying, ‘God forbid,
‘That I should so myself from trouble rid;

‘The Lord forbid that I mine hand should stretch
‘Against the Lord's Anointed. Such a wretch
‘May I ne'er be! I'll leave him to the Lord,
‘Who works by various ways besides the sword;
‘But take,’ said he, ‘his water-pot and spear,
‘By which my innocency may appear.’

This, undiscover'd, done, they both withdrew,
And from a distant eminence in view,
To Abner, David loud directs his call,
The gallant Abner, Saul's brave general:
Alarm'd he starts, and cries, whose tongue doth ring
So shrill? speak softly, lest thou wake the king.

Ah! art not thou a valiant man? but where,
Said David, is thy vigilance and care,
For there came one unto the king's bed-side,
Whom none of all your sentinels descry'd,
By whom the king might have been slain, had I
Not interpos'd. Who now deserves to die?
And that the truth thereof may plain appear,
See here his cruse of water and his spear.

By this time Saul, awaking with the noise,
And startling at the sound of David's voice,
Cry'd, ‘Is it thou, my son?’ Yes, yes, it is,
Said David; wherein have I done amiss?
Since I to thee, O king, am always true,
Why! O why thus, dost thou my life pursue?
If thou thus hunt'st me by the Lord's command,
May he accept an off'ring at my hand;

But if this mischief, by the sons of men,
Be rais'd against me with design, O then,
Accursed of the Lord be they, who strive
Me from the inheritance of God to drive,
As if they said, to other gods be gone,
Yet I resolve to serve the Lord alone,
And therefore trust in his support through all,
That to the earth my blood may never fall.
How mean a thing it is, that Isr'el's king.
An armed host into the field should bring,
To seek a flea! Are men of wisdom wont.
With armies after partridges to hunt!
No greater I than these may counted be,
If I, great prince, compared am to thee.

Not more did David's rhetorick prevail
On Saul, than that which never us'd to fail
With him, and such as he, the fight of's spear
In David's hand; whereby he knew how near
David to him had been, whilst fast asleep,
He lay at David's mercy (none to keep
The stroke off from him) who might with one blow,
Have sent his soul down to the shades below;
Yet did not hurt him. This the better part
Of Saul's ill nature reach'd, and in his heart
Kindled a spark of gratitude, from whence
Sprang an acknowledgment of his offence;
Frankly, as once before, in like distress,
His error, folly, sin, he doth confess.

Son David, I have greatly sinn'd, said he,
I beg thy pardon, pray return to me;
Full well I know, that I have play'd the fool,
And broke the precepts taught in virtue's school;
But never more will I against thee rise,
Because my life was precious in thine eyes.

The Lord, said David, once again had put
Thee in my pow'r; I eas'ly might have cut
Thy thread asunder. God so deal with me,
As I have faithful been and kind to thee.

When David ceas'd, Saul did his blessing give,
Wishing he in prosperity might live;
Then parting, Saul returned to his place,
And David to his camp directs his pace.

End of the Second Book.