University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

David, Michal.
Mi.
Come forth, my consort; come: the night already
Is far advanced ... Listen, what mingled sounds
Issue from yonder camp? The fierce encounter
To-morrow's dawn will witness.—Round the tent
Where sleeps my father every sound is hush'd.
Behold; the heavens themselves assist thy flight:
The moon is setting, and a black cloud veils
Her latest rays. Let us depart: no one
Watches our footsteps now, let us depart:
We may descend the mountain by this slope,
And God, where'er we go, will be our guide.

Da.
Oh spouse, the better portion of myself,
While Israel is preparing for attack,
Can it be true that I prepare for flight?
And what is death that I should thus avoid it?
I will remain: let Saul, if he will, slay me;
So that I first in numbers slay the foe.

Mi.
Ah! thou know'st not: already hath the rage
Of Saul in blood his lifted arm embrued.
Ahimelech, discover'd here, hath fallen
The victim of his violence already.

Da.
What do I hear? Hath he his unsheathed sword
Turn'd on defenceless priests? Ill-fated Saul! ...

Mi.
Thou must hear more. The monarch gave himself
Cruel command to Abner, that, if thou
In battle should'st be seen, our champions should
Against thee turn their arms.

Da.
And Jonathan,
My friend, bears this?

Mi.
Oh Heaven! what can he do?
He too endured his father's rage; and ran
Distractedly 'mid combatants to die.
Now, thou seest clearly, thou canst not stay here:
Thou art forced to yield; to fly from hence; and wait,
Or that my father change, or that he bend
Beneath the weight of years ... Ah, cruel father!
Thou thyself, thou forcest thy wretched daughter
To wish the fatal day ... But yet, oh no,
Thy death I do not wish for: live in peace;
Live if thou canst; 'twill be enough for me
T'enjoy for ever my loved consort's presence ...
Ah, come then; let us go ...

Da.
How much I grieve
To leave the fight! I hear an unknown voice
Cry in my heart, “For Israel and his king
“The terrible day is come.” ... Could I! ... But no:
The innocent blood of sacred ministers
Was here pour'd out: the camp is now impure,
Contaminate is the soil; the face of God
Is hence averted: David now no more
Can combat here. It is my duty, then,
To yield awhile to thy anxiety,
And provident love.—But thou too yield to mine.
Ah! suffer me alone ...

Mi.
Shall I leave thee?
Behold, I clasp thee by thy garment's hem;
No, never more I part from thee ...

Da.
Ah, hear me!
Ill could thy tardy steps keep pace with mine:
Paths, rough with briars and stones, I shall be force
To tread with indefatigable feet
If I would seek, complying with thy wish,
A place of refuge. How can thy soft limbs
Bear up against the unaccustom'd torment?
And shall I in the wilderness alone
Ever abandon thee? Thou seest clearly;
Quickly, by thy means, I should be discover'd
Quickly would both of us be reconducted
To the fear'd vengeance of the king ... Oh Heaven!
The mere thought makes me shudder ... Further grant,
That we ensured our flight, can I take thee
From thy sick-sorrowing father? He is placed
Far from the dainty shelter of his palace,
Amid the hardships of a camp: his pangs,
His irritable age, some solace need.
Ah! wipe the tear-drops from his furrow'd cheeks,
His melancholy sooth, his fury lull.
Thou only pleasest him; thou waitest on him;
And thou alone preservest him alive.
He wishes me destroy'd; but I wish him
Rescued from danger, happy, and triumphant ...
To-day I tremble for him.—Ere thou wert
A wife thou wert a daughter: nor canst thou,
Without delinquency, too much indulge
Thy love for me.—Provided I escape,
What further canst thou wish for me at present?
Do not withdraw thyself, I pray thee, do not
From thy already too, too wretched father.
As soon as I have found a place of refuge,
I'll cause the tidings to be sent to thee.
We shall, I hope, be reunited soon.
Think what it costs me to abandon thee ...
But yet! ... ah how? ...

Mi.
And must I once more lose thee?
Once more permit thee to return alone
To former sufferings, to a wandering life,
To perils, and to solitary caves? ..
Ah, if I only always were with thee! ..
I might, perchance, alleviate thy ills
By sharing them.

Da.
I do beseech thee, Michal,
By our affection; and, if there be need,
I also do command thee; inasmuch
As one that loves, as I do, may command,
Do not now follow me: thou canst not do it
Without ensuring my effectual ruin.—
But if God will my safety, I ought not
To tarry longer here: the time advances:
Some spy from his pavilion might detect us,
And cruelly divulge our purposes.
I know each bosky covert of this hill,
And feel most certain that I can elude
All human vigilance.—Give, give me now
The last embrace. May God be thy support!
And do thou never, never quit thy father,
Till Heaven once more unite thee to thy consort ...

Mi.
The last embrace? ... And shall I then survive it? ...
I feel, I feel my trembling heart-strings burst ...

Da.
And I? ... But I beseech thee check thy tears.—
Now imp my feet with wings, Almighty God.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Michal.
Mi.
... He flies! ... Oh heavens ... I will pursue him ... Ah!
With what invisible fetters am I bound? ...
I cannot follow him.—He flies from me! ...
Scarce can I stand ... much less o'ertake his steps ...
Once more then have I lost him! ... Who can tell
When I shall see him? And art thou a wife,
Thou wretched lady? ... Were thine nuptial rites? ...
No, no; no more beside my cruel father
Will I remain. I follow thee, oh spouse ...
Yet if I follow him I cause his death?—
Can I, to feign accordance with his steps,
Dissemble my slow pace? ... But from yon camp
What murmur do I hear, like din of arms? ...
I hear it plainly ... and it waxes louder:
And with the trumpet's dissonance is mix'd:
The tramp of horses also ... What is this?
Th'attack before the rising of the sun?
Saul gave no hint of this. Who knows? ... Perchance
My brothers ... Jonathan ... alas ... in danger! ...
But tears and howlings and deep groans I hear
From the pavilion of my father rise?
Unhappy father! ... I will run to meet him ...
But ... he himself approaches; how forlorn! ...
How desolate! ... How little like himself! ...

SCENE THE THIRD.

Saul, Michal.
Sa.
Incensed, tremendous shade, ah quit my sight! ...
Leave me, oh leave me! ... At thy feet I kneel! ...
Where do I fly? ... Where can I hide myself? ...
Oh fierce, vindictive spectre be appeased ...
But to my supplications art thou deaf,
And dost thou spurn me? ... Burst asunder, earth,
Swallow me up alive ... Ah! that at least
The fierce and threatening looks of that dire shade
May not quite pierce me through ...

Mi.
From whom fliest thou?
No one pursues thee. Dost thou not see me?
Father, dost thou not know me?

Sa.
Oh most high,
Most holy priest, wilt thou that here I pause?
Oh Samuel, thou my real father once,
Dost thou command it? Prostrate, see, I fall
At thy supreme command. Thou, with thy hand,
Placed'st the royal crown upon this head;
Thou didst adorn it; strip it, strip it now
Of all its honours; tread them under foot.—
But oh ... the flaming sword of God's revenge
Which glares eternally before my eyes ...
Thou, who canst do it, snatch it not from me,
Oh no, but from my children. Of my crime,
My children they are innocent ...

Mi.
Oh state
Of agony unparallel'd!—Thy sight
Bodies forth things that are not: father, turn
Thyself to me ...

Sa.
Oh joy! ... Is peace inscribed
Upon thy face? Severe old man, hast thou
In part my prayers accepted? From thy feet
I will not rise, till thou hast first deliver'd
My unoffending children from thy vengeance.—
What voice exclaim'd, “And David was thy son;
“And thou pursued'st him, yes ... e'en to death.”
Of what dost thou accuse me? ... Pause, oh pause ...
David, where is he? ... Find him: let him come;
And let him slay me at his will and reign ...
Provided only that he spare my children,
Be the throne his ... But art thou pitiless? ...
Thine eyes are orbs of blood; thy hand is fire,
And fire thy sword; thy ample nostrils breathe
Sulphureous flames, that glare and dart at me ...
They've caught me now: they burn my heart to dust:
Where shall I fly? ... or whither find deliverance?

Mi.
Cannot my hands restrain thee, nor my voice
Convince thee of the truth? Hear me: thou art ...

Sa.
But no; on this side a prodigious stream
Of blood restrains my steps ... Atrocious sight!
On both its shores in mountains are up-piled
Great heaps of recent corpses: all is death
On this side: thitherward I then will fly ...
But what do I behold? Who then are ye?—
“We are the children of Ahimelech.
“I am Ahimelech. Die, monarch, die.”—
What cry is that? I recognize him well:
With recent blood he reeks; let him drink mine.
And who is this that drags me from behind?
Thou, Samuel, thou?—What did he say? That soon
We all should be with him? I only, I
Shall be with thee; but spare my children ... spare.—
Where am I? ... In an instant from my sight
Have all the spectres vanish'd. Where am I?
What have I said? What am I doing? Who
Art thou? What dissonance is this I hear?
It seems to me most like the din of battle:
But the day dawns not yet: ah yes, it is
War's horrid uproar. Quickly, quickly bring
My shield, my spear, my helmet: now with speed
The weapons, the king's weapons. I will die,
But in the camp.

Mi.
Father, what art thou doing?
Be tranquil ... to thy daughter ...

Sa.
I will have
My arms; what daughter? Now thou dost obey me.
My helm, my spear, my shield: these are my children.

Mi.
I will not leave thee, no ...

Sa.
The trumpets sound
Louder and louder. Thither let me go:
For me my sword alone will be sufficient.—
Thou, quit my side, depart; obey me: there
The death which I am now pursuing dwells.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Saul, Michal, Abner, with a few fugitive Soldiers.
Ab.
Oh wretched king! ... Now whither dost thou fly?
This is a dreadful night.

Sa.
But whence this battle?

Ab.
The foe assail'd us unawares: we are
Wholly discomfited ...

Sa.
Discomfited?
And liv'st thou, traitor?

Ab.
I? I live to save thee.
Now, now perchance thy foes rush hitherward:
We are compell'd to shun the first attack:
Meanwhile the day will dawn. Thee will I lead,
With a few followers, to yon upland copses ...

Sa.
Shall I then live, while all my people fall?

Ab.
Ah come! ... advance ... the tumult waxes louder.

Sa.
My children ... Jonathan ... do they too fly?
Do they abandon me?

Ab.
Oh Heaven! ... Thy children ...
No, no; they fled not ... Ill-starr'd progeny! ...

Sa.
I understand thee: they are all destroy'd ...

Mi.
Alas! ... My brothers? ...

Ab.
Thou no more hast sons.

Sa.
What now remains for me? ... Thou, thou alone,
But not for me, remainest.—In my heart
Have I been long time finally resolved:
And now the hour is come.—Abner, the last
Is this of my commands. My daughter now
Guide to some place of safety.

Mi.
Father, no;
Around thee will I twine myself: the foe
Will never aim a sword against a female.

Sa.
Oh daughter! ... say no more: compel me not
To weep. A conquer'd king should never weep.
Save her, oh Abner; go: but if she fall
Within the enemy's power, say not, oh no,
That she's the child of Saul, rather assure them
That she is David's wife; they will respect her.
Go; fly ...

Ab.
She shall, I swear to thee, be safe,
If I can aught avail; but thou meantime ...

Mi.
Oh! ... father ... I will not, I cannot leave thee ...

Sa.
I will it; and I yet am king. But see,
The armed bands approach: Abner, fly hence;
Drag her by force with thee if it be needful.

Mi.
Oh father! ... and for ever? ...

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Saul.
Sa.
Oh my children! ...
I was a father.—See thyself alone,
Oh king; of thy so many friends and servants
Not one remains.—Inexorable God,
Is thy retributory wrath appeased?
But thou remain'st to me, oh sword: now come
My faithful servant in extremity.—
Hark, hark! the howlings of the insolent victors;
The lightening of their burning torches glares
Before my eyes already; and I see
Their swords by thousands ... —Impious Philistine,
Thou shalt find me, but like a king, here ... dead.