The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
 | IV. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| III. |
|
|
XXIV—DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN;2 SAM i.19&c.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| VIII. |
 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
541
XXIV—DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN;2 SAM i.19&c.
Paraphrased thus
I.
Unhappy day! Distressing sight!Israel, the land of heav'n's delight,
How is thy strength, thy beauty fled!
On the high places of the fight
Behold thy princes fall'n, thy sons of victory dead.
II.
Ne'er be it told in Gath, nor knownAmong the streets of Askelon:
How will Philistia's youth rejoice
And triumph in our shame,
And girls with weak unhallowed voice
Chant the dishonours of the Hebrew name!
III.
Mountains of Gilboa, let no dewNor fruitful show'rs descend on you:
Curse on your fields thro' all the year,
No flow'ry blessings there appear,
Nor golden ranks of harvest stand
To grace the altar, or to feed the land.
'Twas in those inauspicious fields
Judean heroes lost their shields:
'Twas there (ah base reproach and scandal of the day!)
Thy shield, O Saul, was cast away,
As tho' the prophet's horn had never shed
Its sacred odours on thy head.
IV.
The sword of Saul had ne'er till now,Awoke to war in vain,
Nor Jonathan withdrawn his bow,
Without an army slain.
Where truth and honour mark'd their way,
Not eagles swifter to their prey,
Nor lions strong or bold as they.
V.
Graceful in arms and great in warWere Jonathan and Saul,
Pleasant in life, and manly fair;
Nor death divides the royal pair,
And thousands share their fall.
Daughters of Israel, melt your eyes
To softer tears, and swell your sighs,
Disrob'd, disgrac'd, your monarch lies,
On the bleak mountains, pale and cold:
He made rich scarlet your array;
Bright were your looks, your bosoms gay
With gems of regal gift, and interwoven gold.
VI.
How are the princes sunk in death!Fall'n on the shameful ground!
There my own Jonathan resign'd his breath:
On the high places where he stood,
He lost his honours and his blood;
Oh execrable arm that gave the mortal wound!
VII.
My Jonathan, my better part,My brother, and (that dearer name) my friend,
I feel the mortal wound that reach'd thy heart,
And here my comforts end.
How pleasant was thy love to me!
Amazing passion, strong and free!
No dangers could thy steady soul remove:
Not the soft virgin loves to that degree,
Nor man to that degree does the soft virgin love.
To name my joys, awakes my pain;
The dying friend runs cold through every vein.
My Jonathan, my dying friend,
How thick my woes arise! Where will my sorrows end?
VIII.
Unhappy day! Distressing sight!Israel, the land of heaven's delight,
How are thy princes fall'n thy sons of victory slain!
The broken bow, the shiver'd spear,
With all the sully'd pomp of war,
In rude confusion spread,
Promiscuous lie among the dead,
A lamentable rout o'er all the inglorious plain.
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |