University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE THE FIRST.

David, Abner.
Ab.
Behold me: at thy summons I appear
Ere scarce the king hath from the banquet risen.

Da.
I wish'd to speak to thee in secret here.

Ab.
Thou would'st perchance hear of the approaching fight? ...

Da.
And at the same time say, that thou art not
Subordinate to me; that both alike
Our people and our lawful king we serve,
And Israel's mighty God. Let not our breasts
Harbour another thought.

Ab.
I for our king,
From whose blood I descend, had in the camp
Already brandish'd my ensanguined sword
Before the shrill twang of thy sling was heard.

Da.
The monarch's blood runs not within my veins:
To all my deeds are known; I boast them not;
Abner, thou know'st them.—In forgetfulness
Let them be buried: only recollect
Thine own; and, emulous of thy former fame,
Seek only to surpass thyself to-day.

Ab.
I hitherto believed myself the leader:
David was not here then; I ventured hence
To order all things for the victory:
Hear what I should have done had I commanded.—
Full in our front, from north to south, the camp
Of the Philistines fills the valley's length.
Behind it rise thick bushes; 'tis defended
By lofty banks in front: eastward 'tis flank'd
By a not lofty hill, of gentle slope
Towards the camp, but rough, precipitous,
On the opposite descent; an ample outlet
Lies amid mountains to the west, through which
By a vast plain the traveller may go,
Exempt from hindrance, to the murmuring ocean.
Here, if we thither can decoy our foes,
The victory will be ours.
But, to accomplish that, 'tis needful first
To feign retreat. In three battalions form'd,
If we towards the valley's left side bend,
We shall in front encounter their right flank.
The first battalion with forced march advances,
And seems to fly; the second, more supine,
Remains behind, in thin, disorder'd ranks,
A sure temptation to our enemies.
Meanwhile, a band conspicuous for its valour
The rugged hill towards the east has gain'd,
And on the rear of the invading host
Reissues. Thus in front is it enclosed,
Behind, transversely; and behold we make
Of it, a dreadful, universal carnage.

Da.
Equally wise and valorous art thou.
And nothing, Abner, should we dare to change
Of thy design. Valour, wherever found,
Obtains my praise. A soldier I will be,
And not a leader: and my coming here
Shall, by the addition of a sword alone,
Alter thy battle.

Ab.
David is the leader;
David is master of our armies. Who
Combats, compared with him?

Da.
Who less indeed
Should stoop to jealousy than Abner, since
He is so highly gifted? Excellent,
However I behold it, is thy scheme.
Myself and Jonathan beside the tent
Of Saul shall combat; further, towards the north,
Uz shall advance; with thousand chosen men
Sadoc the eastern eminence shall gain;
And thou, with greatest numbers, shall command
The body of the army.

Ab.
This to thee
Belongs: it is the place of honour.

Da.
Hence
I place thee there.—As yet the sun ascends:
Thou shalt keep all in steady preparation;
But till the fourth hour of the afternoon
Be not the trumpets heard. Perceiv'st thou not
A violent west wind blows; the dazzling sun
And driven dust will, towards the close of day,
Assist our enterprize.

Ab.
Thou speakest wisely.

Da.
Now go, command, and do not from thyself,
With base and courtly artifice, of which
Thou should'st be ignorant, avert that praise,
Which, as a captain, thou so well deservest.

SCENE THE SECOND.

David.
Da.
The order of the fight is wise and subtle.—
But if he have not gain'd his soldier's hearts,
What boots the forecast of a general?
Of this alone is Abner destitute;
And this God grants to me. To-day we conquer;
To-morrow once more do I leave the king;
For never in his sight can there be peace,
For me ... What do I say? New victory
Would be ascribed to me as a new crime.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Michal, David.
Mi.
David, hast thou not heard? My father scarce
Rose from a joyous banquet, when towards him
Abner advanced, and spake to him an instant.
I enter'd, he retired; I found the king
No longer what he was.

Da.
But yet, what said he?
What couldest thou infer? ...

Mi.
Erewhile was he
Devoted to our cause; with us he wept;
Alternately embraced us; and from us,
As if in his defence, he prophesied
A race of future heroes. He appear'd
To us, as he said this, more than a father;
More than a king he now appears to me.

Da.
Ah! do not weep, oh wife, before thy time:
Saul is our king; his will in us must be
Accomplish'd. So that he to-day obtain
The battle, let him 'gainst myself to-morrow
Resume his cruel thoughts: I will resume
My abject state, my bitter banishment,
My fugitive and apprehensive life.
My true and only death is thus to leave thee:
And yet I ought to do it ... Ah vain hopes!
Ah nuptial ties for thee how inauspicious!
Another consort, that of which I rob thee,
To thee had given, a prosperous royal state.
Wretch that I am! ... Nor canst thou ever make me,
(Thy ever fugitive and homeless consort,)
The father of a numerous blooming offspring.

Mi.
Ah no! we never shall again be parted:
No one will dare to rend thee from my breast.
I never shall return, no, never more,
To that disconsolate life which I dragg'd on
Deprived of thee: rather than so return
May I become an inmate of the grave.
I languish'd in that palace of despair,
Alone and weeping, through the tedious days;
The shades of night with horrible dreams were fraught.
Now I beheld my cruel father's sword
Suspended o'er thy head; thy voice I heard
Persuasive, weeping, supplicating, such
As might from breasts of adamant dislodge
Deep-rooted hate and fell obduracy;
And yet the barbarous Saul, in spite of this,
Plunged in thy heart the dagger. Now I saw thee
'Mid secret labyrinths of low-brow'd caves,
Pillowing thy body on unyielding flint;
While at the motion of a rustling leaf
Thy faint heart trembled; and thou sought'st another,
And thence another, yet in vain to find
A place of rest, or quietness, or friends:
Sick, anxious, weary ... worn with parching thirst ...
And ravening hunger ... Can I represent
My pangs, my apprehensions, and my woes?—
No more, no, never will I leave thee, never.

Da.
Thou torturest my heart: ah cease: ... This day
Is consecrated to blood, and not to tears.

Mi.
Provided that an obstacle to-day
Arise not to thy fighting, I fear not
The fight on thy account. Thou hast a shield
Proof against all assaults, Almighty God:
But I am fearful lest perfidious Abner,
On thy account, frustrate, or intercept
The victory to-day.

Da.
And what, did Saul
Seem to thee doubtfully to trust to me
To-day the conduct of the enterprize?

Mi.
I heard not that; but sternly did he frown,
And whisper'd to himself I know not what
Of trait'rous priests, of strangers in the camp,
Of simulated virtue ... Broken, dark,
Mournful, tremendous words, to her who is
The wife of David and the child of Saul.

Da.
See him: we will be heard.

Mi.
Just God, I pray thee,
Succour to-day thy consecrated servant:
Confound blasphemers; reillumine my father;
Protect my husband; and defend thy people.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Saul, Jonathan, David, Michal.
Jon.
Ah come, beloved father; to thy thoughts
Allow a little respite: the pure air
Will bring thee some refreshment; come, and sit
A little while among thy children here.

Sa.
What is it that you say?

Mi.
Beloved father! ...

Sa.
Who, who are ye? ... Who speaks of pure air here? ...
This! ... 'tis a thick impenetrable gloom;
A land of darkness; and the shades of death ...
Ah see! more nearly it approaches me? ...
A fatal wreath of blood surrounds the sun ...
Heard'st thou the death-notes of ill-omen'd birds
With loud laments the vocal air resounds
That smite my ears, compelling me to weep.
But what, do ye weep also? ...

Jon.
Mighty God
Of Israel, dost thou thus thy face avert
From wretched Saul? Is he, thy servant once,
Abandon'd to the adversary thus?

Mi.
Father, thy much-loved daughter is beside thee.
If thou art cheerful, she is also cheerful;
She, if thou weepest, weeps ... But wherefore now
Should we shed tears? Pleasure hath reappeared.

Sa.
Thou would'st say, David. Ah! ... Why doth not he
Also embrace me with my other children?

Da.
Oh father! ... I have been restrain'd by fear
Of importuning thee. Ah! why canst thou
Not read my heart? I evermore am thine.

Sa.
Thou lovest then ... the house ... of Saul?

Da.
I love it!
Oh heaven! Dear as the apple of mine eye
To me is Jonathan; I neither know,
Nor heed a peril in the world for thee;
Let my wife, if she can, say with what love,
And how much love, I love her.

Sa.
Yet thyself
Thou mightily dost prize.

Da.
I, prize myself ...
No despicable soldier in the camp,
In court thy son-in-law, I deem myself;
But nothing, nothing in the sight of God.

Sa.
Incessantly to me of God thou speakest;
Yet thou well knowest that the crafty rage,
Cruel, tremendous, of perfidious priests,
Has for a long time sever'd me from God.
Dost thou thus name him to insult me?

Da.
I
Name him, to give him glory. Why dost thou
Believe that he no longer is with thee?
He doth not dwell with him who loves him not:
But doth he ever fail to succour him
Who oft invokes him, and who hath reposed
In him implicit trust? He to the throne
Appointed thee; and on that throne he keeps thee:
And if in him, in him exclusively
Thou dost confide, he's thine, and thou art his.

Sa.
Who speaks of heaven? ... Is he in snowy vest
Enrobed who thus his sacred lip unseals?
Let us behold him ... Thou'rt a warrior; thou
Graspest the sword: ... approach, and let me see
If David thus or Samuel doth accost me.—
What sword is this? 'Tis not the same, methinks,
Which I, with my own hands, on thee bestow'd.

Da.
This is the sword that my poor sling acquired;
The sword that over me in Elah hung
Threatening my life; in fierce Goliah's hands
I saw it flash a horrid glare of death
Before my eyes; he grasp'd it; but it bears
Not mine, but his coagulated blood.

Sa.
Was not that sword, a consecrated thing,
In Nob, within the tabernacle hung?
Was it not wrapp'd within the mystic Ephod,
And thus from all unhallow'd eyes conceal'd,
Devoted to the Lord of hosts for ever?

Da.
'Tis true; but ...

Sa.
Whence didst thou obtain it then?
Who dared to give it thee?

Da.
I will confess.
Powerless and fugitive to Nob I came:
Wherefore I fled thou knowest. Every path
Was crowded with unhappy wretches; I,
Defenceless, found myself at every step
Within the jaws of death. With humble brow
I kneel'd within the tabernacle, where
The spirit of God descends: and there, these arms
(Which if a living man might to his side
Refit them, David surely was that man)
Myself demanded of the priest.

Sa.
And he ...

Da.
Gave them to me.

Sa.
He was ...

Da.
Ahimeleoh.

Sa.
Perfidious traitor! ... Vile! ... Where is the altar? ...
Oh rage ... Ah, all are miscreants! traitors all! ...
Oh foes to God! are ye his ministers? ...
Black souls in vestments white! ... Where is the axe?
Where is the altar? ... Let him be destroy'd! ...
Where is the offering? ... I myself will slay him.

Mi.
Father!

Jon.
What mean these words? Where dost thou fly?
Be pacified, I pray thee: there are not
Or altars here or victims: in the priests
Respect that God who hears thee evermore.

Sa.
Who thus restrains me? Who resists me thus?
Who forces me to sit?

Jon.
Father ...

Da.
Ah thou,
Great God of Israel, do thou succour him:
Thy servant kneels to thee, and prays for this.

Sa.
I am bereft of peace: the sun, the earth,
My children, and my power of thought, all, all
Are taken from me! ... Ah unhappy Saul!
Who doth console thee? Who is now the guide,
The prop of thy bewilder'd feebleness?
Thy children are all mute; they scowl on thee ...
And of the doting and infirm old man
They only wish the death: nothing attracts
My children's wishes but the diadem,
Whose weight thy hoary head but ill sustains.
Wrest it at once: and at the same time sever
From this now tremulous and decaying form
Your father's palsied head ... Ah wretched state!
Better were death! I wish to die! ...

Mi.
Oh father!
We all desire thy life. We each of us
Would die ourselves to rescue thee from death.

Jon.
Now since in tears his fury is dissolved,
Brother, do thou, to recompose his soul,
Exert thy voice. So many times already
Hast thou rapt him with thy celestial songs
In calm oblivion.

Mi.
Yes; thou seest now
The respiration in his panting breast
Almost subsides: his eye-balls, late so fierce,
So hot and dry, swim in balsamic tears:
Now is the time to lend him thy assistance.

Da.
May God in mercy speak to him through me.

Sa.
Hear I the voice
Of David? ... From a mortal lethargy
It seems to wake me, and to me displays
The cheering radiance of my early years.

David.

Sa.
This is the voice of my departed years,
That from the tomb to glory now recalls me.
I live again in my victorious youth
When I hear this ... What do I say? Alas! ...
Should cries of war be now address'd to me?
Oblivion, indolence, and peace, invite
The old man to themselves.

Da.
Let peace be sung.

Sa.
Happy the father of a race like this!
Oh peace of mind! ... how precious are thy gifts
To wretches like myself by thee deserted! ...
I feel ineffably through all my veins
Balsamic dews of sweet composure steal ...
But what pretendest thou? To make Saul vile
Amid domestic ease? Does valiant Saul
Now lie an useless implement of war?

David.

Sa.
Who, who thus boasts? Is there, except my sword,
Which I unsheathe, another in the camp?
He's a blasphemer, let him perish, he
Who dares defy it.

Mi.
Ah forbear: Oh heaven! ...

Jon.
Father, what would'st thou do?

Da.
Unhappy king!

Mi.
Ah fly! ... Ah fly! With difficulty we
From violence restrain him.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Jonathan, Saul, Michal.
Mi.
Stop, oh stop,
Beloved father!

Jon.
I beseech thee stop.

Sa.
Who thus restrains me? Who presumes to do it? ...
Where is my sword? Restore my sword at once ...

Jon.
Do thou retire with us, beloved father:
I shall not suffer thee to advance a step.
Behold, thy children now are all alone:
Return with us to thy pavilion; now
Thou needest quietness. Ah come! ... Refrain
From causeless rage; thy children stand around thee.

Mi.
And they shall never, never quit thy presence.