Occasional Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Prostrate on Earth the bleeding Warrior lies,
And Israel's Beauty on the Mountains dies;
How are the Mighty fallen!
Hush'd be my Sorrows, gently fall my Tears,
Lest my sad Tale shou'd reach the Aliens Ears:
Bid Fame be dumb, and tremble to proclaim
In Heathen Gath, or Ascalon, our Shame;
Lest proud Philistia, lest our haughty Foe,
With impious Scorn insult our solemn Woe.

O Gilboa! ye Hills aspiring high,
The last sad Scene of Israel's Tragedy:

No fatt'ning Dews be on thy Lawns distill'd,
No kindly Show'rs refresh the thirsty Field;
No hallow'd Fruits thy barren Soil shall raise,
No spotless Kids, that on our Altars blaze;
Lonesome and wild shall thy bleak Summits rise,
Accurs'd by Men, and hateful to the Skies.
On thee the Shields of mighty Warriors lay,
The Shield of Saul was vilely cast away;
The Lords anointed Saul! his sacred Blood
Distain'd thy Brow, and swell'd the common Flood.
How are the Mighty fallen!

Where'er their Bands the Royal Heroes led,
The Combat thicken'd, and the Mighty bled;
The slaughter'd Hosts beneath their Falchions die,
And wing'd with Death unerring Arrows fly;
Unknowing to return, still urge the Foe,
As Fate insatiate, and as sure the Blow.

The Son, who next his conqu'ring Father fought,
Repeats the Wonders his Example taught:
Eager his Sire's illustrious Steps to trace,
And by Heroick Deeds assert his Race.

The Royal Eagle thus her ripening Brood
Trains to the Quarry, and directs to Blood:
His Darling thus, the Forest Monarch rears,
A firm Associate for his future Wars:
In Union terrible, they seize the Prey,
The Mountains tremble, and the Woods obey.

In Peace united, as in War combin'd,
Were Jonathan's, and Saul's Affections join'd,
Paternal Grace with filial Duty vy'd,
And Love the Knot of Nature closer ty'd.
Ev'n Fate relents, reveres the sacred Band,
And undivided bids their Friendship stand.

From Earth to Heav'n enlarg'd, their Joys improve,
Still fairer, brighter still, they shine above,
Blest in a long Eternity of Love.

Daughters of Israel, o'er the Royal Urn
Wail and lament; the King, the Father, mourn.
Oh! now at least indulge a pious Woe,
'Tis all the Dead receive, the Living can bestow.
Cast off your rich Attire, and proud Array,
Let undissembled Sorrows cloud the Day:
Those Ornaments victorious Saul bestow'd,
With Gold your Necks, your Robes with Purple glow'd:
Quit Crowns, and Garlands, for the sable Weed,
To Songs of Triumph let dumb Grief succeed,
Let all our grateful Hearts for our dead Patron bleed.
How are the Mighty fallen!

Tho' thus distress'd, tho' thus o'erwhelm'd with Grief,
Light is the Burthen that admits Relief;
My lab'ring Soul superiour Woes oppress,
Nor rolling Time can heal, nor Fate redress.
Another Saul your Sorrows can remove,
No second Jonathan shall bless my Love.

O Jonathan! my Friend, my Brother dear,
Eyes stream afresh, and call forth ev'ry Tear:
Swell my sad Heart, each fault'ring Pulse beat low,
Down sink my Head beneath this Weight of Woe:
Hear my Laments, ye Hills! ye Woods return
My ceaseless Groans; with me ye Turtles mourn!
How pleasant hast' thou been! each lovely Grace,
Each youthful Charm fate blooming on thy Face:
Joy from thine Eyes in radiant Glories sprung,
And Manna dropt from thy persuasive Tongue.

Witness great Heav'n! (from you those Ardours came)
How wonderful his Love! the kindest Dame
Lov'd not like him, nor felt so warm a Flame.
No Earthly Passion to such Height aspires,
And Seraphs only burn with purer Fires.
In vain, while Honour calls to glorious Arms,
And Israel's Cause the pious Patriot warms:
In vain, while Deaths promiscuous fly below,
Nor Youth can bribe, nor Virtue ward the Blow.