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.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

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.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

Long had the Hebrew common-wealth been torn
By civil jars, since first the sacring horn
On David's head, from rev'rend Samuel's hand,
Had empty'd been by God's express command:
While the tall son of Kish, with armed force
Begirt (the flow'r of Israel's foot and horse)
Left nothing unattempted to bring down
The son of Jess', the rival of his crown;
The princely youth, by envy doom'd to fall,
Because his virtues far exceeded Saul:
Who can recount the jeopardies, which he
Was daily in, while he was fain to flee
From cave to rock, from one hold to another,
And safety for his aged sire and mother
In Moab seek; himself enforc'd to fly
To Achish, Israel's utter enemy!

Who the great Philistine so lately slew,
Is glad now to a Philistine to sue
For shelter; driven by domestick foes,
To beg from foreign enemies repose;
Adullum, Mizpeh, Hareth, Keilah, Ziph,
En-gedi, Paren, and the craggy cliff
Of Hachilah, the rocks where wild goats breed,
Witness the hardships borne by Jesse's seed.

A sabbath now of years was fully run,
Since David's causeless troubles first begun,
When the Almighty, having throughly prov'd,
The faith and love of him he throughly lov'd,
Said, ‘'Tis enough.’ And with that word decreed,
The means whereby his David should be freed.

The Philistines again invade the land,
The tall but trembling king is at a stand;
From God departed, he of God is left,
Of counsel and of courage both bereft;
What course, in this so great a strait, to steer,
He wist not, 'twixt necessity and fear;
The prophet, from whose heaven-inspired breast,
Counsel did use to flow, was gone to rest;
God, nor by urim did in that extreme,
Vouchsafe to give an answer, nor by dream,
Though sought unto. In vain doth man expect,
Deliv'rance by the hand he doth reject.

Deserted thus of God, the faithless king
Himself upon th'infernal pow'rs doth fling;

Consults a witch, and her imploys to raise
The prophet Samuel, who many days
Had with his fathers slept. O blinded wretch!
To think a silly witch had pow'r to fetch
A sacred prophet from his peaceful rest;
Or devils, after death, could saints molest.

Yet, by the apparition which she brought,
Was Saul of his approaching ruin taught,
And found it true. The Philistines prevail'd,
The strength of Isr'el with their courage fail'd;
Numbers were slain, the rest with terror fled,
And Saul's three sons were found among the dead;
He sorely wounded, and in blood imbru'd,
By chariots and by horsemen close pursu'd,
Bids his own squire, left he should be abus'd,
Dispatch him quite; but he, thro' fear, refus'd;
Despair then prompting, on his sword he fell,
Who durst against the King of kings rebel.

Such was the end of disobedient Saul,
Whom God the first to Israel's crown did call;
For not performing God's express command,
Perish he must, and that by his own hand;
He that spar'd Agag, doom'd by God to death,
With his own hand lets out his vital breath.
Monarchs, beware; let this great monarch's fall,
For ever be a warning to you all.

CHAP. II.

WHILE this so great discomfiture befell,
For their king's sake, the host of Israel;
While streams of reeking blood did float the plain,
And Gilboa was loaded with the slain,
The all commanding Providence took care,
That his anointed prince should not be there,
And, by an extraordinary way,
Kept him from danger and from guilt that day.

The great disposer of all human things,
Who, at his pleasure, makes and unmakes kings,
Who hath the hearts of princes in his hand,
And can our foes to be our friends command,
He had the heart of Gath's fierce king inclin'd,
To be to David in affliction kind.

Achish did Ziklag unto David give,
Where he with his retinue safe might live;
Heap'd favours on him, promis'd great rewards,
No less than to be captain of his guards;
But he must to the battle with him go,
And help to give his king an overthrow.

How great a strait must David now be in,
Having no other choice, than death or sin!
Death, if he should refuse to fight; and sin,
In fighting Isr'el for the Philistin.

Thus sorely exercis'd, it may be guest,
Such thoughts as these might fill his troubled breast.

How can I draw my sword against my king,
And not upon myself the odium bring
Of foul rebellion! I, who never durst
Attempt his life, although he sought mine first?
I dare not, knowing him by God appointed,
Stretch forth mine hand against the Lord's anointed.

I well recall, how I within was smote,
When I but cut the skirt from off his coat;
What may I then expect, but wrath divine,
If he should fall by any stroke of mine!

But say, the king were safe: yet how can I,
Whose sword hath troops of Philistines made fly,
Who purchas'd Michal with the parted skins
Of four times fifty slaughter'd Philistines?
I, who the daring'st champion of their crew,
They looking on, in single combat slew,
And, God assisting, with a single sling,
Deliv'rance did unto my country bring;
Shall I now for the Philistines go fight,
And draw my sword against an Isr'elite!
Shall I assist God's heritage to bring
In thraldom to th'uncircumcised king!
Shall I upon myself incur the guilt,
Of all the blood which may that day be spilt.
In Israel! The Lord forbid that I
Should ever yield to such a villany.

But yet, if I refuse my men to lead,
With Achish to the field, and cannot plead
A fair excuse; what can I think but he
Will thenceforth treat me as his enemy!
What can I then expect for me and mine,
But present death! or that he will confine
Myself and men in prison close, until
He may our blood with ling'ring torments spill.

Shall I, this mischief to prevent, comply
With his commands, at least-wise seemingly?
Shall I unto my present fortune yield,
And briskly draw my forces to the field;
Shall I with Achish to the battle go,
As if I were to Israel a foe;
Then, when the battle's joined, wheel about,
And help to give the Philistines a rout?
No! that were base; and I had rather die,
Than stain mine honour with such treachery!
Exil'd from mine own land, I hither fled
To seek a shelter for my hunted head;
I found a kind reception with this prince,
And in his favour I have stood e'er since;
To me his bounty hath extended been,
No less than if I were a Philistine;
In me he doth repose a special trust,
And God forbid I should be less than just;
Ungrateful to a proverb I should be,
Should I betray him to his enemy;
Death rather choose! than such an infamy,
On David, on an Israelite, should lie.

While David thus did many thoughts revolve,
Not knowing what with safety to resolve,
Save in the rear, with Achish on to go,
And wait on God for counsel what to do;
The God of David his deliv'rance wrought,
And fairly him from this dilemma brought.

The princes of the Philistines, to whom
Their king's new favourite was now become
An eye-sore; not well pleas'd before to see,
Court-favours heap'd upon a refugee;
And now observing, that their easy king,
Not only David and his men did bring
To battle, but had rang'd them by his side,
As if in them he chiefly did confide;
Their emulation could no longer hide,
But, with a discontented murmur, cry'd,
‘What do these Hebrews here!’ The king would fain
Their discontents allay, but try'd in vain;
The more he David's courage, conduct, prais'd,
The more against them he their choler rais'd;
Their wrath brake forth. ‘This fellow make,’ said they,
‘Return unto his place, left he betray
‘Us in the heat of fight, and by that wile,
‘Himself unto his master reconcile;
‘For, by what means can he procure his peace
‘With Saul so well, as by the heads of these?
‘Command him, therefore, back; for, surely, know
‘He shall not with us to the battle go.’
They stoutly urge. The king is fain to yield,
And David forthwith is dismiss'd the field.

Thus God, when he his saints hath throughly try'd,
Can ways unthought for their escape provide.

CHAP. III.

JOY now abounding in his thankful heart,
Jesse's fair son doth from the camp depart,
And towards Ziklag, with a nimble pace
Marches, his loyal consorts to embrace;
But ere the sun thrice set, his joy was check'd,
By a disaster he did least expect.

Approaching near the place where stood the town,
To his surprize he found it levell'd down,
Burnt to the ground, and in its ashes laid,
And all that was therein away convey'd;
No living soul was left that might inform,
Who were the authors of this dismal storm.

Who can conceive the horror that possess'd,
On that afflicting sight, poor David's breast!
Amaz'd he stood, like one that's struck with thunder,
Fill'd with astonishment and silent wonder;
His blood retiring to his trembling heart,
Left a cold sweat upon each outward part;
Heart-rending sorrows did, without controul,
Imprison all the powers of his soul;

Grief forc'd a vent at last, and out did pour,
Through his fainting eyes, an easing show'r;
Tears flow'd amain; he wept until the store,
Of tears was spent, and he could weep no more.

When sighs did passage to his grief afford,
And speech was to his falt'ring tongue restor'd,
He more obdurate must have been than stone,
Whose heart had not been tend'red with his moan;
The loss of Ziklag something was, much more
That of the people with their wealthy store;
But with the deepest groans he did bewail,
His lost Ahinoam and Abigail;
His sorrows to complete, his little host,
For there was no man but had something lost,
Were on the point to mutiny, and fall
With stones upon their guiltless general.

His reason now did to return begin,
Out of that stupor grief had plung'd it in,
And calling back with nimble diligence,
His spirits and his intellect'al sense,
His piety did first itself exert,
Sure token of a right religious heart.

Fear, bane of noble actions, off he shakes,
And in the Lord his God fresh courage takes,
His blood enkindles, and his spirits boil,
With strong desire to regain the spoil,
The living spoil, if life did yet remain,
In his two consorts and their youthful train;

His flaming eye sparkles an angry threat,
And just revenge his active pulses beat.

Yet would he not on this adventure move,
'Till he had try'd, how God would it approve.

How happy should we be! How would success
Crown all our actions! how would heav'n bless
Our essays, if in all we undertake,
We first the Lord our counsellor would make.

The priest is called; the sacred ephod brought;
God's counsel, in his own direction sought;
The answer is propitious. Out he went,
With his six hundred men; two hundred spent
With their hard march, were by the rest forsook,
Not able to get over Besor-brook.

Not far had David with the rest advanc'd,
When an Egyptian in the field they chanc'd
To find, who being sick, and hunger pin'd,
Was by those sacking rovers left behind;
Him they refreshed with long-wanted food,
And by him, when recover'd, understood,
That their old enemy, th'Amalekite,
It was had done them this so great despite;
By him too, oath of safety first be'ng giv'n,
(Oaths then were lawful, by the God of heav'n)
Was David guided to the place where they,
In jovial merriment securely lay;

Of Ziklag's dainties they a feast had made,
And with their plunder drove a merry trade;
From eating, they to dancing fell and drinking,
How soon they must the reck'ning pay, not thinking;
When on a sudden, David in doth pour
His men upon them, like a thunder-show'r.

Could you observe, in what a furious way,
A lion leaps upon his trembling prey;
So on the Amalekites the Hebrews flew,
Than lions fiercer, having in their view
Their captiv'd wives and children, and the fire,
Of smoking Ziklag to inflame their ire.

The slaughter 'till the next day's ev'ning held,
The earth with slain was cover'd, rivers swell'd
With blood of Amalek that thither ran,
For of them all escaped not a man,
Except four hundred who, perhaps, by night,
On camels mounted, sav'd themselves by flight.

During the time this bloody work did last,
The captive dames, with hands and eyes up-cast,
Implor'd the God of Israel to bless,
The arms of their deliv'rers with success;
But when destroy'd they saw their enemies,
Their thankful joy brake through their sparkling eyes;
And, as Andromeda, when from her chain
Releas'd, she saw the frightful monster slain,
So look'd Ahinoam, so Abigail,
When they their dearest David saw prevail.

The slaughter over, and the field now clear'd,
So that no living enemy appear'd,
The victors and their new redeemed dames,
(Those love, these love and gratitude inflames)
Together run with nimble-footed paces,
And clasp each other in most sweet embraces.
When they had paid the debt long due to love,
The Hebrew captain did from thence remove,
And toward Ziklag took again his way,
With his recover'd spoil, and with the prey
Of Amalek. To Besor-brook they bend,
Where his recruited men did him attend;
To them, as to the rest, he doth divide,
Their share o' th'booty, and to Ziklag hy'd;
From whence he, of the spoil, unto his friends,
In all the coasts about, rich presents sends.

CHAP. IV.

TWO days in Ziklag now had David stay'd,
To view the ruins which the fire had made;
But most his thoughts on Israel's camp did run,
And fear'd the worst, not knowing what was done;
When on the third, lo, one with running spent,
Earth on his head, and all his garments rent,
Came from the camp, and falling at his feet,
Did with good news, as he suppos'd, him greet.

He told, how Israel from the battle fled,
That of the soldiers multitudes were dead;
That Saul, and Jonathan his son, were slain;
At those great names, David could not refrain,
But forthwith ask'd him, by what means he knew
What he reported of Saul's death was true.
He, hoping some advantage would accrue,
Confess'd his prince, at his request, he slew,
And to confirm the truth of what he said,
Saul's crown and brac'let at his feet he laid.

As one that stooping something up to take,
Claps his unwary hand upon a snake,
Doth with a sudden fright, first backward start,
His scared blood retiring to his heart,
Then at a farther distance, trembling stands,
With fainting countenance and palsied hands;
So startled David at th'unlook'd for sight,
Of that which some would gaze on with delight,
Th'imperial crown; by which he surely knew,
That what the fellow told him was too true.
Grief seiz'd his spirit; he with garments torn,
Together with his men, for Saul did mourn;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' Saul to him had been,
A fiercer foe than any Philistine;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' Saul his life had sought,
And him into extremest dangers brought;
For Saul he mourn'd, tho' by the death of Saul,
He knew the kingdom unto him would fall.
Thus gen'rous minds, e'en with their enemies,
In adverse fortunes can't but sympathize.

100

For Jonathan, as for an only brother,
Or as a virgin for her constant lover,
So mourned he; for 'twixt them two had past,
A friendship that beyond the grave must last;
Immortal friendship! Never two were twin'd
More close; they had two bodies, but one mind.
Patroclus to Achilles was less dear;
Hylas to Hercules not half so near;
Not Pylades did more Orestes love;
Nor Damon to his Pythias truer prove;
To Pirithous more close not Theseus
Did cleave; nor Nysus to Euryalus;
Than did to David princely Jonathan,
From the blest day their friendship first began;
Their souls were so commix'd, that none could tell,
Which lov'd most truly, either lov'd so well;
Jonathan's love to David strongly ran,
And David's flow'd as strong to Jonathan:
So that e'en yet, we in a proverb have it,
[Strong as the loves of Jonathan and David]
'Twas for his friend, for such a friend as man
Scarce had before; 'twas for his Jonathan
That David mourn'd; and who enough could moan,
The death, untimely death, of such an one.

But, from particulars, his grief did call,
To mourning for the tribes in general;
The house of Israel was wounded deep,
What Isra'lite could hear it, and not weep!
Not weep a flood! the people of the Lord,
Are fallen by th'uncircumcised's sword;

101

This, to his sorrow, set the flood-gates ope,
And to his melting grief gave boundless scope.

Nor would his single sorrow serve the turn,
But all his men together with him mourn;
Saul's death and Jonathan's he did not fail,
In most pathetick language, to bewail;
But, sure, the stifling grief that fill'd his breast
For Isr'el, could not be in words exprest.

When sorrow now its force had somewhat spent,
And flowing tears to grief had given vent,
The messenger, who did the tidings bring,
Having confest that he did kill the king,
Was, self-convicted, unto death appointed,
And kill'd, for having slain the Lord's anointed.
That justice done, David from Ziklag rose,
By God's direction, and to Hebron goes.

CHAP. V.

HAIL! noble hero, favourite of heaven,
To whom a royal diadem is given!
Welcome to Hebron! Lo, thy people bring
Their presents to their new-elected king.

No sooner was it known, that Jesse's son
Had Ziklag left, and was to Hebron gone,

102

But Judah's nobles thither did resort,
And, with a splendid train, did fill his court;
Judah, the tribe to which he did belong;
Judah, the tribe of all the tribes most strong.

The men of Judah, as with one consent,
From all their cities unto Hebron went,
They went with hearts full of affection fraight,
His safe arrival to congratulate;
No sooner met, but David they install,
King over Judah in the room of Saul,
The sacred oil they on his temples shed,
And set the imperial crown upon his head;
The court they make, and all the city ring,
With joyful acclamations to their king.

Scarce were the coronation triumphs o'er,
Scarce the new king his diadem had wore,
When he again must draw his late sheath'd sword:
“Short are the joys external things afford.”

A son of Saul's surviv'd his father's death,
Twice twenty years of age, nam'd Ish-bosheth,
Him Abner did to Mahanaim bring,
And, o'er the house of Isr'el, made him king.

Thus Israel and Judah were divided,
Whilst either party with their own king sided;
Hence civil wars between the tribes arose,
And former friends degen'rate into foes;

103

They that were link'd by nature and by grace,
Each other now in hostile manner chase,
The sword devoureth kin on either side,
And Hebrews' hands in Hebrews' blood are dy'd.

When long these hateful civil wars had lasted,
And Isr'el's strength was thereby greatly wasted,
(For weaker grew the house of Saul, the longer
The war endur'd, and David's house grew stronger)
Then awful Providence, by means unthought,
The war and faction to a period brought.

To Rizpah, who had been Saul's concubine,
'Twas thought that Abner did too much incline;
This Ish-bosheth resenting with disdain,
Charg'd Abner that with Rizpah he had lain;
High-stomach'd Abner, who could nothing brook
That touch'd his honour, such displeasure took
At this reproach, that he resolv'd to bring
All Israel over unto Judah's king;
Nor would he in a covert manner go
To work, but boldly told his master so.
Forthwith to David messengers he sent,
To make his peace, and then in person went
To Hebron; after he had first inclin'd
The Isr'elitish princes to his mind.

Him David graciously receiv'd, and made
A royal entertainment while he staid;
And then in peace dismiss'd him, to effect
The grand affair which Abner did project.

104

Not far from Hebron yet was Abner gone,
When Joab ent'red (David's sister's son)
Who on some military enterprize,
Had absent been against the enemies,
With David's men of war (for, over all
His uncle's forces he was general)
And, having giv'n his enemy the foil,
Was just returned laden with the spoil.

When Joab heard that Abner had been there,
Receiv'd and sent away again with care,
His passion rose so high, it made him fling
Undutiful reflections on his king.
Zeal he pretended for his prince's state,
But underneath did lurk revenge and hate;
For, 'twas not long before, at Gibeon fight,
That Abner and his men be'ng put to flight,
Asael, Joab's brother, him so hard
Pursu'd, that Abner standing on his guard,
In's own defence, and sore against his will,
To save himself was forc'd the youth to kill;
His brother's blood, in Joab's eye still reeks,
And he a season to revenge it seeks.

He after Abner sends, in David's name,
(Unknown to David) to return.—He came;
Deceitful Joab received him at the gate
With feigned kindness, hiding inward hate,
As if he had some secret to impart,
Took him aside, and stabb'd him to the heart.

105

Thus fell the valiant Abner: thus did die
A brave commander through base treachery;
Thus princely Joab did his honour stain,
With Abner's noble blood, ignobly slain.

When unto David's ear the news was brought
Of the foul murder by his nephew wrought,
It pierc'd his royal heart; apt words he lack'd,
To speak his just abhorrence of the fact;
Yet in unstrained terms himself he free'd,
From being conscious of so foul a deed.

‘I and my kingdom guiltless are,’ he said,
‘Of Abner's blood; on Joab be it laid,
‘And may it on his house for ever rest,
‘May sword or famine him and his infest;
‘May his posterity be never free,
‘From leprous ulcer or infirmity.’

Then for the funeral he order gave,
And wept a show'r of tears on Abner's grave;
Joab to rend his clothes he did command,
And, at the grave, begirt with sackcloth stand;
After the bier himself in mourning went,
And in an elegy his grief did vent;
The people join their tears, o'er Abner weep,
And, for his death, a solemn mourning keep.

106

CHAP. VI.

TOO late did Ish-bosheth his error find,
In having alienated Abner's mind
From his affairs; too late did he repent
His hasty rashness, when he saw the event.

'Twas not without good cause, that nature set
A double guard before the tongue; and yet
That nimble member, it's too often found,
Nor lips, nor teeth can keep within its bounds,
But out it breaks; a few unwary words,
More mischief do than twice as many swords.
Saul's inconsid'rate son, 'tis like, ne'er thought
His taunt would such a dire effect have wrought;
But martial spirits no affront can brook,
That on their honour like a stain doth look;
And, therefore, even kings themselves had need,
How they their subjects disoblige, take heed.

When fame had sounded Abner's hasty death
Into the ears of drooping Ish-bosheth,
A trembling seiz'd him, and his spirits fail,
His hands grew feeble, and his face grew pale;
And he, though yet no danger did appear,
Himself abandon'd to unmanly fear;
This abject mind made some neglect him more,
Who did not over-value him before.

107

Two sons of Rimmon, the Be-erothite,
The off-spring of the wily Gibeonite,
Were under Ish bosheth in some command,
Each was, perhaps, the captain of a band;
These, by some means, intelligence had got,
That Israel's princes a revolt did plot,
And hoping to advance their fortunes higher,
For David did against their Lord conspire.

Their prince into his chamber had retir'd,
As there, at noon, the sultry clime requir'd,
And being both with heat and grief opprest,
Had thrown himself upon his bed to rest;
The resolute assassins thither came,
One Baanah styl'd, Rechab the other's name;
Poor Ish-bosheth asleep supinely lay,
Him on his bed, the traitors basely slay;
Then, from his bleeding corpse his head they take,
And, thro' the plain, with speed for Hebron make.

Arriv'd, to David forthwith they address,
And in such terms as these themselves express:
‘Behold, great prince, the head of Ish-bosheth,
‘The son of Saul, thy foe who sought thy death;’
And, instantly, the mangled head they shew'd,
A ghastly sight, in purple gore imbru'd!
The sight struck horror in the standers-by,
But indignation flam'd in David's eye;
He paus'd; then with a tone that made them quake,
To this effect he to the traitors spake:

108

‘As the Lord lives, who hath my soul,’ said he,
‘Redeemed out of all adversity,
‘When one to Ziklag came, and tidings brought
‘That Saul was dead’ (who, for his tidings, thought
He at my hand, a good reward should gain)
‘I caus'd him to be seized on, and slain;
‘How much more then, when wicked men have shed
‘A righteous person's blood upon his bed,
‘In his own house: shall I not now require
‘Of you his blood, and make your death your hire?’

This said, at his command his ready guard,
The treason, with the tritors death reward;
Their hands and feet cut off, upon a spear
Were hang'd in publick to make others fear;
This justice done to Ish-bosheth, his head
In Abner's sepulchre was buried.

The Israelitish elders, who before
To David did incline, do now much more;
Their way is open'd by th'untimely death
Of their own king, unhappy Ish-bosheth;
Their journey, therefore, they to Hebron take,
And to this purpose unto David spake:

‘Behold, great prince, thy bone and flesh are we,
‘And e'en while Saul was king, yet thou wast he
‘That led us out, and brought us in again,
‘Be pleased, therefore, over us to reign;
‘For God hath said, “Thou shalt my people feed,
“And be a captain over Isr'el's seed.”

109

Their message David, with majestick grace,
Receiv'd, and all the elders did embrace;
A solemn league before the Lord they make,
That he not them, nor they should him forsake;
Then forth the consecrated oil they bring,
And over Israel anoint him king;
All hearts are glad, joy reigns in ev'ry eye,
Which shouts and publick triumphs testify;
The vocal nymph the news to fame reports,
Whose trumpet sounds it into foreign courts.

When the solemnities were at an end,
Which on the coronation did attend,
And all things settled; the twice crowned king,
A royal army to the field did bring,
Wherewith th'insulting Jebusites he beat,
And made Jerusalem his royal seat;
The Philistines he smote, who were so bold,
To come and brave him even in his hold;
The Moabites he fully did subdue,
And mighty Hadadezer overthrew;
The Edomites he tributary made,
And Syria having smarted, was afraid;
Abusive Ammon he chastiz'd, and tam'd,
And for his prowess, thro' the east was fam'd.

And yet not more for that, than for his love
To Jonathan, which did itself approve
Long after Jonathan, unhappy prince,
In battle fell, not for his own offence,

110

But for his father's. Friendship that is brave,
Doth death survive, and lives beyond the grave.

David, now having got a little rest,
Bethinks him how his love may be exprest
To Jonathan, his dear deceased friend,
In his posterity; and to that end,
Inquires if any yet remain'd of all,
Descended from the family of Saul,
To whom he, for the sake of Jonathan,
Might kindness shew. They call to mind a man
Whose name was Ziba; him they seek and bring
To court, and straightway he inform'd the king,
That Jonathan had yet a son, by name
Mephibosheth, who of his feet was lame;
For he, poor child, when tidings came that Saul
And Jonathan were slain, receiv'd a fall
Out of his nurse's arms, when, in the fright,
She sought to save him by too hasty flight;
By which disaster he, alas! became
A cripple ever, both his feet were lame.

Him David sent for, and with special grace
Receiving, did at his own table place,
Assuring him, he for his father's sake,
Like care of him as of his own would take;
Then all his grandfather's and father's lands,
Restoring to him, Ziba he commands
To take the charge thereof, the land to till,
And make the best of't, to his utmost skill,

111

And bring the profits to his master's son,
That he in handsome port might live thereon.

Mephibosheth, with kindness overcome,
Tho' lame in feet, was neither rude nor dumb;
But both by gesture and expression shew'd,
The highest marks of humble gratitude.

CHAP. VII.

THE highest pitch of honour now attain'd
By David, and the sov'reign power gain'd;
Thrice had the consecrating oil been shed,
In solemn wise on his majestick head,
His temples cinctur'd with a double crown,
The house of Saul, his rival, quite brought down;
His enemies of him did stand in awe,
And to his neighbours round he gave the law;
His arms brought conquest home; his very name
Struck terror where his armies never came;
Secure he sat upon his awful throne,
By others fear'd, beloved by his own;
All things to make him happy did conspire,
In want of nothing reason could desire.

But how unsafe is greatness! ah, how nigh
Unto prosperity doth danger lie!

112

Beguiling pleasures do on greatness wait,
And vice, still lurking, lies at pleasure's gate;
If in its slips, and hard it is, I doubt,
Where pleasures have free course, to keep it out,
Virtue it doth insensibly destroy,
And brings forth treble grief for single joy.
This David found; and ere he was aware,
Was taken and betray'd in pleasure's snare.

It came to pass, one evening, when the heat
Abated was, which in that clime was great,
That David from his easful bed arose,
And to his palace roof for air he goes;
There walking to and fro, his wand'ring eye,
A naked woman bathing, did espy.

The sight surpriz'd him; yet he pleasure took,
On that attractive object still to look,
For scarcely had he seen so fine a creature
For shape, complexion, and for lovely feature.

Poor David's nature, now set all on sire,
His breast inflaming with undue desire;
He look'd and burnt; he burnt and look'd again,
Nor power had from looking to refrain;
His eyes betray'd his heart; now yield he must
Himself a captive to unruly lust.

Ah! how unsafe it is to let the eye
Into the privacies of women pry!

113

How dangerous to let the Devil catch
The mind a roving from its inward watch!
David was guarded strong enough, no doubt,
To hinder any mischief from without,
But he that will secured be from sin,
Must keep a strict and constant guard within.

Now all his thoughts poor David doth employ,
The party how to find, and to enjoy;
He makes inquiry, and doth quickly find,
One that knew both the woman, and his mind;
By him he understood the beauteous dame
Was Amiel's daughter, Bath-sheba her name,
And that she was the brave Uriah's wife,
Uriah lov'd her as he lov'd his life.
This known, the king, impatient of delay,
Sends messengers; the woman they betray,
And bring her to him; she by him conceives,
And then returning home, the palace leaves.

How miserable is that prince's state,
On whom a set of parasites do wait!
How sad is his condition who must trust
Such as will pander to his lawless lust!
Had they, whom David sent the dame to bring,
Been worthy of a place about a king,
They would have run the hazard of his blame,
To save their master from so foul a shame;
They would have represented to his view
That od'us evil in its proper hue;

114

They would have try'd all means, have strove, have pray'd,
And, rather than have acted, disobey'd.
But ah! such faithful courtiers are as rare
As crows in streams, or fishes in the air.

No help from his had David; they he sent
Were in so bad a work too diligent;
He spake the word, they ran; their errand tell,
Prevail, the woman bring; by her he fell;
He fell, who had such high attainments known,
To whom such special favours God had shown;
He who so late before the ark did dance,
Now could not stand against a woman's glance;
Surpriz'd by a temptation, down he fell,
Who the sweet singer was of Israel;
He from the holy path, aside did start,
Who once, a man was after God's own heart.

Ah! who can hope when such men fall, to stand
Without an eminent supporting hand!
Our life's a war, temptations all assail,
And, without strong resistance, will prevail.
Not kings, we see, can stand, however good
They are, when once they yield to flesh and blood:

After fair Bath-sheba had been at home
Time long enough to know, her fruitful womb,
By which she was not apt to be beguil'd,
Gave her assurance that she was with child,
Forthwith she private notice thereof sent
To David, publick scandal to prevent;

115

This put poor David to his shifts to find
How he the husband and the world might blind.

CHAP. VIII.

MEAN-WHILE Uriah from his home had been,
Seeking immortal fame by arms to win,
Him David straightway sent for home, that he
A cloke to their adultery might be;
Unthinking that he then must be too late,
To cover an amour of such a date.

No sooner good Uriah did receive
The king's command, but forthwith taking leave
Of Joab, to the court his course he bent,
And to his sovereign did himself present;
The king inquires; Uriah doth relate,
Both Joab's welfare, and the army's state.

When he had made an end, and night came on,
The king, impatient till he saw him gone,
Dismiss'd him, and advis'd him haste to make,
Down to his house, and there refreshment take.

Then from his presence forth Uriah went,
And after him a royal mess was sent,
The king concluding he would home repair,
Himself to solace with his (faulty) fair.

116

No farther went Uriah than the gate
Of David's house, where servants us'd to wait,
With whom, his old acquaintance, he consorts,
And unto them the war's success reports;
When bed-time came, amongst the guards he kept,
And, soldier like, amongst the soldiers slept.

Troubled was David, when he heard by some
Next morn Uriah had not been at home;
Yet hiding what he could, his discontent,
He for Uriah to his presence sent,
And with a seeming pity, when he came,
Him in such words as these, did gently blame.

‘What was the matter, over-hardy knight,
‘Thou went'st not down unto thy house last night?
‘Cam'st thou not from thy journey, tir'd and spent?
‘Why art thou of thyself so negligent?
‘I thought thou might'st have borne a bed less hard,
‘Than are the matted benches of my guard;
‘I therefore sent thee home to take thy rest,
‘Where I suppos'd thou might enjoy it best;
‘Hereafter, of thyself more careful be;
‘Thou thinks not what thy loss would be to me.’

With humble thanks Uriah thus reply'd:
‘Isr'el and Judah with the ark abide
‘In tents; lord Joab lieth with his men
‘In open fields encamped; shall I then
‘Go to my house to eat, and merry make,
‘And pleasure in my wife's embraces take?

117

‘The Lord forbid! As lives thy soul, O king,
‘I will not be persuaded to this thing;
‘I shun whatever courage would abate;
‘Soft pleasures do the mind effeminate.’

Thus spake Uriah. And let none suppose
It drop'd by chance, or from a soldier rose,
But heedfully observe it with an eye,
That can through words a Providence descry;
For God was hedging David's way about,
That David's guilt might to his shame break out.

When David had Uriah's answer weigh'd,
He plainly saw, unless he were betray'd,
He never should by him effect the end
For which he for him from the camp did send;
New measures, therefore, David now doth take,
Contrives how he Uriah drunk may make,
Looks on him with a more familiar face,
And now receives him into special grace;
So seems he in Uriah to delight,
As if he were the only favourite.

His feigned kindness quickly grew so great,
That now Uriah must with David eat,
He makes him drink, and drink, and drink again,
'Till with rich wines he overcharg'd his brain.
Thus sin to sin, thus guilt he adds to guilt,
Nor stops until Uriah's blood be spilt;
Thus the allow'd commission of a sin,
Not seldom serves to let another in.

118

Uriah now is drunk; the grapy juice
Hath of his reason robb'd him of the use;
With sprightly wine inflam'd, who would have thought
But he is wife's embraces would have sought?
Yet neither drunk nor sober, could he be
Persuaded either house or wife to see;
But with the guards at night again he lay,
And, snoring, slept his drunkenness away.

The king now hopeless, and enrag'd to think
That neither by his flattery, nor drink,
He could his end obtain; and, harder grown,
(For sin repeated hardens any one)
Resolves, at last, a desperate course to try,
And murder join unto adultery;
No way to save his honour did remain,
He thought, unless he got Uriah slain;
For since he found, that not by any wile,
He the resolv'd Uriah could beguile,
He saw, that if he suffer'd him to live,
He never would the injury forgive;
But, if not seek revenge, at least proclaim
The wrong he suffer'd, and his prince's shame.
Thus reason'd David; on this policy,
The king concludes, Uriah needs must die.
He that had suffer'd too much wrong before,
Lest that discover'd be, must suffer more;
Uriah's guiltless blood must now be spilt,
To make a covering for David's guilt.
But oh! the guilt of guiltless blood thus shed,
Will fall with treble weight on David's head.

119

Ah! what is man, the best of men, when left
Unto himself, of grace divine bereft?

To Joab David doth a letter write,
Commanding him that in the hottest fight,
He should Uriah in the fore-front place,
And, when he is engag'd, retire a-pace,
Leaving him single in the open plain,
That by the enemy he may be slain.

The letter, which contain'd this dire command,
Is sent to Joab by Uriah's hand.
Uriah, void of jealousy and fear,
The fatal letter doth to Joab bear;
Of his own death the instrument he's made;
How easily is innocence betray'd!
So went Bellerophon, whose milder fate
Did unto him prove more propitiate.

When Joab understood his master's mind,
He to Uriah such a place assign'd,
Where, by experience, he before had found
Were valiant men that would defend their ground;
Then falling back, there left him to maintain
The fight alone: so was Uriah slain.

Thus the brave Hittite, by a plot fore-laid,
Valiantly fighting, basely was betray'd;
The first, perhaps, that ever lost his life
For not embracing his most beauteous wife.

120

With speed Uriah's death is signify'd
To David, who his joy could hardly hide.
Uriah's widow, when she heard the news,
Put on the mourning weeds that widows use,
And mourn'd the time; then David took the dame
Home to his house, and she his wife became;
Nor was it long before she bore a son;
But God was sore displeas'd with what was done.

CHAP. IX.

NOW all was hush'd and still. Uriah dead,
His wife translated to king David's bed;
No more by stealth, but now with open face,
The joyful king doth Beth-sheba embrace,
Before his courtiers, doth her court and kiss,
And, without blushing, dares to call her his;
Uriah's blood th'adultery out did blot,
And how that blood was shed, is now forgot;
Dissolv'd in melting pleasures David lies,
And from th'avenger in himself he flies;
Remorse was lost, hardness was enter'd in,
Sensual delights had drown'd the sense of sin.

But David's God, the God who David chose,
And David lov'd, would not his David lose;
For though a strong temptation had prevail'd,
And David sway'd thereby, had grosly fail'd;

121

Yet he who hearts doth search, and reins doth try,
Saw yet in David a sincerity;
His prophet, therefore, God did send to rouse,
The stupid king from his lethargick drowse.

O boundless goodness! O unmeasur'd love!
Which did the bowels of his father move
Towards his erring child; he condescends,
And the first motion makes, for being friends;
Th'offended uses means to raise a sense
In the offender of his foul offence,
That, on repentance, he may mercy show,
And reconciliation thence may flow.

Th'inspired prophet, thus to David sent,
Did, by a harmless wile, him circumvent;
And having in a parable him caught,
The king to be his own condemner brought.

‘Two men,’ said he, ‘did in one city dwell,
‘One very poor, and one in wealth did swell;
‘The rich, of flocks and herds had plenteous store;
‘The poor man had, in all the world, no more
‘But one small ewe-lamb, which he bought and fed,
‘And choicely with his children nourished;
‘Of his own cup it drank, and for its meat
‘He grudg'd it not the same himself did eat;
‘He let it in his bosom lie at night,
‘For, as a daughter, 'twas his chief delight.
‘Now when a stranger to the rich man came
‘To visit him, so void was he of shame,

122

‘That, sparing all his own, he took and drest
‘The poor man's lamb, to entertain his guest,’

With strict attention did king David hear
The prophet's tale; then made it soon appear
How quick his sense was of the poor man's wrong,
And what to th'rich oppressor did belong;
Against the man his hot displeasure brake,
And to the prophet Nathan thus he spake:

‘As lives the Lord, let him be ne'er so high,
‘The man that this hath done shall surely die:
‘Nay, death shall not suffice, but furthermore,
‘He four times over shall the lamb restore;
‘Because, that having plenty of his own,
‘He did this thing, and hath no pity shown.’
So spake the king; but little thought, alas!
That he this sentence on himself did pass.

How partial is the nature of mankind!
Quick-sighted at another's fault, but blind
Unto our own! ourselves how apt to spare,
But unto others, how severe we are!
He that could with an over-hasty breath,
For a less fault, pronounce another's death,
Could just before abuse his neighbour's wise,
And him, without remorse, deprive of life.

No sooner did the heavy sentence come
From David's lips, but Nathan set it home;
Disguises laid aside, the seer began:
“My message is to thee—Thou art the man!”

123

How great was now the guilty king's surprise!
Might have been seen in his dejected eyes;
His conscious blood into his face did flush,
And brought upon his cheeks a scarlet blush,
Which lasted not, but in a while did fail,
And was succeeded by a fainty pale,
As if the guiltless blood he lately spilt
Had thither flow'd, to evidence his guilt,
And then retiring, back again had fled
To shew the stained ground where it was shed.
A great disorder in his face appear'd,
As well from what he felt, as what he fear'd;
His hands, like one that had the palsy, shook;
His trembling knees against each other strook;
Silent he sat, his spirit almost gone,
While the inspired prophet thus went on:

‘Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel,
‘Who in most awful majesty doth dwell,’—
“I over Isr'el thee appointed king,
“And out of all thy troubles thee did bring;
“Out of the hand of Saul I thee did save,
“And unto thee thy master's house I gave;
“Into thine arms thy master's wives I cast,
“And to thee Isr'el made, and Judah fast;
“And if all this had been too small a store,
“I would have added such and such things more.
“Why then didst thou the Lord's command despise
“To do the thing that's evil in his eyes?
“Uriah thou, with Ammon's sword hast slain,
“And with his wife, as with thine own, has lain;

124

“Now, therefore, never shall thy house be free
“From sword, because thou hast despised me,
“Who from the sheep-cote set thee on the throne,
“And took Uriah's wife to be thine own.”

‘Thus saith the Lord,’—“Behold, I'll evil raise
“Out of thy house against thee divers ways;
“Thy wives, before thine eyes, I'll from thee take,
“And let thy neighbour strumpets of them make;
“He with thy wives in open view shall lie,
“Regardless who looks on, or who stands by.
“Thou secretly hast wrought, and in the dark,
“But I will on thee set a publick mark;
“For I will cause this justice to be done
“Before all Israel, and before the sun.”

Thus said, the prophet stopp'd.—The wounded king,
Who of his guilt now felt the piercing sting,
Defence had none to make; no art did use
His soul offence to palliate or excuse;
But fetching from his very inmost part
A doleful groan, which seem'd to rend his heart,
His quiv'ring lips let fall this mournful word,
“Ah me!—I sinned have against the Lord.”
A sigh the sentence clos'd; a sigh that came
So warmly out, it might his lips inflame;
But that his melting eyes a plenteous show'r
Of tears upon his cheeks and beard did pour.

Short the confession was; yet that it flow'd
From a true penitent the accent show'd;

125

It reach'd the prophet's heart, and gain'd belief
Of the sincerity of David's grief;
For God repentance, if it be sincere,
Accepts, tho' short in words it doth appear.

Such David's was; yet was it not in vain,
The gladded prophet alters now his strain,
And with an healing word doth thus begin;—
‘The Lord hath also put away thy sin;
‘Thou shalt not die.’ O! who would be so base
To sin against such undeserved grace!
‘Howbeit, (thus the prophet did proceed)
‘Because thou great occasion by this deed
‘Hast given wicked men the Lord to scorn,
‘The spurious child, which unto thee is born,
‘Shall surely die.’ His word was verify'd,
For, on the seventh day, the infant dy'd.

The prophet now, his message fully done,
Had left the king, and to his house was gone;
But what he from the Lord had to him said,
On David's heart a deep impression made;
His conscience, which before did slumb'ring lie,
Now throughly waken'd, in his face did fly,
And charg'd him home; he felt the wounds within,
Which, on his bleeding heart, were made by sin.

Ah! who his grinding sorrows can express!
Or speak the hundredth part of his distress!
His galling grief, his pity-moving moans,
His deep-fetch'd sighs, and his heart-rending groans!

126

Himself we find, could not deliver these,
Without the help of great hyperboles.

How earnest was he! with what fervency
Unto his God did he for pardon cry!
‘Have mercy on me, O my God!’ he cry'd,
‘And for my sins thy face not from me hide;
‘Purge me with hyssop, cleanse me from my sin,
‘And wash me throughly from all guilt within:
‘Create in me a clean heart, and renew
‘Within me, Lord, a spirit right and true;
‘O! from thy presence cast me not away,
‘Nor take thy spirit from me, Lord, I pray;
‘With thy free spirit me uphold; restore
‘The joy of thy salvation as before.’

Such moving supplications, day and night,
Did he pour forth, which I nor can recite,
Nor need; for he hath couch'd them in such verse
As my short-winded muse cannot rehearse.
Suffice it, therefore, that the reader know
He did not pray in vain; but prayed so,
That he not only pardon did obtain,
But his lost favour did with God regain.

God grant, whoever sins like him may be
As true a contrite penitent as he!

End of the Third Book.

127

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

Tho' the sharp sentence, which in too great haste
Th'unwitting king upon himself had plac'd,
Was mitigated by the clemency
Of David's God, that David might not die;
Yet did the prophet in God's name declare
That he would evil against him prepare,
Which should in his own family arise,
And on him bring the sorest exercise.

This was the doom, tho' more at large exprest,
By which poor David was to be distrest,
Which, though protracted, yet would certain be;
For who can alter a divine decree?
Judgments denounc'd may linger; but at length
They fall more heavy, and with greater strength;
Sometimes the stroke doth at a distance stand,
Yet that which brings it on is near at hand;

128

So in this case some years did intervene
Betwixt the sentence and the tragick scene;
Yet that which led thereto did closely lurk,
And in short time did thus bring on the work.

Of all the many sons which David had,
Amnon, the eldest, was a topping lad,
Who of the Jezreelite, Ahinoam,
Was born soon after she to Hebron came.
A daughter also David had, whose name
Was Tamar, a most beautiful young dame;
Sister she was to Absalom the fair,
David's third son, so noted for his hair.

On this half-sister-princess Amnon cast
A wanton eye; affection grew so fast
Upon him, that, not daring to discover,
For shame or fear, what an unlawful lover
He was; he pin'd away, his cheeks grew pale,
His flesh did waste, his strength began to fail;
The fiery passion, in his bosom pent,
Did inward burn, for want of outward vent.

A friend he had, who unto him was near
Of kin, a friend peculiarly dear,
His father's brother's son, nam'd Jonadab,
Quick-sighted, and too wise to be a blab.

He well observing how from day to day
His princely kinsman pin'd and fell away;

129

For which, since he no outward cause could find,
Concluded something did afflict his mind;
Wherefore, a proper season having got,
He put the question close, inquiring what
It was that on his nature did prevail,
So as to make his countenance look pale,
And flesh decay; imploring not to hide
Ought from his friend in whom he might confide.

Prince Amnon, by his friend thus closely prest,
His love, tho' not without a blush, confest;
The princess Tamar 'tis, said he, I love:—
Oh, that my love should so eccentrick move!
I love my own half-sister, who did spring
From the same root, as I myself, the king;
I love, ah me! I love, yet love in vain,
Hopeless the object of my love to gain.
This is my case; the heat of my desire
Consumes my nature, sets me all on fire.

When Jonadab, than whom no man alive
Knew better how a mischief to contrive,
Had heard the case, he soon discover'd what
Would Amnon please, and thus he laid the plot:

Go, take thy bed, said he, and for a trick,
Put on thy night-cap, feign that thou art sick;
And when thy father comes to see thee, say,
Give leave, I pray, my sister Tamar may
Come to me, and before me dress some meat,
That seeing her prepare it, I may eat.

130

He went no farther; for he knew the prince
Was quick enough to understand his sense;
And if he could but draw the long'd-for dame
Within his reach, knew how to quench his flame.

Amnon, the counsel liking, forthwith took
His bed upon it, and, with puling look,
Dissembled sickness; quickly the report
Of Amnon's illness reach'd the royal court.

The king in haste to Amnon doth repair,
To see his ailing son, the kingdom's heir;
This gave fair room for Amnon to request
He might eat something by his sister drest;
The king consents, and doth his mind declare,
That Tamar should to Amnon's house repair,
And there, by his direction, dress such meat
For him, as he, poor heart! could like to eat.

The princess Tamar did no sooner hear
Her father's order, but with filial fear,
And nimble steps, she to her brother hies,
Who on his bed, dissembling sickness, lies;
She ask'd him how he did, and did bemoan
His danger; but more justly might her own.
The courteous mien, fresh beauty of the dame,
Did more and more the lecher's lust inflame:
She ask'd him what he'd please to have her make
For him to eat; he pitch'd upon a cake:
She to the work address'd herself with haste,
Temper'd the flour, and wrought it into paste:

131

Her milk-white hands, and slender fingers, frame
The pliant paste, till it a cake became;
Then having bak'd it also at his fire,
(Each turn and motion height'ning his desire),
She brought it to him; but he put it by,
His room was overfill'd with company:
But order given that it clear'd should be,
And none left in it but himself and she;
He then requested that she would draw near
And bring the mess; she did so without fear.
But when, alas! within his reach she came,
He laid fast hold upon the lovely dame;
Then taking her about the neck, he kist her,
And bluntly said, ‘Come lie with me, my sister.’

Surpris'd, the damsel trembled, and would fain
Have from him got; she strove, but strove in vain;
He held her fast; she then began to plead,
And for her honour, thus did intercede:

‘Oh! force me not, my brother! I entreat
‘Thee to consider, that the sin is great;
‘Great in itself, greater in thee to me,
‘So nearly link'd by consanguinity;
‘Forbear, I pray forbear, thy lust restrain;
‘Thine honour, mine, our father's, do not stain
‘With such infamy; thou know'st full well,
‘No such thing may be borne in Israel.
‘Should'st thou defile me, where could I abide!
‘Where find an hole my shamed head to hide!

132

‘Thou too, the heir of our great father's crown,
‘Born to the kingdom, bred in high renown,
‘Thy father's darling, and the people's joy,
‘What will become of thee, if thou destroy
‘Their hopes by perpetrating such a crime
‘As this? well might thou thenceforth curse the time
‘Thou e'er saw Tamar; for thou then (ah me!)
‘But as a fool in Israel would'st be;
‘Regard thine honour, mine, our family,
‘And rob me not of my virginity:
‘Force me not, brother, force me not; but rather
‘Ask me in marriage of our royal father;
‘He to bestow me on thee will not fail:—
‘O let my pray'rs and tears with thee prevail!’

This said, she with her tears bedew'd his face;
But he, whom lust had quite bereft of grace,
Her most importune prayers would not hear,
But to her supplications stopp'd his ear,
And being stronger, did by force deflow'r
The princely dame, resisting to her pow'r.

Great is the diff'rence betwixt lawful love
And lawless lust. That doth itself approve,
By its effects to be indeed divine,
As having a cœlestial origin;
That constant is, and by enjoyment grows
Still stronger, which its innate virtue shows:

But t'other, which is miscall'd love, and must,
If rightly nam'd, be styled filthy lust,

133

From sensual concupiscence doth flow,
Which shews its parentage is from below;
This likes to take a taste of ev'ry one,
Dally with all, but constant be to none;
And this, how hot soever it doth burn,
After enjoyment, can to hatred turn.

Such love was Amnon's, whose uncurb'd desire,
After his sister, set him all on fire;
He burn'd, he flam'd, consum'd, and needs would die,
Unless he might with his own sister lie;
Yet, when he once his brutish end had gain'd,
And, by a rape, his sister's honour stain'd,
He, in a moment, chang'd his amorous theme,
And flew as high in th'opposite extreme;
He, who but now was over hot and bold,
Is now become to her exceeding cold;
He, that in nothing else could take delight,
But her fair face, now loaths and shuns the sight;
She, who before his heart did captivate,
Is now become the object of his hate;
He hates her now; he hates her now much more,
With perfect hatred, than he lov'd before;
He hates her so, he can't her presence bear,
But every hour she stays, he thinks a year;
That nothing might to shew his hate be lacking,
He rudely bids her—up, away, be packing.

This surly carriage added to the grief
She had before, nor knew she where relief,

134

Oppress'd, to find; she told him, on her part,
There was no cause he thus should break her heart;
Wish'd him to weigh whether this would not bring
Greater displeasure on him from the king.

He the deaf ear to all she said did turn,
And churlishly did at her counsel spurn;
Then call'd his man, and sternly bid him put
That woman out, and fast the door to shut.
He did so. She, poor princess, did lament
The double injury; forthwith she rent
Her royal robe, of divers colours made,
With which king's virgin-daughters were array'd;
The lovely tresses of her well-set hair,
Her trembling fingers, through deep sorrow tare:
Then putting ashes on her head, she laid
Her hand thereon, and mournful accents made,
While to her brother Absalom's she went,
Where she more freely might her case lament.

As soon as Absalom the ravish'd dame
Did see, well knowing also whence she came,
He straight suspecting what had her befell,
Begg'd of her that she would not stick to tell
Him how 'twas with her; whether Amnon had
Abus'd her, and from thence she was so sad.
She, blushing, rather to acknowledge, chose
Her wrong by looks, than shame by words disclose,
He understood her; and considering
How dear prince Amnon was unto the king;

135

How high in favour of the court and town
He stood as heir-apparent to the crown,
Concluded in himself 'twould be but vain
To hope for justice, if she should complain;
Therefore he wish'd his sister to conceal
The wrong sustained, until he could deal
With Amnon for it: she submits to wait;
And liv'd with him, but much disconsolate.

Absalom's guess was right, that 'twould be vain,
For Tamar of prince Amnon to complain
Unto the king; for though he very wroth
Is said to be, yet was he no less loth,
When to his ear this foul transgression came,
To lay on Amnon punishment or shame.

But Absalom did bear the thing in mind,
And in due time to be reveng'd design'd;
For in his heart he could not choose but hate
The man that durst his sister violate,
How near, or high soever: such a stain
Will hardly be got out till he is slain
That gave it; therefore Absalom is set
Amnon to kill, when he fit time can get.

136

CHAP. II.

TWICE had the restless and unwearied sun
His yearly course throughout the zodiack run,
Ere Absalom a season fit could find,
To execute the vengeance he design'd
On Amnon for the wickedness he wrought,
In the dishonour he on Tamar brought;
But now a sit occasion did present,
And he to take it too, was fully bent.

A great sheep-shearing, at his country seat,
Had Absalom, at which a noble treat
He meant to make, and thither to invite
The king and court, then Amnon there to smite.

To court he hastens, and acquaints the king,
In humble manner, with his sheep-shearing;
Entreats that he, at the set time and place,
His feast would with his royal presence grace.

To suit his state, and his retinue large,
The king consider'd, would enhance the charge;
He pleaded this, and handsomely refus'd,
And hop'd his son would hold the king excus'd.

137

It suited well; and sure he lik'd it best,
Without the king, so Amnon were his guest;
Amnon, for whom the entertainment's made,
Whom to destroy, the subtle train is laid.
Yet crafty Absalom, the more to hide
His bloody purpose, still himself apply'd
With greater earnestness to gain the king
To come, and with him all his sons to bring,
But all in vain; the king will not be won
By his entreaties to oppress his son;
Yet, that he might his good acceptance show,
His blessing he upon him did bestow.

Then Absalom, by this embolden'd, prest
To let his brother Amnon be his guest.
Why Amnon? ask'd the king. Because, said he,
Amnon, in dignity, is next to thee.
The gentle king, from all suspicion free,
And overcome by importunity,
Yields, that not Amnon only, but the rest
Of the king's sons should go at his request.

The point thus gain'd, now Absalom doth part
From court, and hastes with unrelenting heart,
Unto his country seat, that he might there
The proper means to his design prepare.

Then of his servants, calling to him such,
As in his cause, he knew would never grutch.

138

Their lives to lose; he thus the matter breaks,
And in such terms as these his purpose speaks:

‘Mark well (said he) when Amnon at the feast,
‘Shall have drunk high, and over-charg'd his breast
‘With gen'rous wine; when I say, Amnon smite,
‘Fall on, strike home, fear not, but kill him quite:
‘Remember, it is I that give command;
‘Be valiant then, and to your weapons stand.’

Accordingly, his brethren being come,
And all the guests, to feast with Absalom,
He, that he Amnon might the more beguile,
His hatred hiding with a feigned smile,
Embrac'd, caress'd him, and for special grace,
He straight preferr'd him to the chiefest place;
Ply'd him with sprightly wines, till he perceiv'd
The wine had him of sense well nigh bereav'd,
Then starting up, he gave the fatal word,
‘Smite Amnon.’ Forthwith each assassin's sword
Was sheathed in him, ev'ry one let fly
At Amnon, until Amnon dead did lie.

But oh! the dreadful tumult that it made
Among the guests! each held himself betray'd;
The royal stock were most of all perplex'd,
Of whom each fear'd his turn would be the next,
Which to prevent, all to their mules did hie,
And back to court, fear adding wings, did fly.

139

But tho,' with utmost speed they cut their way,
Yet long-tongu'd Fame made greater haste than they,
The babbling dame before them got to court,
And of the sad disaster made report;
And as her nature is to magnify
Th'ill news she bears, not sticking at a lye,
She, to exaggerate the crime, did feign
That Absalom had all his brothers slain,
So that not one of them alive was left,
But of his sons the king was quite bereft.

Such doleful news sufficient was to shake
The strongest mind, and make the heart to ake;
The king with garments rent, upon the ground
Himself did cast, his sorrows did abound,
And all his servants, with their garments rent,
The loss of so much royal blood lament.

This Jonadab observing, he who gave
The counsel which brought Amnon to his grave,
He begg'd the king not to believe that all
His sons were slain, Amnon alone did fall;
That this which he related was most true,
He could assure him; for, said he, I knew,
Long since that Absalom, from the very hour
Wherein his brother Amnon did deflow'r
His sister Tamar, had his death design'd,
And only waited until he could find
A season for't, which since he now did gain,
He caus'd his brother Amnon to be slain,

140

Thereby to sacrifice, to Tamar's honour,
Him that had brought so great reproach upon her.

By that time Jonadab his tale had told,
Which scarce as yet could gain belief, behold
The king's sons enter'd, in a frightful maze,
And on the king, as he on them, did gaze,
'Till he and they into loud weeping brake,
And in sad accents mutual sorrow spake.

Mean-while young Absalom, to save his head
From stroke of justice, for protection fled
Unto his grandfather's, king Talmai's court,
Where he might hope for safety and support:
But David long did Amnon's death bewail,
Which yet could not Uriah's countervail.

This is the second instance may be giv'n
Of the fulfiling that decree of heaven,
By God denounc'd on David, when he says,
“From thy own house, against thee divers ways,
“I'll evil bring.”—First, Amnon did deflow'r
His daughter Tamar, put into his pow'r
By him; than which, ah! what more foul dishonour,
Poor, harmless princess, could have come upon her?
What home-bred mischief on himself could fall,
Which could a worthy mind more deeply gall?

This seem'd the first; and scarcely two years after
His son and heir had thus defil'd his daughter,

141

That injury her brother did repay,
And in revenge the wretched Amnon slay.
Had David justice upon Amnon done,
He might have mended, and not lost his son.
This was a cutting evil, and must need
Strike deep, and cause a father's heart to bleed:
This was the second stroke, by which that word
Was verify'd:—David, beware the third.

CHAP. III.

NOW had prince Absalom three winters spent
At Geshur, whither he for safety went,
When David, having for his Amnon shed
A flood of tears; but seeing he was dead,
His grief subsides, and soon paternal love,
Its place resuming, in his breast doth move
To Absalom, right heir to Israel's throne,
Now Amnon's dead, and Chileah also gone.

This hankering mind, Joab's observing eye,
Did in the king, his uncle, soon espy,
And being glad to find it, sought a way
How he might Absalom to court convey,
Not doubting but, if he could that obtain,
The royal favour he would soon regain;
This to effect, a wily train he laid
The king to circumvent; who, thus betray'd,

142

Unwittingly should pardon Absalom,
And that once done, should then recall him home.

To Tekoah he sent, where then did dwell
A woman who in wisdom did excel;
Her he instructed, when arriv'd, to dress
Herself in mourning weeds; then get access
To David's presence, and before him feign
She mourned, for a son of her's was slain
By his own brother, whom the family
Rose up against, condemning him to die;
Then, to beseech the king her son to save
From being buried in his brother's grave.

Instructed thus, she to the court did go,
And, as a suppliant, herself did throw
At the king's feet; and being ask'd the case,
Her artful tale she told, which took such place
In the unwary king, that thus he spake:
‘Go home; and proper care for thee I'll take.’
She, glad of this, did yet her suit renew,
Once and again, until the king she drew
To say, ‘Thy son for this shan't lose an hair;’
And this he did not only say, but sware.

When thus the wily dame the king had wrought
To grant unwittingly the thing she sought,
Obtaining leave, the matter home did bring,
And fairly did apply it to the king;
Told him, that he was that avenger, whom
She fear'd, on the behalf of Absalom,

143

Besought him to consider, that unless
He pardon'd him, and did his people bless
With their beloved Absalom; nor he
From danger could, nor they from fear be free;
She begg'd that he, as father and as king,
Would pardon Absalom, and home would bring
His banished, and him again restore
Unto the grace in which he stood before.

The king, himself now finding over-reach'd,
As once before, when Nathan to him preach'd
That saving sermon; with this odds, that he
Was guilty then, but now from guilt was free;
Injoin'd the woman, that she should not hide
From him the thing he ask'd, but should confide
In him; that he would no advantage take
Against her; she consenting, thus he spake,
‘Is not the hand of Joab in this thing?’
She own'd it was. Then Joab hither bring,
The king reply'd.—And Joab being come,
He gave command, ‘Go fetch the young man home.’

The general's countenance his joy display'd,
And thanks return'd, and low obeisance made;
To Geshur's splendid court with speed he flies;
The prince receiv'd him with a glad surprise:
The welcome news thro' all the court resounds;
The joy was gen'ral, yet in decent bounds,
On Absalom's account, who ever since
He came to Geshur, like a noble prince,

144

Himself conducted wisely and so well,
No complaisance could Absalom's excel;
So gentle, courteous, and so princely fair;
Each heart was gain'd by his obliging air;
His smiles were honours, ev'ry courtier strove,
Himself to render worthy of his love.
This him to them so feelingly endears,
They could not think of parting without tears;
Yet go he must: affection, friendship, all
Must vail, and yield to a paternal call:
Tho' duty seem'd to claim the greatest share,
Yet int'rest here no little weight did bear.

With Joab therefore Absalom returns
From Geshur to Jerusalem, and burns
With thirsty hopes, and expectation great,
Of highest favour from the royal seat.

But, oh! the disappointment it must bring
To his aspiring mind, when from the king,
Joab returning, let him understand,
It was to him the king's express command,
That he should straight to his own house resort,
And not attempt to shew himself at court.
For well the king consider'd 'twas not meet,
Altho' his love was great, his son should see't,
Nor that he him to special grace should take,
Who had so lately made his heart to ake.

Though, therefore, circumvented by a wile,
He had recall'd him from his self-exile,

145

And sav'd his life from danger of the law,
He held it best to keep him still in awe,
Hoping, in time, he to a better sense,
Might thereby bring him of his great offence.

When two full years prince Absalom had lain
Under confinement, not without disdain,
That he had not been suffer'd in that space
His father to salute, or see his face;
Impatient of restraint, he now did send
For Joab, both his kinsman and his friend,
To try if he, howe'er he sped, would bring
Him to the long'd-for presence of the king.

But truly Joab, who perhaps might find,
How to his son the king did stand inclin'd,
Would not at first, nor second summons come;
Which usage so provok'd prince Absalom,
That he resolv'd, since fair means seem'd to fail,
He'd try by rougher methods to prevail;
He bid his servants, therefore, set on fire
A field of Joab's. Joab, to inquire
The cause of this abuse, did quickly come,
And this blunt answer had from Absalom:

‘Thou know'st I for thee sent, once and again,
‘But thou from coming to me didst refrain,
‘No other means be'ng left, I this did take,
‘To see if int'rest would thee kinder make;
‘Thee to the king now suffer me to send,
‘And beg he to my life will put an end,

146

‘Rather than under this restraint me keep,
‘Confin'd so, that abroad I may not peep.
‘Why didst thou me, a most unhappy wretch!
‘From grandsire Talmai's court in Geshur fetch,
‘Under pretence, that I should be restor'd
‘Unto the favour of my royal lord?
‘Better it were, I thither might go back,
‘Where I nor liberty, nor love, did lack,
‘Than here remain, where I no comfort have,
‘But what arises from an hoped grave;
‘Therefore beseech the king me once to grace,
‘With the fair aspect of his royal face;
‘If live I may not in his gracious eye,
‘Let me not live at all; I choose to die.’

Though Joab gladly would himself excuse
From going on this errand; yet refuse
He knew not how; the prince hard presses for't,
And he o'ercome, doth trudge away to court.
Come thither, he a proper season waits,
And then so aptly to the king relates,
The moving case of his beloved son;
His father's fondness soon he gain'd upon,
Affection help'd his judgment to betray,
And to the prince's suit prepares the way;
For now affection made his judgment doubt,
If he against his son should still hold out,
He might endanger, ere he was aware,
The driving of his son into despair;
Wherefore he order'd Joab straight to bring
Absalom to his presence; th'only thing

147

By both desir'd. Joab, o'erjoy'd, doth haste
To Absalom, and brings him back as fast.
He to the king doth all submission show,
And at his royal feet himself doth throw;
The king in kindness lifts him from the ground,
Glad such humility in him was found;
Embraces and salutes him with a kiss,
In sign he pardon'd what he'd done amiss.

CHAP. IV.

OH, the intemp'rance of th'ambitious mind!
To no due bounds or medium confin'd!
How doth it swell! how doth it soar on high!
As if it fain would climb above the sky.

This topping temper soon itself did show
In Absalom, and wrought his overthrow.
He that at home, confin'd but t'other day,
Greatly depress'd in mind, obscurely lay,
O'erwhelm'd almost with grief and cold despair,
No sooner felt the warmth of courtly air,
But as the winter-fly, whom heat doth bring
To sense, begins to buz and take the wing;
So he the royal favour feeling, straight
Took wing, and soar'd above his proper state.

148

Unsteady nature, varying like the wind,
Hurries to each extreme th'unstable mind;
At sea becalm'd, we wish some brisker gales
Would on us rise, and fill our limber sails:
We have our wish; and straight our skiff is toss'd
So high, we are in danger to be lost.
At land we would be foremost, make a stir,
And ride at neck-and-all, with whip, and spur;
We would be, would have all, are loath to stay
For future rights, 'till Providence make way.

This is the nature of ambitious man,
Soaring as fast, as high too as he can;
Whereas, would we but bridle our desire,
'Till the due time, we might rise safely higher.

This was the ruin of this goodly prince,
Let loose too soon; his lofty mind e'er since,
Aim'd nothing lower than the highest seat,
Thought nothing for himself, too good or great;
He on the crown look'd with a longing eye,
Nor spake, nor dream'd of ought but monarchy,
And whensoe'er he saw the royal throne,
Could scarce forbear to call that seat his own;
His own it might have been, would he have staid
Until his father's head was fairly laid;
But his impatience thought each day a year,
Each year an age, until the throne was clear;
Nor would he stay 'till Providence should make
His way to th'crown, but his own way would take.

149

Accordingly, he did assume such state,
As far transcends the highest subject's rate;
Horses he did, and chariots too provide,
And fifty men, in whom he could confide,
To run before him; which might seem to be
Either for state, or for security.
High state it shew'd, if these his lackeys were;
A strong defence, if he did them prepare
For his life-guard. On which soe'er account
It was, it did a subject's state surmount.

This pomp, however, made the people gaze,
And in the mob did admiration raise;
For vulgar eyes with gaudy shews are caught,
And, from admiring, to submission brought;
But he had no other ways to circumvent
The better sort, and thus to work he went:

Early each morn he to the court would go,
And there, beside the gate, would stand, that so
Whatever suitor to the king did come
For judgment, must pass by prince Absalom;
Then would he call him near, and ask his name,
What his affair might be, and whence he came;
Then feigning a concern the matter might
Go well, he'd say, ‘Take care thy cause be right:’
But then with down-cast look, and shaking head,
Added, ‘The king hath no man in his stead
‘Deputed thee to hear;’ so that though right
Thy cause should be, thou suffer may'st by might.

150

Then, in a kind of discontented tone,
As if he did the people's case bemoan,
He'd mutter something; then would make a stop,
And in a softer tone this wish would drop:—
‘Would I were made chief justice in the land!
‘That every man who hath a cause in hand,
‘Might come to me, and I would do him right,
‘How poor soe'er; none should oppress by might;
‘Would I were on the bench, that I from thence
‘Might equal justice unto all dispense!’

When thus himself he'd artfully extoll'd,
And thereby the poor suitor had cajoll'd
To bow before him, and obeisance make,
Into his arms he would the client take,
Hug, and embrace him, nor would him dismiss
Till he had charm'd him with a treach'rous kiss.

Thus did the son, by such alluring arts,
Bereave the father of his people's hearts,
And draw them to himself; while the good king,
Of all things, least suspected such a thing.

By this time Absalom is thought to be
Forty years old, and finding now that he
So strong a party had, that he durst venture
Upon the crown, by force of arms to enter,
And drive his too kind father from the throne,
Which he, among his faction, call'd his own;
He held it best, yet policy to use,
His royal parent further to abuse,

151

And gain some time, from his beguiled father,
That so he might his scattered forces gather,
Unto a gen'ral rendezvous, and then
Pour on the king a mighty host of men.

For this end, therefore, to the court he went,
And that he might be sure to circumvent
The king, this feigned tale he did devise,
His treason with religion to disguise.

‘While I at Geshur did an exile live,
‘I vow'd a vow, that if the Lord would give
‘Me favour in thy sight, and bring me home,
‘That I in peace unto this place might come,
‘Then would I to the Lord an offering make
‘At Hebron, where I life at first did take;
‘Now, therefore, gracious sire, be pleas'd, I pray,
‘To grant thy servant leave, that go I may
‘To Hebron, and perform the vow I made
‘Unto the Lord.’ The good king thus betray'd
By feigned words, said, ‘Go in peace.’ He might
Have better said, ‘Come back in peace at night.’
But wise men, good men, suffer'd are sometimes
To fall into the snares their former crimes
Have for them laid; thus this unwitting king
Helps forward that which must upon him bring
The judgment long since giv'n; Uriah's blood
Is not yet silenc'd, but still cries aloud.

152

To Hebron now prince Absalom doth post,
And sends his scouts abroad, through every coast
Of Israel, that they might notice give
To all his friends who did dispersed live
In all the tribes; that when they once should hear
The trumpet sound, they should for him appear
In arms embody'd, and where'er they came
Amongst their neighbours they should him proclaim,
And that not faintly, but in lofty strain,
Say, ‘Absalom doth now in Hebron reign.’

With Absalom too from Jerus'lem went
Two hundren chosen men, who his intent
Knew nothing of, but went unto his feast,
By which his strength and numbers were increas'd;
For these were men of choice abilities
For war; as well to fight, as to advise.

But he for counsel chiefly did rely
Upon Ahithophel, whose fame so high
Was in esteem, that whatsoe'er he said
Was as the oracle of God obey'd;
Him who had counsellor to David been,
Absalom now did to his faction win;
And from his city, Giloh, did the wretch
To his head-quarters now at Hebron fetch;
And now this foul conspiracy grew strong,
The people did so thick to Hebron throng.

2 Sam. xii. 11.

153

CHAP. V.

WHILE thus the son, with a disloyal mind,
His father to dethrone by force design'd,
Some loyal subject, who had notice got
Of both the preparation and the plot,
Sped to the court, that he might timely bring
The news, howe'er unwelcome to the king,
That he might not, altho' he were betray'd,
At unawares be slain, or pris'ner made.

Half breathless rushing in, he therefore said,
‘Alas! my lord, O king, thou art betray'd!
‘The men of Israel are from thee rent,
‘And Absalom to crown are fully bent;
‘Him they already have proclaimed king,
‘And mean thy scepter from thy hand to wring;
‘So universally they take his part,
‘As if in this they all had but one heart,
‘And he is drawing out his troops apace,
‘As if he aim'd to seize thee in this place.’

So strange a message, so unthought a thing,
No wonder if it did surprise the king;
Yet did it not from him his judgment take,
Nor him so wholly void of counsel make,
But that he thought 'twas better leave the city,
Than hazard it unto the rebel's pity.

154

Calling his servants, therefore, ‘Come,’ said he,
‘Since we're betray'd, arise and let us flee;
‘If Absalom should find us in this place,
‘He'll sack the town, perhaps, if not deface
‘The royal buildings, and, us to despite,
‘The people also, that are in it, smite.
‘Whereas, if we be gone, us he'll pursue,
‘So place and people may that hurt eschew.’

This said, and in his house ten women left,
He, of his native courage not bereft,
March'd forth; his household-servants him attend,
And unto Kidron-brook their course they bend.

When there arriv'd, his little troop he musters,
More like the gleanings than the thickset clusters
Of a full vintage; yet enongh to shew
He had some friends yet left, tho' but a few.

Besides his household, which was large, went o'er
Six hundred fighting men, who long before
Had been companions of his suff'ring state
Under king Saul, and whom no adverse fate
Could make to flinch, or so far to transgress
The bounds of loyalty, as in distress
To leave him; these his vet'ran soldiers were,
And in his cause, would sell their lives full dear;
These were his life-guards, men of wond'rous might,
Strong, hardy, brave, and valiant in fight.

155

With these the gallant Ittai did consort
The noble Gittite lately come to court;
The king observing him approach the brook,
Thus kindly to the gen'rous alien spoke:
‘Wherefore should'st thou unhapp'ly take a part
‘In my misfortunes, who a stranger art
‘But lately come; return into the city,
‘Thou yet art safe; and it would be great pity
‘That I should draw thee into danger, who
‘Neither knows what to do, nor where to go;
‘Take back thy brethren, therefore, and abide
‘With the new king, till God the cause decide,
‘And for the kindness thou to me dost show,
‘May truth and mercy always with thee go.’

The noble Gittite, with a brave disdain,
Heard out the king; but then could not refrain
From telling him how much himself he held
In honour bound to serve him in the field;
He, therefore, solemnly protested, that
He would not leave him in his adverse state,
But, with his leave, wherever he should bend
His course, he would upon him there attend;
Come life or death, he ne'er would him forsake,
But with him to the last his lot would take.

So brave a resolution needs must cheer
The king, not much inur'd to let in fear;
Then passing on together without stay,
They to the wilderness direct their way.

156

But Zadock and Abiathar, who were
At that time priests, and of the ark took care,
Fearing some injury it might receive,
If at Jerusalem they it should leave,
Had brought it with them; which when David saw,
He stopp'd, and with a reverential awe,
To Zadock said, ‘Bear back the ark again
‘Into its place, and let it there remain;
‘For, if the Lord should me vouchsafe the grace,
‘That I once more with joy may see his face,
‘He'll bring me back, and I shall then behold
‘His habitation, as in days of old.
‘But if he thus say, “I have no delight
“In David;”—lo, I stand here in his sight,
‘Ready to bear, with unrepining mind,
‘What he to do to me, shall be inclin'd;
‘For well I know his judgments all are just,
‘And in his mercy I repose my trust.’

The ark dispos'd; yet was not David clear,
He something had to say in Zadock's ear;
He therefore ask'd him, ‘Art not thou a seer?
‘Thou, and Abiathar too, thy compeer?
‘You, therefore, both will out of danger be,
‘Your office giving you immunity;
‘Return into Jerusalem, and stay
‘As near to Absalom as well you may;
‘Explore his counsels, pick up what you can,
‘And send it to me by some trusty man;
‘Thy son and his, fit messengers may be
‘To bring intelligence from you to me;

157

‘I in the plain above will stay until
‘I hear from you how things go, well or ill.’

Then parting, with the ark the priests go back;
The king went forward, tho' with pace but slack;
Grief now seiz'd deeper, from a sense that he,
Must from the ark of God thus banish'd be,
And that by his own son (rebellious child!
To whom he'd ever been but over mild)
But then considering, that the Lord his God
Did him chastise in mercy with his rod,
He call'd to mind Uriah's blood, and wept,
Watering with tears the ground whereon he stept;
Barefoot he went, and had his hoary head,
Sure sign of highest grief, close covered;
But when he had, at length, attain'd the top
Of Olivet, he there did make a stop,
And worshipped the Lord with humble heart,
Kissing the sacred hand which made him smart.

While here he stay'd, good Hushai came to meet him,
And with his kind condoling strains did greet him;
Hushai, his faithful servant and true friend,
Whom hearty sorrow made his garment rend,
And earth to lay upon his mournful head;
Hushai at court, to courtly counsels bred,
Hushai than whom, the king no servant had,
More able, nor to serve his lord more glad.

The king at sight, concluding where he best
Might be dispos'd, to serve his interest,

158

Said to him, ‘If thou passest on with me,
‘Thou unto me shalt but a burden be;
‘Go, therefore, to the city, and salute
‘King Absalom; that done, prefer thy suit,
‘That thou mayst be his servant, as thou wast
‘His father's faithful servant in days past;
‘By this means thou the counsels of the great
‘Ahithophel mayst, for my good, defeat.’
Then him directing how he might convey
Intelligence, each took his proper way.

Not far had David gone beyond the top
Of Olive's mount, when he another stop
Was fain to make; there Ziba ready stood,
Holding two asses, laden both with food,
Fine manchet, summer fruits, and luscious wine,
Whereon the king might, when he pleased, dine.

Well might the king suppose this present came
From his friend's son, Mephibosheth the lame,
Since Ziba brought it, who full well he knew
Was steward to Mephibosheth. This drew
The king to ask, ‘Where is thy master's son,
‘That he came not?’ False Ziba thereupon
Reply'd, ‘He at Jerusalem doth stay,
‘Blown up with hopes; nor did he stick to say,—
‘Now shall the house of Israel restore
‘To me the crown which my grandfather wore.’

The king, not Ziba's treachery suspecting,
Too easily believ'd him; and reflecting

159

On the detestable ingratitude,
Which he suppos'd Mephibosheth had shew'd,
Not having time to hear the cause, forsook
The course of justice, and, for granted, took
The proofless charge of a designing knave,
And thereupon a partial judgment gave;
Whereby he from the innocent, unheard,
Took all he had, and all that all conferr'd
On the unjust accuser, who deserv'd
A rope much rather, had not justice swerv'd.
The fawning traitor having sped so well,
Upon his knees before king David fell,
And, full o'th'wond'rous gratitude he feign'd,
Gave thanks for what his treachery had gain'd.

Near Bahurim, as David pass'd, appear'd
A rude insulter of the vulgar herd,
From Saul descended, Shimei by name,
Who loudly rail'd, and cursed as he came.
‘Come out,’ said he, ‘come out, thou man of blood,
‘Thou son of Belial, who too long hast stood;
‘The Lord hath now return'd upon thee all
‘The guiltless blood, which in the house of Saul
‘Hath by thy means been shed; the kingdom thou
‘Usurped hadst, is taken from thee now,
‘And given to thy son; thou taken art
‘In the devices of thine evil heart.’

Nor stay'd he here. From words he fell to blows;
Both dust and stones he at king David throws,

160

And on his servants, who about him were
On either side; to whom 'twas hard to bear.

Abishai, David's nephew, seem'd to take
This most to heart, and thus the king bespake:
‘Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king?
‘Let me go to him, and his head I'll bring.’

But David (who, altho' right well he knew,
That railing Shimei's charge was quite untrue,
So far as he unto the house of Saul
Apply'd it, where he had no guilt at all;
Yet, in the book of conscience daily read
His guilt and doom, for blood unjustly shed,
Uriah's blood, for which he knew full well,
This judgment from the Lord upon him fell)
Would not permit Abishai, for his sake,
Veng'ance on cursing Shimei to take.
‘Let him curse on,’ said he; ‘for if he curse
‘By God's command, who can think him the worse?
‘Don't you behold,’ said he, ‘that my own son,
‘Who from my bowels sprang, and cause hath none,
‘Usurps my throne, hath kindled mortal strife
‘Amongst my subject, yea, and seeks my life?
‘How much more then may this rude Benjamite
‘Be borne with, tho' he do me great despite!
‘Let him alone. If God hath bid him curse,
‘It may, perhaps, for me be ne'er the worse;
‘Who knows, but that the Lord on me may look
‘With pity, when he sees how well I took

161

‘Th'affliction he laid on me; and with good
‘May me requite, for Shimei's cursing mood.’

CHAP. VI.

BY this time to Jerusalem was come,
In royal equipage, king Absalom;
Leading, besides his train, a numerous host
Of armed men, drawn out of every coast.

Amongst his friends, who made the greatest haste
Him to salute, Hushai was not the last,
He coming to his presence, cry'd aloud,
‘God save the king, God save the king,’ and bow'd;
Under which words he might his meaning hide,
For they might well to David be apply'd.

Absalom had a mind, it seems, to try
Whether he safely might on him rely,
Wherefore he, at first meeting, on him play'd,
And, with a kind of exprobration, said,
‘How now! Is this thy kindness to thy friend!
‘Why went'st thou not, that thou might'st him defend!’

‘Nay, but his will I be,’ Hushai reply'd,
‘Him will I serve, with him will I abide,
‘Whom God, and all the men of Israel choose,
‘None shall me of unfaithfulness accuse;

162

‘Should not I serve in presence of his son,
‘As I thy father serv'd; now he is gone,
‘Surely, as I was then at his command,
‘So will I henceforth in thy presence stand.’
All which he so equivocally spake,
That each the words might in his own sense take.
Self-flatt'ring Absalom, elate with pride,
The whole, as in his favour meant apply'd,
And straight, by honest guile, in part deceiv'd,
Among his council Hushai he receiv'd.
A council called, he bid them think upon
The work, and tell him what should first be done.
Ahithophel, who would not take it well,
That any but himself, should bear the bell,
Stood up, and Absalom he thus bespake:—
‘Thy father's concubines directly take,
‘And in most publick manner them defile,
‘Which will reputed be a crime so vile
‘That nothing ever can for it atone,
‘So will the people cleave to thee alone.’
The counsel pleas'd, Absalom lik'd it well,
All praise their oracle, Ahithophel.

Forthwith a tent on the house-top was spread,
Where Absalom his father's wives should bed;
He did so, void of grace, and void of shame,
And publickly his father did defame;
By which the sentence that before from heav'n,
Was by the prophet, unto David given,

163

Was now fulfill'd, fulfill'd to the extent;—
May the example still the like prevent!

Now did the treacherous Ahithophel,
Finding his wicked counsel pleas'd so well,
Proceed to counsel further. ‘Now let me
‘Forthwith choose out twelve thousand men,’ said he,
‘And go on the pursuit this very night,
‘While David's weary, and unfit to sight;
‘So shall we strike him, and his men with fear,
‘That they'll forsake him, and we'll smite i'th' rear
‘The king alone, whom only thou dost lack,
‘To be cut off, and bring the people back.’

This counsel was approv'd of by all
Then present; yet king Absalom bid, call
Hushai the Archite, ‘that,’ said he, ‘we may
‘Hear also what he in this case can say.’

Hushai brought in, the king to him did tell
The counsel given by Ahithophel;
Then ask'd, ‘Dost thou approve it? if not, shew
‘Thy reasons, and direct us what to do.’

The wary Archite, knowing very well
The haughty temper of Ahithophel,
That he might not be thought him to neglect,
Express'd his mind in words to this effect:

‘Although I know, of all that fill this table,
‘There is not in the main a man more able

164

‘For counsel than the great Ahithophel,
‘Who doth in wisdom others far excel;
‘Yet at this time, and in the present case,
‘I must confess I cannot go his pace.

‘If thou with so much speed should'st forward rush,
‘Thou'lt hazard all upon too sharp a push;
‘Thy father is a man of war, thou know'st,
‘And will not lodge at night among the host;
‘He now, no doubt, is in some pit or cave,
‘Where he himself, from a surprise may save.
‘Besides, both he and all his men, we know,
‘Are mighty men of valour, and will show,
‘When once engag'd, no weariness in fight,
‘But, stung with fury, will exert their might;
‘Chaf'd, like the mountain bear of whelps bereav'd,
‘With double force, as doubly they're aggriev'd,
‘They'll deal their rage around, and scorn to yield,
‘To twice ten thousand men, the bloody field;
‘Whereas thy men, undisciplin'd and raw,
‘Too likely may, when firmly stood, withdraw,
‘And turn the back, and some be overthrown,
‘Which when it shall among the rest be known,
‘Will raise a rumour throughout all thy host,
‘That Absalom the field hath wholly lost;
‘And where that rumour takes, it will prevail
‘To make the courage of the stoutest fail;
‘So shalt thou lose the day, and either die
‘Upon the spot, be taken, or forc'd to fly.

165

‘Which to prevent, my counsel is, that all
‘The men of Israel, in general,
‘From one end to the other of the land,
‘Be drawn together, like th'unnumber'd sand
‘On the sea-shore, and thou their lord and head,
‘Into the field do them in person lead;
‘So shall we on thy father and his men,
‘Fall like the dew upon the ground, and then,
‘Nor he, nor any that are with him, can
‘Escape our hands, we'll have them to a man.

‘But in some fort should he himself immure,
‘We'll there invest him round, 'till we procure
‘Ropes to the place, and draw it down by force,
‘And sink it in the rapid water-course.’

Thus Hushai, like an orator, did play
Upon his hearers' weakness, and yet they
Did not perceive it, nor his purpose see;
But prince and people did as one agree
That Hushai's counsel did by far excel
The counsel given by Ahithophel.
Nor is it strange, for 'twas the Lord that wrought
This change in them, that what before they thought
Was good, they now dislik'd; that he might bring
Justice on Absalom their self-made king.

But when Ahithophel, who ne'er could brook
Competitor, nor on a rival look,
But rack'd with envy, to behold that they
Not only were resolv'd to disobey

166

His counsel, which he as direction gave,
And did expect applause and thanks to have,
But Hushai's counsel did to his prefer;
Not able, an affront so high to bear,
Saddling his ass, away he straight did trot,
And in good time, to his own city got;
Where, having wisely settled his affairs,
He to the halter's help, with speed repairs,
Which having firmly fasten'd to a rafter,
He stretch'd his neck t'avoid affronts hereafter.
There let him hang, while we look back, and heed
How Hushai's better counsel did succeed.

When Hushai had done speaking, ere he knew
How it would be accepted, he withdrew,
And to the priests, Zadock, Abiathar,
Related what had past, and what a jar
Had been in counsels, 'twixt Ahithophel
And him; and, what each had advis'd did tell;
But not yet knowing which would follow'd be,
He wish'd them to inform the king, that he
Might not that night lodge in the plain, but speed
Him o'er the river, that he might be freed
From death and danger, which he might sustain,
If he should stay 'till morning in the plain.

The priests' two sons without the city stay'd,
For to be seen within, they were afraid,
To them their fathers, by a certain maid,
The message they should carry, straight convey'd,

167

Which when they had receiv'd, away they hy'd,
But by a youth unhappily were spy'd,
And thereupon pursu'd; but by the way
They in a well conceal'd, securely lay,
A matron o'er its cover having spread
Ground corn, as if to dry, for making bread;
And when the coast was clear, they posted on,
And told the message which they came upon.

David, thus warn'd arose, and in the night
Pass'd over Jordan. By the morning light,
He and the people with him all were gone,
Nor of his army miss'd they any one.

2 Sam. xii. 11.

CHAP. VII.

TO Mahanaim now king David goes,
His friends to meet with, and to miss his foes;
This was the place, where Jacob long before,
God's angels meeting, did his help implore,
And gave it then this name; by which is shown
Two hosts. God's hosts of angels, and his own.

Here David friendship found, and was supply'd
With needful things, while he did here abide,
Which was not long. Absalom, now an host
Had rais'd, of which he thought he well might boast;

168

Over his army he Amasa made
His general; with banners then display'd,
He over Jordan pass'd, a rebel right,
Against his father and his king to fight.

When David knew that his son Absalom
With a great host was over Jordan come
To give him battle, he his men drew forth,
Who, though not many, were all men of worth,
And though his army was but small, he chose
It into three battalions to dispose;
The first of these he unto Joab gave;
Abishai, Joab's brother, was to have
The second; noble Ittai led the third,
Second to none for use of spear and sword;
The king himself intended too to go
At head of them as gen'ralissimo;
But that, the people by no means would yield,
That he himself should hazard in the field;
They represented that the enemy
Would not regard, if half of them should die,
So much as if they him could take or slay,
Therefore they begg'd he from the field would stay,
And, if occasion should require, would send
Them succours; he was forc'd to condescend.

But when they march'd away, he, standing by,
Shew'd a paternal passion in his eye;
His bowels roll'd towards his graceless son,
And, as presaging that the field was won,

169

Thus to the sev'ral generals he spake,
‘Deal gently with the young man for my sake.’

The field now taken, and the battle join'd,
The victory to David's side inclin'd;
But not without a cruel slaughter made
Of them that were by Absalom betray'd
Into this treason; twenty thousand fell
On his side; for, although he did excel
In numbers, yet, they fighting in a wood,
His numbers could not do him half the good
As in an open champaign plain they might,
Where they could every man have come to fight:
Hopeless, at length, the routed rebels flee,
And David's men pursue them eagerly.

The rebel Absalom now forc'd to run
Where'er his fell pursuers he might shun,
Confus'd with rage and horror, guilt and fear,
And pushing on the trackless wood to clear,
Amongst the boughs of a thick spreading oak,
His head was caught, and fix'd as in a yoke;
His mule went on, and left him hanging there,
'Twixt earth and heaven, in the open air;
Nor could he free himself, his bushy hair,
His ornament before, was now his snare.
Him hanging thus, a certain soldier saw,
And passing by him with respectful awe,
Hasted to Joab, and to him thus spoke;
‘I observ'd Abs'lom hanging in an oak.’

170

‘And didst thou!’ Joab said; ‘Why didst not smite
‘Him to the ground, and kill him there out-right?
‘Hadst thou done so, I would have kindly dealt
‘By thee, and given thee a soldier's belt,
‘Besides ten shekels.’ ‘O!’ cry'd out the man,
‘Though I a thousand shekels might have wan,
‘I wou'd not do't; for I did plainly hear
‘Our lord the king, whom we ought all to fear,
‘A strict charge give, that none should dare to touch
‘His son, so as to hurt him. And 'tis much
‘But thou thyself, if I this thing had done,
‘Would'st have, amongst the rest, against me run.’

Jo'b hastily reply'd, and struck him mute;
No time had he to trifle in dispute;
Three darts he snatch'd, and eagerly he sprung
To where the prince now agonizing hung;
Against him he directed ev'ry dart,
And pierc'd him thrice, yet living, thro' the heart;
Then caus'd his armour-bearers, ten young men,
Out-right to kill him, which they did; and when
He saw him dead, he a retreat did sound,
That no more Hebrew blood might stain the ground.

Thus fell th'usurper Absalom; thus fell,
He who against his father durst rebel;
Thus fell a prince, in body and in mind,
So well accomplish'd, that he seem'd design'd
For government, would he the time have stay'd,
And not his royal father's throne invade.

171

But, blind ambition, kindling hot desire
In him, had set his boiling blood on fire;
He thought his father drew too long his breath;
Nothing would serve him but the crown or death.
The crown he miss'd; a cruel death he found;
Stab'd, hack'd, and hew'd, with many a ghastly wound.

His mangled body to a filthy pit,
Near to the place he fell in, they commit;
And, without ceremony, load his bones
With an huge heap of undistinguish'd stones,
Which must have serv'd him for a monument,
Had not he, in his life-time, with intent
To keep his name up, having then no son,
Set up a pillar with his name thereon;
Which unto after-ages did remain,
And bore his name long after he was slain.

The field then won, and the unhappy head,
Of this unnat'ral insurrection dead,
Their care was next what cautious terms to use,
In sending to the king th'unwelcome news.

Some strife arose who should the tidings bear,
And divers for the office forward were;
Young Ahimaaz, good old Zadock's son,
Of Joab begg'd that he therewith might run;
But Joab doubting that it would not be
Acceptable, unwilling was that he,

172

Whom he well lov'd, should go; and rather chose
One less respected than his friend t'expose.
For though the victory was cause of joy,
The death of Absalom would that destroy;
He therefore bid black Cushi go and tell
The king the matter, just as it befell.
He ran; but Ahimaaz not content,
Unless he too on the same errand went,
Did press so hard for leave to run, that he
Got leave, but by mere importunity;
Then setting forth, and running by the plain,
He so much ground did of the blackmore gain,
That he got first to court, and that did tell,
Which needs must please, for he said, ‘All is well.’

But when the king, whose heart was set upon
The welfare of his disobedient son,
Ask'd, ‘Is the young man safe?’ poor Ahimaaz,
Not knowing what to say, did on him gaze;
Loth to confess what he could not deny,
Nor yet well knowing how to put it by;
Of that, which with the king was the main chance,
He, too well knowing, pleaded ignorance.

Then standing by, as bid; in Cushi ran,
And to relate his message thus began:—

‘Tidings, my lord the king, for thee this day
‘The Lord avenged hath, so that all they
‘That rose against thee now are overcome.’
‘But,’ cry'd the king, ‘How is't with Absalom?

173

‘Say, is the young man safe?’ Cushi replies,
‘So may it be with all thine enemies,
‘As 'tis with him.’—This David understood,
And from his eyes straight gushed forth a flood
Of melting tears. Paternal pity wrought,
And overwhelmed each prudential thought.
Up stairs he went, and as he went he cry'd,
‘O my son Absalom! would I had dy'd
‘For thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!’
And thus he cry'd, and still he kept alone;
His face he cover'd, and let loose the rein
To boundless grief, of noble acts the bane;
This turn'd the triumph, proper for the day,
To mourning; the brave soldiers slunk away
As men asham'd; they who the field had won,
Stole in, as if they from the field had run.

CHAP. VIII.

THIS was to Joab told, who weighing well
How this behaviour might the courage quell
Of all the army, or raise discontent,
Which might be doubly dang'rous in th'event;
For soldiers, if themselves they slighted find,
Will shift their sides as nimbly as the wind;
He, that he might his duty not forsake,
Went to the king, and, soldier-like, thus spake:

174

‘Thy faithful servants, who have risk'd their lives,
‘Thee to preserve, thy children, and thy wives,
‘Thou shamed hast, by shewing thou extends,
‘More love to enemies than to thy friends;
‘Thy carriage this day shews thou dost not heed
‘Or prince, or servant; for in very deed,
‘If Absalom had liv'd, it's plainly seen,
‘And we all dy'd, thou had'st well pleased been.
‘Wherefore arise, go forth, and kindly speak
‘Unto thy servants, else away they'll break
‘Before the morning; for I boldly dare
‘Unto thee, by the God of Israel swear,
‘That if thou come not in the people's sight,
‘There will not tarry one with thee this night;
‘And that will be worse to thee, I avow,
‘Than all the evil thou hast felt 'till now.’

By this bold speech, perhaps more necessary
Than either decent, or discreet and wary,
Joab so rouz'd the king, that off he threw
His wailing fit; and being a prince that knew,
To his condition how to suit his hand,
And to oblige, as well as to command,
He hasten'd down unto the city gate,
And there, as heretofore, in publick sate;
Which known, the people who before had fled,
Each to his tent, as if they had no head,
Now flock unto him, and with deaf'ning sound
Of joyful acclamations him surround.

175

And now a gallant emulation rose
Amongst the tribes, each to be foremost chose,
In shewing their affection to the king,
And striving him in triumph home to bring.
This first among those men of Isr'el fell,
'Tis thought, whom Absalom had made rebel,
Who that they might wipe off the guilt and stain
Of that foul crime, and credit so regain,
Spurr'd one another on, and seem'd to vie
Which should most signalize his loyalty
In bringing back the king, whom now they praise,
Recount his merits, and admire his ways.

But Judah, his own tribe, too backward were,
And too regardless of the common care;
This drowsy negligence did grieve the king;
That therefore them, he to a sense might bring
Of what became them, he a message sends
To Zadock and Abiathar his friends,
Commanding they should to the elders speak
From him, and thus the matter to them break:

‘Why are ye to bring back the king the last?
‘Why ye so slow, when others run so fast?
‘Have ye forgot that ye my brethren are,
‘My bones and flesh, so have a greater share
‘In me than others? Why do ye let slip
‘The season, and let others you out-strip
‘In love and loyalty? This caution take,
‘And to yourselves advantage of it make.’

176

He bid them also-to Amasa say,
(Amasa, gen'ral but the other day
Of all the rebels) ‘Art not thou to me
‘A kinsman near by consanguinity?
‘Return to thy allegiance without dread,
‘And be my general in Joab's stead.’

By these and other such engaging arts,
He wrought so strongly on the people's hearts,
That Judah, sensible they had been slack,
Now hasten'd to him, to conduct him back.

Got over Jordan, Shimei was the first,
(Shimei, by whom he was so lately curs'd,
And rudely treated) who, the tide thus turn'd
Contrary to his expectation, mourn'd,
Or seem'd to mourn; perhaps the crafty knave
Might sorrow feign, his guilty head to save;
His guilt and danger now impell'd him in,
To beg king David's pardon for his sin.

He, therefore, pushing in with Judah, led
A thousand Benjamites, himself the head,
To shew, perhaps, what interest he had,
(Which was the worse in one that was so bad)
Or if occasion were, his cause to plead,
And for him with the king to intercede;
This traitor was the first who met the king,
And on his knees Peccavi thus did sing:

177

‘Let not my gracious lord, the king,’ said he,
‘Impute this day iniquity to me,
‘Nor bear in mind what I perversly said,
‘And did against him, when he was betray'd,
‘For I thy servant know, that I therein
‘Am guilty of an execrable sin,
‘Therefore I, with the first, am hither come
‘To wait upon my lord, and bring him home;
‘Pardon, my lord, O king, my fault, I pray,
‘Let me find mercy at thine hand this day,’

Before the king could any answer make,
Abishai, Zerviah's forward son thus spake:
‘What, shall not Shimei be put to death!
‘That rebel Shimei! who with pois'nous breath,
‘Did rail upon and curse the Lord's anointed;
‘What less than death can be to him appointed!

This sounded harshly in good David's ear,
And that to him he quickly made appear;
‘For what,’ said he, ‘have I with you to do,
‘Ye busy sons of Zerviah, that you,
‘On all occasions, still contrive to be,
‘As much as in you lies, averse from me?
‘Shall any man be put to death this day
‘In Israel? The Lord, and I, say nay;
‘For have not I, think ye, good cause to know,
‘That I so lately near an overthrow,
‘Still king of Israel am, by Heaven's grace;
‘Which should with you, as well as me, have place;

178

‘For since the Lord this day doth me restore
‘Unto the throne on which I sat before,
‘It ought to be a day of thankful joy,
‘Which no sad execution should annoy.’
Then turning unto Shimei, ‘Thou,’ said he,
‘Shalt not be put to death for this by me.’

End of the Fourth Book.

179

BOOK V.

CHAPTER I.

Among the rest, whom love or int'rest drew,
To meet the king, false Ziba came, who knew,
When once his master came in David's sight,
His base deceit would then be brought to light;
That therefore he might still retain the place
He had by falsehood gain'd in David's grace,
He with his fifteen sons, and twenty men,
Came with pretence to bring him home again.

But now Mephibosheth, (who being lame,
Was not so nimble) in due season came,
To clear himself from Ziba's false report,
And on the wretch his treachery retort.

When David ask'd, ‘Why went thou not with me,
‘Mephibosheth?’ ‘My lord, O king,’ said he,

180

‘My faulty servant, Ziba, me deceiv'd,
‘And helpless me, he of his help bereav'd;
‘I order'd him to saddle me an ass,
‘That I thereon unto the king might pass,
‘Not able else to go; away he slipt,
‘And me of means to follow wholly stript.
‘Nor is that all; but he hath slander'd too
‘Thy servant to my lord, with words untrue,
‘But well I know, my lord, the king, is wise,
‘Do therefore what shall seem good in thine eyes;
‘I plead no merit, all I have I place
‘To the account of thine abundant grace.’

‘Enough,’ reply'd the king, ‘my word shall stand,
‘Thou and thy servant shall divide the land.’

Thus having wrong'd Mephibosheth before,
In stripping him, unheard, of all his store,
That wrong he by a somewhat less wrong salves,
And doth the wrong'd man justice but by halves.

Mephibosheth not only was most clear
From Ziba's charge, as plainly did appear,
But also had so true a mourner been
For David's trouble, that he ne'er was seen
To dress his feet, tho' lame, nor trim his beard,
Nor in clean linen ever had appear'd
To cheer his body, from the very day
In which the king distressed went away,

181

Until the day he came again; which made
His case the harder, being duly weigh'd;
Yet he, good man, for joy the king was come
In peace and safety to his royal home,
Regardless what might to himself befall,
Cry'd, ‘Ay, let Ziba, if he will, take all.’

We heard before of certain men that came
To bring the king supplies at Mahanaim,
Of these Barzillai was, the Gileadite,
Who did the king support with great delight;
The sense whereof did so affect the king,
That to Jerusalem he fain would bring
The good old man, that there he might have shew'd
The highest marks of royal gratitude.

But good Barzillai did to go refuse,
And by his hoary age himself excuse;
‘I am,’ said he, ‘full fourscore years of age,
‘And therefore, with good reason, may presage,
‘My days cannot be many; I am past
‘The pleasures of a court; I cannot taste
‘My food with relish; 'twere an oversight,
‘For me in vocal musick to delight,
‘My ears too heavy to distinguish sounds,
‘And me the harbinger of death surrounds;
‘Why then should I a further burthen be
‘Unto my lord the king? O no! let me
‘Wait on thee over Jordan, and return
‘Unto my city, and my parent's urn,

182

‘That there, amongst my people, I may die,
‘And in my parents' sepulchre may lie;
‘But, lo, my son, thy servant Chimham, he
‘Shall wait upon my lord, and always be
‘At thy command; him to thee I commit,
‘And thou may'st do to him what thou thinks fit.’

‘That I'll perform,’ said David, ‘and to thee
‘Will give besides what thou shalt ask of me.’
This said, the good old man he kindly kist,
And, with his royal blessing, him dismist.

Then march'd he on, attended very well
By Judah, and one half of Israel,
That half or part, be it supposed to be,
Which was not from the late rebellion free,
And therefore now would more officious seem
That they their shaken credit might redeem.

But now again a fresh contention rose
Between them, which of friends soon made them foes.

These men of Israel could not now contain
Their anger, but did to the king complain
Of Judah, that they stole from them the king,
That they alone might him o'er Jordan bring;
The ground of which they did not understand,
And therefore did their reasons now demand.

183

The men of Judah briskly answer'd thus:
‘Because the king is near a-kin to us.’—
More brisk than true.—‘David indeed was so,
‘But not as king; kings are a-kin, we know,
‘To all their subjects, and alike to all
‘That faithful are to them, both great and small.’
‘Why,’ added Judah, ‘do ye then contend?
‘We did our duty without selfish end,
‘We neither eat at the king's charge, nor yet
‘Receiv'd from him a gift or benefit.’

‘But we,’ the men of Israel reply'd,
‘Have that to say which will the cause decide,
‘For we have ten parts in the king, while you
‘Cannot pretend, at most, to more than two;
‘Why then, since we the greater number are,
‘Did ye despise us, and proceed so far
‘As to bring back our sov'reign lord the king
‘Without consulting us, and thereby bring
‘Contempt upon us?’ Thus they brawl and chide,
And toss the fiery ball from side to side;
But Judah's words, in this contention, fell
More hot and fierce than those of Israel.

184

CHAP. II.

HOW needful 'tis hot anger to suppress,
Wrath to repel, for wrath is all excess!
Not to give way to passion; nor too high
Resent an apprehended injury;
Much less to let the tongue, upon debate,
Break loose in words which may exasperate;
For often words, like flint and steel, strike fire,
And thereby the contention raise the higher:
So have I seen, what from a sparkle came,
Blown by hot breath into a furious flame.

Thus, in the present contest, it befell
The men of Judah, and of Israel;
The men of Israel did resent too high
A slight offence; Judah at them let fly
A thund'ring volley, in such cutting words,
As wounded deeper than the sharpest swords,
And made the Israelites almost repent
That e'er to wait upon the king they went.

This being observ'd by Sheba, Bichri's son,
A Benjamite, who thither that day run
Among the rest, not willing to let go
So fit a time his factious mind to show;

185

He blew a trumpet, and each Israelite
To fresh rebellion did thus invite:

‘No part have we in David, nor possess
‘We any share now in the son of Jess’;
‘Wherefore, O Israel, to your tents betake
‘Yourselves forthwith, and Jesse's son forsake.’

So spake this man of Belial, and so did
The men of Israel, straight away they slid
From David, and with nimble paces run
After rebellious Sheba, Bichri's son;
But Judah clave entirely to their king,
And him in honour safely home did bring.

When thus return'd, the first thing by him done
Was to shut up those concubines his son
Defiled had; to whom he did allot
Fit maintenance, but thenceforth us'd them not.

That done, he did Amasa to him call,
Whom he design'd to make his general,
And bid him all the men of Judah raise,
And draw them up before him in three days,
Away Amasa went, but longer staid,
Although what haste he could, he doubtless made;
The king, uneasy at Amasa's stay,
As knowing danger rises from delay,
Abishai to him call'd, and bid him take
The forces ready; after Sheba make

186

With all the speed he could, lest he should get
The fenced towns his treason to abet.

Out march'd Abishai, leading Joab's men,
The Cherethites and Pelethites; but when,
Upon the way Amasa in did fall,
He took the chief command as general.

Joab, not by the king expressly sent,
Yet loving action, with his soldiers went,
And envying Amasa, as indeed
He envy'd all who might himself succeed,
He manag'd so, that from its sheath, his sword
Dropp'd unawares, as of its own accord,
And quick as tho' he would not seem to stand,
He snatch'd it up, and bore it in his hand.

Amasa saw it, but suspected not
That Jo'b therein against him had a plot;
For taking it to be an accident,
He was, for his own safety, less intent.
Joab advanc'd, and, under feigned show
Of kindness, ask'd him, ‘Brother, how dost do?’
And kissing him, most treach'rously the while,
A deadly wound he gave him with a smile;
Out dropp'd his bowels, there Amasa lay,
Welt'ring in gore amidst the publick way.
So dy'd a great and valiant man; so fell,
By treachery, a prince in Israel.

187

On Joab with Abishai went in quest
Of Sheba, leaving one to tell the rest,
That he who favour'd Joab, and who was
For David, after Joab on should pass;
Which, notwithstanding, as the men drew nigh
The place where murder'd Amasa did lie,
They made an halt, nor would a step advance,
But gazing stood, like people in a trance;
Which one observing, quickly, as behov'd,
Amasa's corps out of the way remov'd,
Into a field, and cover'd it; which done,
The warlike people after Joab run.

Sheba, meanwhile, thro' all the tribes had past,
And to the city Abel came at last,
His kindred Beerites join'd him on the way,
To share with him the fortune of the day.

Here Sheba fix'd, the place was fortify'd;
Here Jo'b besieg'd him, and his force apply'd.
Sheba within resolves, but all in vain,
The town against th'assailants to maintain;
The siege grows hot, the engines shake the wall,
The next assault is like to make it fall;
Which done, the fur'ous soldiers straight rush in
With sword in hand, and so the city win;
Unthinking, in their heat the people slay,
And, afterwards, they seize upon the prey.

188

Foreseeing this, a prudent city-dame,
Straight to prevent it, on the bulwark came,
And cry'd to the besiegers, ‘Hear, O hear,
‘And speak, I pray, to Joab, to come near,
‘That we may treat a little.’—Straight he came,
Not thinking much to parley with a dame;
Rough, tho' he was, she his attention won,
An ancient custom urging, thus begun:—

‘In old time they,’ said she, ‘were wont to say,
‘At Abel surely, they will counsel pray;’
And so the matter ended.—Thus she tripp'd
This bold commander, who, thro' haste, had slipp'd
The law of heraldry , which did provide
That peace should first be offer'd, fair means try'd,
Before a siege was laid; which had he done,
He needed not this hostile course have run.

Thus having gently pinched him, because
He had not well observ'd the fecial laws,
She told him, though her citizens and she,
Both faithful were and peaceable, yet he
Sought to destroy a city, known full well
To be a mother too in Israel.
Then ask'd him, how he could the siege advance
To swallow up the Lord's inheritance.

This startled Joab. ‘Far be it from me,
‘That I unjustly should destroy!’ said he,

189

‘The matter is not so; but ye protect
‘A rebel who king David doth reject,
‘The son of Bichri, Sheba is his name,
‘To you, and all true Israelites a shame;
‘Deliver him alone, and I in pity
‘To you will raise my siege, and free your city.’

‘Nay,’ said the woman, ‘sure if that be all,
‘His guilty head we'll throw thee o'er the wall.’
Then to her citizens the woman went,
And did to them so wisely represent
The case, their danger; which so close she put,
That from his shoulders Sheba's head they cut,
And it immediately to Joab threw;
Who seeing that, a peaceful trumpet blew;
They rais'd the siege, and to their tents retir'd,
And much the matron's wisdom all admir'd.

Deut. xx. 10.

CHAP. III.

THESE two rebellions quell'd, which of late
Gave such disturbance to the civil state,
The court new-modell'd was, removes were made
Of ministers, some old aside were laid,
Only fierce Joab, who was now more bold,
Than welcome to the king, his place will hold.

190

A standing army David muster'd then,
Consisting of three hundred thousand men,
Which into twelve brigades divided were,
Answering to the twelve months of the year;
In each brigade were twice twelve thousand, and
A thousand officers did them command;
These took their turns, in times of peace, to be
A month on duty, and eleven free;
And as their month return'd, in ev'ry year,
Did each brigade at court, in arms, appear;
But all, in time of war, did ready stand,
On sound of trumpet, to obey command;
These to the field king David often drew,
His enemies, on all sides, to subdue.

Four fields he with the Philistines did fight,
To each of which they brought a man of might,
An Anakim, one of Goliath's race,
Whom David's warriors did not only chase,
But single-handed did them singly slay,
And, each time bore the victory away.

We read of British Arthur, and his table
Of warlike knights (which some account a fable)
But grant it true: they never might compare
With David's worthies, as their deeds declare;
Which whoso lists, may, if he please to look,
Read at his leisure in the sacred book.

191

Not less concern'd was this pious king
God's honour to promote, his praise to sing,
Advance his worship, celebrate his name,
And others, with like godly zeal inflame.

The ark of God, which long before had been
The scorn and scourge of the proud Philistine,
And with Abinadab had since remain'd,
Who, for his entertaining it, had gain'd
Great blessings from the Lord; the zealous king,
With Israel and Judah, went to bring
Unto Jerusalem, but, through mistake,
Erring, the sacred law they plainly brake.

The Levites, sons of Kohath, ought to bear
The ark upon their shoulders; they to spare
Their shoulders, learning the Philistian art,
Stick not to clap the ark into a cart;
God's ark they trust to stumbling oxen, which
Might have the ark o'erthrown into a ditch;
The oxen stumbling, caus'd the ark to shake,
Well-meaning Uzzah care thereof doth take,
Puts forth his hand, and holds it lest it fall,
And instant dies, which terrifies them all.

The Lord's a sovereign prince, and won't permit
That man shall vary from his law a whit;
The law was plain and easy, all must say,
The fault upon the Levites only lay.

192

Displeas'd was David, that through their defau't,
This sudden death was on poor Uzzah brought;
And since the stroke by God himself was giv'n,
Much David fear'd the Majesty of heav'n,
Lest of the matter he should disapprove,
As well as manner, e'en the ark's remove;
Not daring therefore at that time to bring
The ark unto Jerusalem, the king
Left it at Obed-Edom's, who was blest,
During the time the ark with him did rest.

But three months after, on maturer thought,
The ark into Jerusalem was brought,
In its due order, and was placed there,
In a fair tent which David did prepare;
For he, before he would attempt again,
What he before had enterpriz'd in vain,
Convening priests and Levites, did declare,
‘None but the Levites ought the ark to bear;
B'ing therefore charg'd themselves to sanctify,
That to the ark they safely might draw nigh,
And take it up; which had they done before,
They had not suffer'd what they now deplore;
Then on they go, and as they go, rejoice,
Accomp'nying instruments with sound of voice.

But none, of all the company more glad,
Appear'd to be than David, who was clad
In linen-ephod, and did leap and dance
Before the ark with joyful countenance.

193

Queen Michal, in his dancing, David 'spies,
And, looking on him with disdainful eyes,
Brake forth in taunting terms; for which she was
Condemn'd her life in barrenness to pass:
Sore punishment indeed! which her did bind
From bearing him who was to save mankind.
The ark thus brought, and, with triumphant grace
And due devotion, settled in its place,
The pious king, who did before it dance,
Now studied how God's honour to advance.

The priests and Levites he dispos'd in courses,
As he before had done his martial forces,
To each his proper service he assign'd,
Which they should execute with willing mind;
Some to burnt-offerings and sacrifices,
With rites belonging to those exercises;
On instruments of musick some to play,
And praise the Lord upon each solemn day;
To prayer some; some to give thanks, some bless
The Lord, and seek his wonders to express.

Nor staid he here; his right religious mind,
To build an house for Israel's God inclin'd;
A sacred temple he design'd to build,
Which with majestick glory should be fill'd.

This godly purpose of his royal heart,
The pious king to Nathan did impart;

194

The godly prophet, of the motion glad,
That he might strength to his intentions add,
Too hastily, without command, said, ‘Go,
‘And what is in thine heart to do, that do,
‘For God is with thee.’ The good man in this,
Through strong desire to have it done, did miss.

For that same night the Lord his prophet bid
Go tell his servant David (which he did)
‘That in thine heart it was, an house to raise
‘To me, wherein to celebrate my praise,
‘I take it well; but therefrom thou art freed,
‘Thy will, by me, is taken for the deed;
‘Thou shalt not build the house, for thou hast led
‘Great armies to the field, much blood hast shed;
‘But when thy head is laid, a peaceful king,
‘Who of thy seed, and from thy loins shall spring,
‘Shall build my house, which must be built in peace:
‘Who builds for God, from war and blood must cease.’

Submissive David, with an humble mind,
Intirely to the will of God resign'd,
In solemn manner did to God express
His hearty thanks, and his great Name did bless;
And still, with diligence himself apply'd,
Materials for the building to provide;
Gold, silver, precious stones, brass, iron, wood
Of divers sorts; whatever seemed good
For choicest use, he in abundance stor'd;
Won from his enemies by dint of sword;

195

To which he added so much of his own,
As drew his princes, when it once was known,
Chief fathers, captains, rulers, to express,
By their free offerings, their thankfulness:
All which the king to Solomon demis'd,
With such instruction as the Lord advis'd,
Assigning to each part its proper use,
To build and ornament the sacred house.

CHAP. IV.

DURING the reign of David, there had been,
Three years successively, no ease between,
A raging famine, which did sore oppress
The Israelites, and brought them to distress.

The long duration of this pinching dearth,
Which pin'd the people, and defac'd the earth,
Made David of the Lord the cause inquire,
Which against Israel had provok'd his ire.
The answer was, ‘It was for faithless Saul,
‘And for his bloody house, this plague did fall
‘Upon the people;’ which perhaps was due,
Since by their help, the Gibeonites he slew.

How, when, or why, he did this fact commit,
Is not deliver'd in the sacred writ;

196

We only read, he did it in his zeal
For Israel's and Judah's common-weal.

Some think it was when he the witches slew,
And sought t'exterminate th'infernal crew;
Though when e'en that was done, is not so clear
From holy writ, to be ascertain'd here.

The Gibeonites were not of Israel,
Altho' they with the Israelites did dwell;
They of the Amorite, a remnant were,
A people Israel's sword was not to spare;
Which they fore-knowing, by a crafty wile,
Good Joshua and the princes did beguile.

These, feigning that ambassadors they came
From a far country, did a story frame,
That they so long had on their journey been,
That their provisions, which was plainly seen,
Were grown corrupt; their bread which hot from home
They said they brought, was mouldy now become;
Old leathern bottles rent and bound they shew,
Which they affirm'd, when they set out, were new;
Their tatter'd clothes, and clouted shoes, did make
The Israelites give heed to what they spake;
And, being by this stratagem betray'd,
An unadvised league they with them made,

197

To let them live; and all the princes sware.
By Israel's God, whose justice will not spare
The man or people, that in vain shall take
His sacred name, but them examples make.

Well near four hundred years this league was kept
Inviolate, till all the judges slept,
And the good prophet Samuel was gone
To rest, and wicked Saul yet fill'd the throne;
And probably it was not very long
Before his end he did this cursed wrong,
For had it early been, it may be thought,
The punishment had in his time been brought.

When now king David, on inquiry, knew
What 'twas that on the land this judgment drew,
He call'd the Gibeonites, and bid them say
What they would have him do to take away
The guilt of blood; and how he might atone
For the injustice Saul to them had done;
That satisfaction given, they might bless
The Lord's inheritance with such success,
That he appeased, might his heavy hand
Remove, and smile again upon the land;
For justice God regards; and therefore he,
How low so'er the wronged party be,
Will righted have, before he will remove
The rod wherewith he doth chastise in love.
The Gibeonites reply'd, ‘Its not our will,
‘That for our sakes, thon any man should kill

198

‘In Israel; nor Saul's possessions crave;
‘The only thing which we desire to have,
‘The man who us so cruelly annoy'd,
‘And who would us entirely have destroy'd;
‘Let seven of his sons, without delay
‘Deliver'd be to us, that them we may
‘Hang up in Gibeah, unto the Lord.’
To their demand king David did accord.

Small choice he had, out of Saul's house to take
Sev'n men, atonement for Saul's sin to make;
Mephibosheth, he had a special care,
For Jonathan his father's sake, to spare;
Having regard to friendship, and the oath,
Which long before had pass'd between them both.

Of all Saul's son, but two were now alive;
Unhappy they, that they did him survive,
To undergo an ignominious death
For his offence; of these Mephibosheth
The younger was; Armoni was the other,
Both sons of Rizpah, their afflicted mother;
Five sons of Merab, to make up the tale,
He pitch'd upon. Merab might well bewail
Her double loss; of David first, and then
Of her five sons, a set of proper men;
For had she married David, which of right
She should have done, she, without question, might

199

Have still enjoy'd her sons, herself have been
A joyful mother and an happy queen.
The number thus complete, the king commands
They should be given up into the hands
Of the wrong'd Gibeonites; they, in a word,
Hang'd them up man by man, before the Lord.

This needful execution being done,
When barley-harvest was but new begun,
And the dead bodies being to remain
Unburied, 'till the Lord, by sending rain,
(The want of which was the next cause of dearth)
Should his acceptance shew, and bless the earth:
Religious Rizpah, that she might defend
These uninterred bodies, did attend
During the time, as well by night as day,
That neither bird nor beast might on them prey;
For which end, on the rock where they lay dead,
She a pavilion did of sackcloth spread.

Which pious act of hers, when David heard,
After the Lord propitious had appear'd,
He took the bones of Saul, which did remain
At Jabesh. Gilead, where they long had lain,
Together with the bones of Jonathan,
His noble friend, a brave and worthy man,
And gathering up the bones of these, who now
Had hanged been, he on them did bestow
A funeral, and did them all inter
In Kish, their father's proper sepulchre.

200

Which done, according to the king's command,
The Lord was pleas'd again to bless the land.

1 Sam. xxviii.

1 Sam. xx. 42.

CHAP. V.

WHEN now the Lord had his anointed blest,
As well with inward peace as outward rest,
Having subdu'd his enemies, and made
His neighbours round about him all afraid
Him to offend, so that he now could say
Unto his friends, ‘This is the happy day
‘The Lord hath made; let us with tuneful voice,
‘And thankful heart, in this his day rejoice.’

When to this peaceful state the happy king
Had thus attain'd, that he could sweetly sing
Psalms of thanksgiving, while his fingers play'd,
And on his harp melodious musick made;
The restless adversary of mankind,
Who mischief always had to man design'd,
Envying th'happiness which now befel,
Under so good a king, poor Israel,
Did with a thought his royal breast inspire,
Which quickly set both heart and head on fire;

201

It kindled in him an ambitious mind
To know his strength, and strongly him inclin'd,
Unmindful of the Almighty's will, to dare,
To number all the people fit for war.

To Joab, therefore, as his general,
He gave command to go and number all
The people fit for war, in every tribe,
And in a muster-roll their names describe,
That he might thereby know (vain mind, alas!)
How strong in military force he was.

The snare which David saw not, Joab saw,
And labour'd David from it to withdraw,
But all in vain; the king was fully bent
To have his will; Joab about it went
Unwillingly; and, in some ten months' time,
Returning, shew'd the king his strength and crime.

For he no sooner the account gave in,
But David, smitten in himself, his sin
Confessing, said, ‘I sinned greatly have
‘In that which I have done; and now I crave
‘Thy pardon, Lord; and do most humbly pray,
‘That thou'lt be pleas'd to take my sin away;
‘Ah! sensible I am, that herein I
‘Have err'd, and done exceeding foolishly.’

Next morning God, in high displeasure, sent
His prophet to denounce a punishment

202

To David for his sin. The prophet goes,
And thus his message doth to him disclose:

‘Thus saith the Lord, three sorts of punishment
‘I set before thee, and am fully bent
‘One of them to inflict; but leave to thee
‘The choice, which of them shall inflicted be;
‘Choose therefore one, which I to thee may do,
‘For thy offence shall not unpunish'd go.
‘Shall three years more of famine in thy land,
‘Which three years hath already suffer'd, stand?
‘Or wilt thou, for three months together, flee
‘Before thine enemies, and chased be?
‘Or shall, throughout thy land, the pestilence
‘For three days rage, to punish thine offence?’
‘Be now advis'd,’ said Gad, ‘think well what word,
‘I shall from thee return unto the Lord.’

Here the gradations sink, as it appears,
From months to days, and unto months from years;
Three months of bloody war, 'tis likely may
As many as three years of famine slay;
And three days pestilence, accounted are
To equal three months of devouring war.

Great was the strait poor David now was in;
Ah! what but straits attend presumptuous sins?
Which of the three to choose he's unprepar'd:
To choose was favour; but the choice was hard.

203

Famine the land had felt too late before;
That too would first and most affect the poor,
Himself it would not reach; to whom he knew
The rod was chiefly, tho' not only, due.

Like reason was of war. In person he
Might be for three months time from danger free;
Besides, if Israel should be beat, and fly
So long and oft, it might the enemy
Embolden of their strength, or cause to boast,
And to blaspheme the Lord, the God of Hosts.

These therefore wav'd, the king resolv'd at last,
Himself into the hand of God to cast.
‘Into the hand of God,’ said he, ‘let's fall,
‘And humbly unto him for mercy call;
‘His mercy's great, I by experience know,
‘He will, upon repentance, mercy show:
‘In him I trust, to him, distress'd, I fly,
‘And on his tender mercies I rely;
‘But let me not into the hands of man
‘Be cast, for he will do the worst he can.’

The choice thus made, the pestilence is sent
Throughout the land, the angel swiftly went,
Waving his flaming sword, whereby there fell
Seventy thousand men in Israel,
In three days time; but when the angel came
To shake his blade against Jerusalem,

204

The royal city, the imperial seat,
The cabinet of what was choice and great,
The mournful king, with Israel's elders, clad
In sackcloth, with their countenances sad,
Fell on their faces at the dreadful sight
Of that devouring blade, stretch'd out to smite
The people; and the trembling king thus pour'd,
His supplication forth before the Lord:

‘Ah! am not I the man that gave command
‘The people should be number'd thro' the land?
‘'Tis even I, that did this sin commit,
‘O that I only suffer might for it!
‘On me and on my house, O Lord, I pray,
‘Be pleas'd for what remains, thy hand to lay!
‘But not upon the people in this city,
‘Oh! on these harmless sheep, I pray have pity,
‘And let not them be plagu'd for my offence,
‘Accept my pray'r, regard their innocence.’

This earnest supplication heaven pierc'd,
And the remainder of the doom revers'd;
The Lord repenting, to the angel said,
‘It is enough; now let thine hand be staid.’

The angel stood, when this blest word was given,
By Ornan's threshing floor, 'twixt earth and heaven,
And Ornan (or Araunah), when he spy'd
The angel, ran with his four sons to hide.

205

But David, be'ng by Gad instructed, went
To buy the threshing-floor, with full intent
To rear an altar in that very place
Unto the Lord, and there to seek his face.

Araunah looking forth, and see'ng the king
Approaching, on the ground himself did fling,
The cause inquiring, which had brought him there,
Which, in so great a prince, must great appear.

‘My business,’ answer'd David, ‘is to buy
‘Of thee thy threshing-floor, that thereon I
‘May raise an altar to the Lord, and see
‘If by peace-offerings he appeas'd will be;
‘That so, his just displeasure be'ng allay'd,
‘The plague inflicted on us, may be stay'd.’

‘O,’ said Araunah, ‘let my lord the king
‘Accept the ground, thou needest nothing bring;
‘The oxen for burnt-offerings, and the wheat
‘Accept for the meat-off'ring, I entreat.
‘The threshing instruments may serve the turn,
‘Instead of wood, the off'rings to burn;
‘And mayst thou by the Lord accepted be,
‘As sure as these are freely giv'n by me.’

‘Nay, hold,’ said David, ‘do not think that I
‘A begging came; I came indeed to buy,
‘And buy I will, and that too at full price;
‘What's not my own I will not sacrifice,

206

‘Nor will I that, for which I give no costs,
‘Pretend to offer to the Lord of Hosts.’

The price then set, and paid, an altar there
King David to the Lord his God did rear,
And thereon offer'd, to appease the Lord,
Burnt-off'rings, and peace-off'rings, and implor'd
His gracious pardon; and the Lord, who knew
That David's heart was right, his sorrow true,
Vouchsaf'd to answer him by fire, which came
From heav'n upon the altar, in a flame;
By which he shew'd his anger was appeas'd,
And he with David's sacrifice was pleas'd.

Thus ceas'd the plague, with seventy thousand slain,
By which so many fewer did remain
To serve the king; and tho' the Lord thought sit
To spare the man that did the sin commit,
Yet in his kingly state, in part he dy'd,
At least was wounded through his people's side;
For kings and subjects are cor-relatives,
The one must die, unless the other lives.
Herein, however, Divine Providence,
Suited the punishment to the offence;
That since of numbers David fain would boast,
He of his number seventy thousand lost.

Psalm cxviii. 24.

1 Chron. xxi. 12.

207

CHAP. VI.

AGE now, and the expence of blood in war,
To weakness had reduc'd the king so far,
That though against the cold they did him arm
With store of clothes, they scarce could keep him warm;
Wherefore they for a fair young virgin sought,
Whom, having found, unto the king they brought;
Her name Abishag, she a Shunamite,
Who on the king should wait both day and night.
She stood at hand, to serve him all the day,
And when night came, she in his bosom lay;
Whereby her natural heat she did impart
Unto the king, which did refresh his heart.
Thus led she a concubinary life,
Yet did the king not know her as a wife.

His eldest son, then living, was a prince
Of an aspiring mind, who, ever since
The death of Absalom, himself did hold
Heir to the crown, and thereupon grew bold;
His name was Adonijah, which doth sound
A ruling lord, and such he would be found;
A goodly man, for personage, was he,
And from correction had been always free;

208

For the king's lenity to him was such,
He never had displeased him so much,
As but to say unto him,—O my son,
What is the cause thou so or so hast done?

He long had cast his eye upon the throne,
As counting, if not calling, it his own;
And reckon'd he sustain'd no little wrong,
In that his father sat upon't so long;
But now his father's age and feeble state,
Made him resolve he would no longer wait,
But take possession of the royal crown,
Ascend the throne, and thrust his father down.

In order thereunto, he did provide
Chariots and horsemen, for both guard and pride,
And fifty men, who should before him run,
Like as his brother Absalom had done.

Then into the conspiracy he drew
Joab, his father's gen'ral, who he knew,
Among the soldi'ry, great interest had,
And to his cause, could strength and credit add;
Abiathar, the priest, he also got
To join with him, and consecrate his plot.

Both he and Joab had stood right before,
When Absalom rebell'd; and to restore
The king they labour'd hard, unto his crown;
What pity 'twas they now the pail kick'd down,

209

Joab, indeed, some colour might pretend
For his defection; he might apprehend,
Not without reason, since he lost his place,
He stood but loosely in the royal grace.

But for the priest, no cause as yet we see,
Which might, in his excuse, alleged be;
Unless it were, what among such doth run,
An aptness to adore the rising sun;
David declin'd apace, ready to set,
Young Adonijah ready up to get.

The plot now being ripe, the time at hand,
Wherein he meant all Israel to command,
He made a royal feast, fat cattle slew,
Both sheep and oxen, and to it he drew
His brethren, the king's sons, ev'n ev'ry one
Of them, excepting only Solomon;
And with them Joab and Abiathar,
And all the men of Judah, though they were
The king's own servants, and with them too most
Of the brave captains of his father's host,
Who, when the wine their spirits did inflame,
Should Adonijah, for their king, proclaim.

Just in the nick, the prophet Nathan got
The knowledge of this execrable plot,
And wisely weighing how he might prevent
The dire effects thereof, away he went

210

Unto Queen Bathsheba, and her surpriz'd
With the relation of it; then advis'd
Her to the king immediately to go,
And open to the king, the matter so,
That he danger deeply in may take,
And to prevent it, due provision make.
And, added he, whilst thou yet speaking art
Unto the king, I'll come and take thy part.
Then her instructing, how she should begin
The matter, he withdrew, and she went in.

Come to the presence of the king, she bow'd,
After such manner as they then allowed;
And, being by the king ask'd what she would,
She in such terms as these, her business told:
‘Thou once, my lord, unto thine handmaid sware,
‘By the Almighty, who doth witness bear,
‘That after thee, thy servant Solomon
‘Should reign and sit upon his father's throne;
‘Yet now behold, Adonijah doth reign,
‘And he hath oxen, and fat cattle slain
‘In great abundance, and a feast hath made,
‘To which thine other sons are all betray'd,
‘That they may own his title; th'only one
‘Excluded, is thy servant Solomon;
‘But upon thee, my lord, O king, the eyes
‘Of Israel are, that thou, before thou dies,
‘Should'st plainly tell them who, when thou art gone,
‘Shall thee succeed upon thy royal throne;

211

‘Which if to do, my lord the king should fail,
‘And Adonijah's treason should prevail,
‘When thou, my lord, shalt with thy fathers sleep,
‘The thought whereof, occasions me to weep,
‘It then shall come to pass, offenders we,
‘My son and I, shall then reputed be.’

While yet she spake, the prophet Nathan came
Into the anti-chamber; and his name
Sent in, he did for quick admittance sue,
And, being introduc'd, the queen withdrew.

The prophet quickly his obeisance made,
And to the king in haste, abruptly said,
‘Dost thou, my lord, O king, indeed ordain,
‘That Adonijah after thee shall reign?
‘Or hast thou said, When I to rest am gone,
‘I will that he shall sit upon my throne?
‘For he this day hath made a royal feast,
‘And to it hath invited many a guest,
‘All the king's sons, except prince Solomon,
‘Unto his feast, at his request, are gone;
‘And Joab, with the captains of the host,
‘He doth caress, not sparing any cost;
‘Nor is Abiathar the priest the least
‘Among his guests, to bless the trait'rous feast;
‘All whom, that he may richly entertain,
‘Fed cattle in abundance he hath slain,
‘They eat, drink, sing, loud acclamations give,
‘And cry, “Long may king Adonijah live.”

212

‘But me thy servant, and thy brightest son
‘(Best of thy sons) the brave prince Solomon,
‘He hath not called, nor Zadock the good priest,
‘Nor yet Benajah, to his treach'rous feast.
‘Is this thing, by my Lord's appointment done,
‘And to thy servant it thou hast not shown?
‘Or hath aspiring Adonijah chose
‘This time to seize the crown, and thee depose?’

He stopt. But what had been already said,
On David's mind a deep impression made;
He had not yet the sad effects forgot,
Of his son Absalom's disloyal plot,
How hard it with him went, what dangers he
Was in, how he was fain for life to flee;
Which now, so weak he was, he could not do,
But must, whate'er befel him, undergo;
He therefore to this sore resolv'd t'apply
A speedy and effectual remedy.

He therefore said, ‘Call Bathsheba to me:’
She soon appear'd with awful modesty,
And stood before him; Nathan out was gone,
Leaving the king and Bathsheba alone,
To whom the king thus spake, and with an oath,
Did what he said confirm, between them both.

‘As lives the Lord, who hath redeemed me
‘From all distress, I now declare to thee,

213

‘As I engaged solemnly before,
‘When by the God of Israel I swore,
‘Assuring thee, that Solomon thy son,
‘Should me succeed, and sit upon my throne;
‘That will I certainly perform this day;
‘Thine eye shall see it done without delay.’

The queen, most humble rev'rence having made,
Only, ‘Long live my lord king David,’ said.
By which, we may suppose, she wish'd that he
Might still reign on, and be from troubles free.

But he, upon the matter more intent,
For Zadock, Nathan, and Benajah sent,
To whom he gave in charge, that they should straight
Take of his servants, both for strength and state,
Sufficient numbers, and should cause his son
(The Lord's belov'd, Jediah) Solomon,
On the king's mule, in royal pomp to ride,
The priest and prophet walking by his side,
With royal guards before him, and behind,
And all the people, that were well inclin'd,
Until they came to Gihon's little stream,
Which from the court parted Jerusalem.
‘Let Zadock there, and Nathan him anoint,
‘For him I, king o'er Israel appoint,’
Said David, ‘in my stead, upon my throne
‘To sit, and henceforth take it for his own.

214

‘And when he is anointed, forthwith sound
‘The trumpet, and let all the people round,
‘With joyful acclamations, call upon
‘The Lord, and say, “God save king Solomon;”
‘Then bring him up, that he, as I ordain,
‘May over Israel and Judah reign.’

‘Amen,’ reply'd Benajah; ‘and, O may
‘Thy gracious God Amen unto it say;
‘As with my lord the king, the Lord hath been,
‘So may he too with Solomon be seen;
‘And may his throne transcend thy throne as far
‘As other thrones to thine inferior are.’

This said, away they all together go,
Zadock the priest, Nathan the prophet too,
Captain Benajah with the king's life guard,
The Cherethites and Pelethites, prepar'd
The king's command to execute, and those
To slay who should them in the work oppose.

The priest, out of the tabernacle took
An horn of oil, and down to Gihon-brook
They lead prince Solomon in royal state;
Priest, prophet, people, gladly on him wait;
And there the priest, upon his princely head,
From out his horn, the sacred oil did shed;
The trumpet then was blown, and thereupon
The people cry'd, ‘God save king Solomon’

215

Their throats were then distended, and the sound
Of trumpets was by that of voices drown'd;
Triumphant noises through the air did break,
And their transporting joys did loudly speak;
Such acclamations made, such shouts were giv'n,
As seem'd to rend the earth, and pierce th'heav'n.

CHAP. VII.

BY this time Adonijah, and the rest
Who had been entertained at his feast,
Their banquet past, were ready now to bring
Him forth in publick, to proclaim him king;
Buoy'd up with confidence of their success,
A priest attending them the work to bless,
And the old gen'ral Joab at their head,
The military forces up to lead;
When, on a sudden, the rebounding cries
Of Solomon's attendance, them surprize;
They heard and started; and the more they hear,
The more they're with amazement struck, and fear.
‘What,’ said old Joab, when he heard the sound
Of trumpets, and the shouts which trumpets drown'd,
‘May we suppose the cause of this to be?—
‘The city in an uproar seems to me.’

216

While he yet spake, came one unto the door,
Who had been proling out some time before,
Jonathan, who was son unto the priest
Abiathar, of traitors not the least,
Who having been abroad upon the scout,
Had seen the work the city was about.

Him, Adonijah seeing, said, ‘Come in,
‘And tell us what the matter is.—Begin,
‘For thou a man of noted valour art,
‘And usually good tidings dost impart;
‘Say, what's the bus'ness?’—‘Ah, alas!’ said he,
‘My tidings now will not be good to thee;
‘For, verily, our lord king David now
‘Hath Solomon made king.’ Then told him how,
Were, and by whom it managed had been,
And what relating to't, he'd heard or seen;
Adding, ‘the people's joy for their new king,
‘They so express'd, as made the city ring;
‘And that the noise is, which ye now have heard,
‘The cause of which is justly to be fear'd,
‘For Solomon now on the throne doth sit,
‘And doth to every one what he thinks fit.’

At this report, the guests were all afraid,
And slipt away; not one amongst them staid
With Adonijah. He, as well he might,
Deserted thus, fled in a grievous fright
Unto the altar, of its horns laid hold,
Hoping that sacred place now, as of old

217

It had to others done, might him protect;
At least till he might other means project,
His pardon to obtain. This being laid
Before king Solomon, he thereon said,
‘If he himself a worthy man will shew,
‘There shall for this no punishment ensue;
‘But if hereafter he again shall try
‘Ill practices against me, he shall die.’

Then Solomon sent messengers to bring
Him from the altar down unto the king;
He came, and to the king himself did bow,
Which shew'd he did his sov'reignty allow;
The king dismissing him, this only said,
‘Go to thy house, do well, and ben't afraid.’

This gentle dealing th'ancient king approv'd,
No doubt, because Adonijah he lov'd;
And, therefore, probably was glad to see
In his successor so much lenity;
Which made him, when his courtiers came to wait
Upon him, and with joy congratulate
This great deliv'rance, bow himself, and say,
‘Blest be the Lord, ev'n Israel's God this day,
‘Who, whilst I'm living, hath vouchsafed one
‘Of mine own sons to sit upon my throne.’
The sense whereof did make this godly king,
Unto the Lord, his Nunc dimittis sing.

218

And now the days of David drawing nigh,
Wherein, by course of nature, he should die,
He of king Solomon his leave did take,
And unto him he thus at parting spake:

‘I go the way of all the earth,’ said he,
‘Be strong, and let the man appear in thee.
‘God's sacred charge observe throughout thy days,
‘And walk uprightly in his holy ways;
‘His statutes keep, his high commands obey,
‘His judgments dread, his doctrines all display,
‘That in whate'er thine hand doth undertake,
‘Thou may'st the Lord to thee propitious make;
‘Then will the Lord confirm his word, which he
‘Most graciously did speak concerning me,
‘When he, some years ago, was pleas'd to say,
‘If thine shall take good heed unto their way,
‘With all their heart, and all their soul to walk,
‘In truth before me, justice never baulk,
‘Then shalt thou never want a favour'd son
‘To sit upon the Israelitish throne.’

This said, he Solomon instruction gave,
How he hereafter should himself behave,
To some who had from their allegiance swerv'd;
And others, who of him had well deserv'd:
Then having seen full threescore years and ten,
And forty passed in a glorious reign,

219

He with his fathers slept, and was interr'd
In his own city, which he most preferr'd;
And which, to honour him, thenceforth became
The royal sepulchre for men of fame.
And now my muse, might she so high presume,
Would write this epitaph upon his tomb.

EPITAPH.

Here lies king David, whose sharp sword did quell
The fiercest enemies of Israel.
Here the sweet singer lies, whose various state,
The psalms by him composed, do relate.
Here lies the man, who (for the greatest part)
Did walk according to the Lord's own heart.
His body in the grave below doth rest:
His spirit lives above, among the blest.

2 Sam. vii. 12.

FINIS.