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And thus, beneath her window, did he touch
His faithful lyre; the words and numbers such
As did well worth my memory appear,
And may perhaps deserve your princely ear:

AWAKE, awake, my Lyre!

And tell thy silent master's humble tale,
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:
Though so exalted she,

And I so lowly be,

With ease a brother's lawful power o'ercame
The formal decencies of virgin-shame.
She first with all her heart forgave the past,
Heard David tell his flames, and told her own at
last.

Lo here the happy point of prosperous love!
Which ev'n enjoyment seldom can improve.
Themselves agreed, which scarce could fail
alone;

All Israel's wish concurrent with their own;
A brother's powerful aid firm to the side;
By solemn vow the king and father ty'd:

Tell her, such different notes make all thy har- All jealous fears, all nice disguises, past,

mony.

Hark! how the strings awake:

All that in less-ripe love offends the taste;
In either's breast their souls both meet and wed,
Their heart the nuptial-temple and the bed.

And, though the moving hand approach not near, And, though the grosser cates were yet not drest,

Themselves with awful fear,

A kind of numerous trembling make.

Now all thy forces try,

Now all thy charms apply,

Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.

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She heard all this, and the prevailing sound
Touch'd with delightful pain her tender wound.
Yet, though she joy'd th' authentic news to hear,
Of what she guess'd before with jealous fear,
She check'd her forward joy, and blush'd for
shame,

And did his boldness with forc'd anger blame.
The senseless rules which first false honour taught,
And into laws the tyrant custom brought-
Which women's pride and folly did invent,
Their lovers and themselves too to torment,-
Made her next day a grave displeasure fain,
And all her words, and all her looks, constrain
Before the trembling youth; who, when he saw
His vital light her wonted beams withdraw,
He curs'd his voice, his fingers, and his lyre,
He curs'd his too-hold tongue, and bold desire;
In vain he cursed the last, for that still grew;
From all things food its strong complexion drew;
His joy and hope their cheerful motions ceas'd,
His life decay'd, but still his love increas'd;
Whilst she, whose heart approv'd not her disdain,
Saw and endur'd his pans with greater pain,
But Jonathan, to whom both hearts were known,
With a concernment equ1 to their own

By which their bodies must supply this feast,
Bold hopes prevent slow pleasure's lingering birth,
As saints, assur'd of Heaven, enjoy 't on Earth.
All this the king observ'd; and well he saw
What scandal, and what danger, it might draw
T'oppose this just and popular match; but meant
T'out-malice all refusals by consent.

Joyful that Heaven with is sworn love comply'd To draw that knot more fast which he had ty'd) With well-tim'd zeal, and with an artful care, Restor'd, and better'd soon, the nice affair.

He meant the poisonous grant should mortal

prove;

He meant t' ensnare his virtue by his love:
And thus he to him spoke, with more of art
And fraud, than well became the kingly part:-

'Your valour, David, and high worth, said he,
To praise is all men's duty, mine to see
Rewarded; and we shall t' our utmost powers
Do with like care that part, as you did yours.
Forbid it, God! we like those kings should prove,
Who fear the virtues which they're bound to
love.

Your piety does that tender point secure,
Nor will my acts such humble thoughts endure:
Your nearness to't rather supports the crown,
And th' honours given to you increase our own.
All that we can we 'll give; 'tis our intent,
Both as a guard and as an ornament, [prove,
To place thee next ourselves; Heaven does ap-
And my son's friendship, and my daughter's
love,

Guide fatally, methinks, my willing choice;
I see, methinks, Heaven in 't, and I rejoice.
Blush not, my son that Michal's love I name,
Nor need she blush to hear it; 'tis no shame
Nor secret now; fame does it loudy tell,
And all men but thy rivals like it well.
If Merab's choice could have complied with mine,
Merab, my elder comfort, had been thine:
And her's, at last, should have with mine com-

ply'd,

Had I not thine and Michal's heart descry'd.
Take whom thou lov'st, and who loves thee; the
last

And dearest present made me by the chaste
Ahinoam; and, unless she me deceive,
When I to Jonathan my crown shall leave,
"Twill be a smaller gift.

If I thy generous thoughts may undertake
To guess, they are what jointure thou shalt make
Fitting her birth and fortune: and, since so
Custom ordains, we mean t' exact it too.
The jointure we exact is, that shall be
No less advantage to thy fame than she.
Go where Philistian troops infest the land,
Renew the terrours of thy conquering band:

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A public good shall its beginning grace,
And give triumphant omens of thy race.'
"Thus spoke the king: the happy youth bow'd
low:

Modest and graceful his great joy did show;
The noble task well pleas'd his generous mind,
And nought t' except against it could he find,
But that his mistress' price too cheap appear'd;
No danger, but her scorn of it, he fear'd.
She with much different sense the news receiv'd,
At her high rate she trembled, blush'd, and
griev'd;

'Twas a less work the conquest of his foes,
Than to obtain her leave his life t' expose.
Their kind debate on this soft point would prove
Tedious, and needless, to repeat: if love
(As sure it has) e'er touch'd your princely
breast,

'Twill to your gentle thoughts at full suggest All that was done, or said; the grief, hope, fears;

His troubled joys, and her obliging tears.
In all the pomp of passion's reign they part;
And bright prophetic forms enlarge his heart:
Victory and fame, and that more quick delight
Of the rich prize for which he was to fight.

"Tow'rds Gath he went, and in one month (so
A fatal and a willing work is done!) [soon
A double dower, two hundred foreskins, brought
Of choice Philistian knights with whom he fought,
Men that in birth and valour did excel,
Fit for the cause and hand by which they fell.
Now was Saul caught; nor longer could delay
The two resistless lovers' happy day. [slow,
Though this day's coming long had seem'd and
Yet seem'd its stay as long and tedious now;
For, now the violent weight of eager love
Did with more haste so near its centre move,
He curs'd the stops of form and state which lay
In this last stage, like scandals, in his way.
"On a large gentle hill crown'd with tall wood,
Near where the regal Gabaah proudly stood,
A tent was pitch'd, of green wrought damask
made,

And seem'd but the fresh forest's natural shade;
Various and vast within, on pillars borne
Of Shittim-wood, that usefully adorn,
Hither to grace the nuptial-feast, does Saul
"Of the twelve tribes th' elders and captains call:
And all around the idle, busy crowd
With shouts and blessings tell their joy aloud.
Lo! the press breaks, and from their several
homes

In decent pride the bride and bridegroom comes.
Before the bride, in a long double row
With solemn pace thirty choice virgins go,
And make a moving galaxy on Earth;
All heavenly beauties, all of highest birth;

All clad in liveliest colours, fresh and fair
As the bright flowers that crown'd their brighter
hair;

All in that new-blown age which does inspire
Warmth in themselves, in their beholders fire.
But all this, and all else the Sun did e'er,
Or Fancy see, in her less-bounded sphere,
The bride herself outshone; and one would say
They made but the faint dawn to her full day.
Behind a numerous train of ladies went,
Who on their dress much fruitless care had spent;
Vain gems, and unregarded cost, they bore,
For all men's eyes were ty'd to those before.
The bridegroom's flourishing troop fill'd next the
place,

With thirty comely youths of noblest race,
That march'd before; and Heaven around his
head

The graceful beams of joy and beauty spread.
So the glad star, which men and angels love,
Prince of the glorious host that shines above
(No light of Heaven so chearful or so gay)
Lifts up his sacred lamp, and opens day.
The king himself, at the tent's crowned gate,
In all his robes of ceremony and state,
Sate to receive the train; on either hand
Did the high-priest and the great prophet stand:
Adriel, behind, Jonathan, Abner, Jesse,
And all the chiefs in their due order press.
First Saul declar'd his choice, and the just cause
Avow'd by a general murmur of applause;
Then sign'd her dower; and in few words he
pray'd,

And blest, and gave the joyful, trembling maid
T'her lover's hands; who, with a cheerful look
And humble gesture, the vast present took.
The nuptial-hymn straight sounds, and musica
play,

And feasts and balls shorten the thoughtless day
To all but to the wedded; till at last
The long-wish'd night did her kind shadow cast;
At last th' inestimable hour was come

To lead his conquering prey in triumph home.
T'a palace near, drest for the nuptial-bed,
(Part of her dower) he his fair princess led;
Saul, the high-priest, and Samuel, here they
leave,

Who, as they part, their weighty blessings give.
Her vail is now put on; and at the gate
The thirty youths and thirty virgins wait
With golden lamps,bright as the flames they bore,
To light the nuptial-pomp and march before;
The rest bring home in state the happy pair,
To that last scene of bliss, and leave them there
All those free joys insatiably to prove,
With which rich Beauty feasts the glutton Love.
"But scarce, alas! the first seven days were
past,

In which the public nuptial triumphs last,
When Saul this new alliance did repent
(Such subtle cares his jealous thoughts torment!)
He envy'd the good work himself had done;
Fear'd David less his servant than his son.
No longer his wild wrath could he command;
He seeks to stain his own imperial hand
In his son's blood; and, that twice cheated too,
With troops and armies does one life pursue.
Said I but one! his thirsty rage extends
To th' lives of all his kindred and his friends!

Ev'n Jonathan had dy'd for being so,
Had not just God put-by th' unnatural blow.
"You see, sir, the true cause which brings us
here:

No sullen discontent, or groundless fear;
No guilty act or end calls us from home;
Only to breathe in peace awhile we come;
Ready to serve, and in mean space to pray
For you, who us receive, and him who, drives
away."

THE DAVIDEIS. BOOK IV.

THE ARGUMENT.

Moab carries his guest to hunt at Nebo; in the way falls into discourse with David, and desires to know of him the reasons of the change of government in Israel; how Saul came to the crown, and the story of him and Jonathan. David's speech, containing the state of the commonwealth under the Judges; the motives for which the people desired a king; their deputies' speech to Samuel upon that subject, and his reply. The assembling of the people at the tabernacle, to inquire God's pleasure. God's speech. The character of Saul; his anointing by Samuel, and election by lot; the defection of his people. The war of Nahash king of Ammon against JabeshGilead; Saul and Jonathan's relieving of the town. Jonathan's character; his single fight with Nahash, whom he slays, and defeats his army. The confirmation of Saul's kingdom at Gilgal, and the manner of Samuel's quitting his office of judge. The war with the Philistines at Macmas: their strength, and the weakness of Saul's forces; his exercising of the priestly function, and the judgment denounced by Samuel against him. Jonathan's discourse with his esquire; their falling alone upon the enemy's out-guards at Senes, and after upon the whole army; the wonderful defeat of it. Saul's rash vow, by which Jonathan is to be put to death, but is saved by the people.

Since last night's story, and with greedier ear The man, of whom so much he heard, did hear. The well-born youth of all his flourishing court March gay behind, and joyful, to the sport; Some arm'd with bows, some with straight javelins, ride;

Rich swords and gilded quivers grace their side. 'Midst the fair troop David's tall brethren rode, And Joab, comely as a fancied god;

They entertain'd th' attentive Moab lords
With loose and various talk that chance affords,
Whilst they pac'd slowly on; but the wise king
Did David's tongue to weightier subjects bring.
"Much," said the king, "much I to Joab owe,
For the fair picture drawn by him of you;
'Twas drawn in little, but did acts express
So great, that largest histories are less.
I see, methinks, the Gathian monster still;
His shape last night my mindful dreams did fill.
Strange tyrant, Saul, with envy to pursue
The praise of deeds whence his own safety grew!
I've heard (but who can think it?) that his son
Has his life's hazard for your friendship run;
His matchless son, whose worth (if fame be true)
Lifts him 'bove all his countrymen but you,
With whom it makes him one." Low David
bows,

But no reply Moab's swift tongue allows.
"And pray, kind guest! whilst we ride thus,"
says he,

"(To gameful Nebo still three leagues there be) The story of your royal friend relate, And his ungovern'd sire's imperious fate; Why your great state that nameless family chose,

And by what steps to Israel's throne they

rose."

He said and David thus:" From Egypt's land
You've heard, sir, by what strong unarmed hand
Our fathers came, Moses their sacred guide;
But he in sight of the given country dy'd:
His fatal promis'd Canaan was on high,
And Joshua's sword must the active rod supply:
It did so, and did wonders.

From sacred Jordan to the Western main,
From well-clad Libanus to the Southern plain
Of naked sands his winged conquest went :
And thirty kings to Hell uncrown'd he sent
Almost four hundred years, from him to Saul,
In too much freedom past, or foreign thrall.
Oft strangers' iron sceptres bruis'd the land,

THOUGH state and kind discourse thus robb'd (Such still are those borne by a conquering hand)

the night

Of half her natural and more just delight,
Moab (whom temperance did still vigorous keep,
And regal cares had us'd to moderate sleep)
Up with the Sun arose; and, having thrice
With lifted hands bow'd towards his shining rise,
And thrice tow'rds Phegor,his Baal's holiest hill,
(With good and pious prayers, directed ill)
Call'd to the chase his friends, who for him
stay'd;

The glad dogs bark'd, the cheerful horses neigh'd.
Moab his chariot mounts, drawn by four steeds,
The best and noblest that fresh Zerith breeds,
All white as snow, and spriteful as the light,
With scarlet trapt, and foaming gold they bite.
He into it young David with him took,
Did with respect and wonder on him look

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Robbery the field, Oppression sack'd the town; What the sword's reaping spar'd, was glean'd by th' gown.

At courts and seats of justice to complain,
Was to be robb'd more vexingly again.
Nor was their lust less active or less bold,
Amidst this rougher search of blood and gold;
Weak beauties they corrupt, and force the
strong;

The pride of old men that, and this of young. You 'ave heard perhaps, sir, of lew'd Gibeah's shame,

Which Hebrew tongues still tremble when they
Alarmed all by one fair stranger's eyes, [name:
As to a sudden war, the town does rise,
Shaking and pale, half-dead ere they begin
The strange and wanton tragedy of their sin :
All their wild lusts they force her to sustain,
Till by shame, sorrow, weariness, and pain,
She mids't their loath'd and cruel kindness dies;
Of monstrous Lust the innocent sacrifice.
This did, 'tis true, a civil war create
(The frequent curse of our loose govern'd state);
All Gibeah's, and all Jabesh' blood it cost;
Near a whole tribe, and future kings, we lost.
Firm in this general earthquake of the land,
How could religion, its main pillar, stand?
Proud and fond man his Father's worship hates,
Himself, God's creature, his own god creates !
Hence in each household several deities grew,
And when no old one pleas'd they fram'd a new:
The only land which serv'd but one before,
Did th' only then all nations' gods adore.
They serv'd their gods at first, and soon their
kings,

(Their choice of that this latter slavery brings) Till special men, arm'd with God's warrant, broke

By justest force th' unjustly-forced yoke;
All matchless persons, and thrice worthy they
Of power more great, or lands more apt t' obey.
At last the priesthood join'd, in Ithamar's son,
More weight and lustre to the sceptre won;
But, whilst mild Eli and good Samuel were
Busied with age, and th' altar's sacred care,
To their wild sons they their high charge commnit,
Who expose to scorn and hate both them and
it.

Eli's curs'd house th' exemplar vengeance bears
Of all their blood, and all sad Israel's tears;
His sons abroad, himself at home, lies slain;
Israel's captiv'd, God's ark and law are ta'en.
Thus twice are nations by ill princes vex'd,
They suffer by them first, and for them next.
Samuel succeeds;-since Moses, none before
So much of God in his bright bosom bore.
In vain our arms Philistian tyrants seiz'd;
Heaven's magazines he open'd when he pleas'd :
He rains and winds for auxiliaries brought;
He muster'd flames and thunders when he fought.
Thus thirty years with strong and steady hand
He held th' unshaken balance of the land;
At last his sons th' indulgent father chose
To share that state which they were born to

lose:

Their hateful acts that change's birth did haste, Which had long growth i' th' womb of ages past. To this (for still were some great periods set, There's a strong knot of several causes met)

The threats concurr'd of a rough neighbouring

war;

A mighty storm long gathering from afar;
For Ammon, heighten'd with mix'd nations' aid,
Like torrents swoln with rain, prepar'd the land
t' invade.

Samuel was old, and, by his sons' ill choice,
Turn'd dotard in th' unskilful vulgar's voice;
His sons so scorn'd and hated, that the land
Nor hop'd, nor wish'd, a victory from their hand,
These were the just and faultless causes why
The general voice did for a monarch cry;
But God ill graius did in this incense smell;
Wrapp'd in fair leaves he saw the canker dwell:
A mutinous itch of change; a dull despair
Of helps divine, oft prov'd; a faithless care
Of common means; the pride of heart and scorn
Of th' humble yoke under low judges borne.
They saw the state and glittering pomp which
In vulgar sense the sceptres of the East; [blest
They saw not power's true source, and scorn'd to
obey

Persons that look'd no dreadfuller than they; They miss'd courts, guards, a gay and numerous train

Our judges, like their laws, were rude andplam:On an old bench of wood, her seat of state Beneath the well-known palm, wise Deborah sate; Her maids with comely diligence round her

spun,

And she too, when the pleadings there were done:
With the same goad Shamgar his oxen drives
Which took, the sun before, six hundred lives
From his sham'd foes: he midst his work dealt
laws;

And oft was his plough stopp'd to hear a cause:
Nor did great Gideon his old flail disdain,
After won fields, sack'd towns, and princes slain
His sceptre that, and Ophra's threshing-foor
The seat and emblem of his justice bore.
What should I Jair, the happiest father, name?
Or mournful Jephtha, known no less to Fame
For the most wretched? Both at once did keep
The mighty flocks of Israel and their sheep.
Oft from the field in haste they summon'd were
Some weighty foreign embassy to hear;

They call'd their slaves, their sons, and friends, around,

Who all at several cares were scatter'd found;
They wash'd their feet, their only gown put on,
And this chief work of ceremony was done.
These reasons, and all else that could be said,
In a ripe hour by factious Eloquence spread
Through all the tribes, make all desire a king;
And to their judge selected deputies bring
This harsh demand; which Nacol for the rest
(A bold and artful mouth) thus with much grace
express'd:-

'We're come, most sacred Judge! to pay the

arrears

Of much-ow'd thanks, for the bright thirty years
Of your just reign; and at your feet to lay
All that our grateful hearts can weakly pay
In unproportion'd words; for you alone
The not unfit reward, who seek for none.
But, when our forepast ills we call to mind,
And sadly think how little 's left behind
Of your important life, whose sudden date
Would disinherit th' unprovided state;

When we consider how unjust 'tis, you,
Who ne'er of power more than the burthen knew,
At once the weight of that and age should have,
(Your stooping days press'd doubly towards the
grave);

When we behold by Ammon's youthful rage,
Proud in th' advantage of your peaceful age,
And all th' united East, our fall conspir'd;
And that your sons, whom chiefly we desir'd
As stamps of you, in your lov'd room to place,
By unlike acts that noble stamp deface;
Midst these new fears and ills we're forc'd to fly
Ta new and yet unpractis'd, remedy :
A new one, but long promis'd, and foretold
By Moses, and to Abraham shown of old;
A prophecy long forming in the womb
Of teeming tears, and now to ripeness come,
This remedy's a king; for this we all
With an inspir'd and zealous union call:
And, in one sound when all men's voices join,
The music's tun'd, no doubt, by hand divine:
'Tis God alone speaks a whole nation's voice;
That is his public language; but the choice
Of what peculiar head that crown must bear,
From you, who his peculiar organ are,
We expect to hear: the people shall to you
Their king, the king his crown and people, owe.
To your great name what lustre will it bring
T have been our judge, and to have made our
king!'

"He bow'd, and ended here; and Samuel straight, Pausing awhile at this great question's weight, With a grave sigh, and with a thoughtful eye, That more of care than passion did descry. Calmly replies—“You 're sure the first,' said he, "Of freeborn men that begg'd for slavery, I fear, my friends, with heavenly manna fed, (Our old forefathers' crime) we lust for bread. Long since by God from bondage drawn, I fear, We build anew th' Egypt an brick-kiln here. Cheat not yourselves with words; for, though a king

Be the mild name, a tyrant is the thing.

Let his power loose, and you shall quickly see
How mild a thing unbounded man will be.
He'll lead you forth your hearts' cheap blood to
spill,

Where'er his guideless passion leads his will:
Ambition, lust, or spleen, his wars will raise;
Your lives' best price his thirst of wealth or praise:
Your ablest sons for his proud guards he 'll take,
And by such hands your yoke more grievous
make:

Your daughters and dear wives he 'll force away;
His luxury some, and some his lust, t' obey,
His idle friends your hungry toils shall eat,
Drink your rich wines, mix'd with your blood
and sweat,

Then you'll all sigh, but sighs will treasons be;
And not your griefs themselves, or looks, be free:
Robb'd ev'n of hopes, when you these ills sus-
tain,

Your watery eyes you 'll then turn back in vain
On your old judges, and perhaps on me,
Nay, ev'n my sons, howe'er they unhappy be
In your displeasure now; not that I'd clear
Their guilt, or mine own innocence endear:
Witness th' unutterable Name, there's nought
Of private ends into this question brought.

But why this yoke on your own necks to draw?
Why man your God, and passion made your law?"
"Methinks" (thus Moab interrupts him here)
"The good old seer 'gainst kings was too severe.
'Tis jest to tell a people that they're free:
Who, or how many, shall their masters be
Is the sole doubt; laws guide, but cannot reign;
And, though they bind not kings, yet they re-
strain.

I dare affirm (so much I trust their love)
That no one Moabite would his speech approve.
But, pray go on.”—“Tis true, sir,” he replies,
"Yet men whom age and action render wise
So much great changes fear, that they believe
All evils will, which may, from them arrive.
On men resolv'd these threats were spent in vain;
All that his power or eloquence could obtain
Was, to inquire God's will ere they proceed
Ta work that would so much his blessing need.
A solemn day for this great work is set,
And at th' anointed tent all Israel met
Expect th' event; below, fair bullocks fry

In hallow'd flames; above, there mount on high
The precious clouds of incense; and, at last,
The sprinkling, prayers, and all due honours,

past,

Lo! we the sacred bells o' th' sudden hear,
And in mild pomp grave Samuel does appear.
His ephod, mitre, well-cut diadem, on;
Th' oraculous stones on his rich breast-plate
shone.

Tow'rds the blue curtains of God's holiest place (The temple's bright third Heaven) he turned his face;

Thrice bow'd he, thrice the solemn music play'd, And at third rest thus the great prophet pray'd:

'Almighty God, to whom all men that be! Owe all they have, yet none so much as we; Who, though thou fill'st the spacious world alone, Thy too-small court, hast made this place thy throne;

With humble knees, and humbler hearts, lo! here, Blest Abraham's seed implores thy gracious ear; Hear them, great God! and thy just will inspire; From thee, their long-known King, they a king

desire.

Some gracious signs of thy good pleasure send; Which lo! with souls resign'd, we humbly here attend."

"He spoke, and thrice he bow'd, and all about Silence and reverend horrour seiz'd the rout; The whole tent shakes, the flames on th' altar by In thick dull rolls mount slow and heavily; The seven lamps wink; aud, what does most dismay,

Th' oraculous gums shut-in their natural day ;
The ruby's cheek grew pale; the emerald by
Faded; a cloud o'ercast the sapphir's sky;
The diamond's eye look'd sleepy; and swift night,
Of all those little suns eclips'd the light :
Sad signs of God's dread anger for our sin :-
But straight a wondrous brightness from within
Strook through the curtains; for no ea: hly
cloud
[shroud;

Could those strong beams of heavenly glory
The altar's fire burn'd pure, and every stone
Their radiant parent, the gay, Sun out-shone;
Beauty th' illustrious vision did impart
To every face, and joy to every heart;

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