Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets Part 60

DAVIDEIS.

BOOK II.

THE CONTENTS.

The friendship betwixt Jonathan and David; and, upon that occasion, a digression concerning the nature of love. A discourse between Jonathan and David, upon which the latter absents himself from court, and the former goes thither to inform himself of Saul's resolution.

The feast of the New-moon; the manner of the celebration of it; and therein a digression of the history of Abraham. Saul's speech upon David's absence from the feast, and his anger against Jonathan.

David's resolution to fly away. He parts with Jonathan, and falls asleep under a tree. A description of Fancy. An angel makes up a vision in David's head. The vision itself; which is a prophecy of all the succession of his race, till Christ's time, with their most remarkable actions. At his awaking, Gabriel a.s.sumes a human shape, and confirms to him the truth of his vision.

But now the early birds began to call The morning forth; up rose the sun and Saul: Both, as men thought, rose fresh from sweet repose; But both, alas! from restless labours rose: For in Saul's breast Envy, the toilsome sin, Had all that night active and tyrannous been: She expelled all forms of kindness, virtue, grace, Of the past day no footstep left, or trace; The new-blown sparks of his old rage appear, Nor could his love dwell longer with his fear.

So near a storm wise David would not stay, Nor trust the glittering of a faithless day: He saw the sun call in his beams apace, And angry clouds march up into their place: The sea itself smooths his rough brow awhile, Flatt'ring the greedy merchant with a smile; But he whose shipwrecked bark it drank before, Sees the deceit, and knows it would have more.

Such is the sea, and such was Saul; But Jonathan his son, and only good, Was gentle as fair Jordan's useful flood; Whose innocent stream, as it in silence goes, Fresh honours and a sudden spring bestows On both his banks, to every flower and tree; The manner how lies hid, the effect we see: But more than all, more than himself, he loved The man whose worth his father's hatred moved; For when the n.o.ble youth at Dammin stood, Adorned with sweat, and painted gay with blood, Jonathan pierced him through with greedy eye, And understood the future majesty Then destined in the glories of his look: He saw, and straight was with amazement strook, To see the strength, the feature, and the grace Of his young limbs; he saw his comely face, Where love and reverence so well-mingled were, And head, already crowned with golden hair: He saw what mildness his bold sp'rit did tame, Gentler than light, yet powerful as a flame: He saw his valour by their safety proved; He saw all this, and as he saw, he loved.

What art thou, Love! thou great mysterious thing?

From what hid stock does thy strange nature spring?

'Tis thou that movst the world through every part, And holdst the vast frame close, that nothing start From the due place and office first ordained; By thee were all things made, and are sustained.

Sometimes we see thee fully, and can say From hence thou tookst thy rise, and wentst that way; But oftener the short beams of Reason's eye See only there thou art, not how, nor why.

How is the loadstone, Nature's subtle pride, By the rude iron woo'd, and made a bride?

How was the weapon wounded? what hid flame The strong and conquering metal overcame?

Love (this world's grace) exalts his natural state; He feels thee, Love! and feels no more his weight.

Ye learned heads whom ivy garlands grace, Why does that twining plant the oak embrace?

The oak, for courtship most of all unfit, And rough as are the winds that fight with it.

How does the absent pole the needle move?

How does his cold and ice beget hot love?

Which are the wings of lightness to ascend?

Or why does weight to the centre downwards bend?

Thus creatures void of life obey thy laws, And seldom we, they never, know the cause.

In thy large state, life gives the next degree, Where sense and good apparent places thee; But thy chief palace is man's heart alone; Here are thy triumphs and full glories shown: Handsome desires, and rest, about thee flee, Union, inheritance, zeal, and ecstasy, With thousand joys, cl.u.s.ter around thine head, O'er which a gall-less dove her wings does spread: A gentle lamb, purer and whiter far Than consciences of thine own martyrs are, Lies at thy feet; and thy right hand does hold The mystic sceptre of a cross of gold.

Thus dost thou sit (like men, ere sin had framed A guilty blush) naked, but not ashamed.

What cause, then, did the fab'lous ancients find, When first their superst.i.tion made thee blind?

'Twas they, alas! 'twas they who could not see, When they mistook that monster, l.u.s.t, for thee.

Thou art a bright, but not consuming, flame; Such in the amazed bush to Moses came, When that, secure, its new-crown'd head did rear, And chid the trembling branches' needless fear; Thy darts are healthful gold, and downwards fall, Soft as the feathers that they are fletched withal.

Such, and no other, were those secret darts Which sweetly touched this n.o.blest pair of hearts: Still to one end they both so justly drew, As courteous doves together yoked would do: No weight of birth did on one side prevail; Two twins less even lie in Nature's scale: They mingled fates, and both in each did share; They both were servants, they both princes were.

If any joy to one of them was sent, It was most his to whom it least was meant; And Fortune's malice betwixt both was cross'd, For striking one, it wounded the other most.

Never did marriage such true union find, Or men's desires with so glad violence bind; For there is still some tincture left of sin, And still the s.e.x will needs be stealing in.

Those joys are full of dross, and thicker far; These, without matter, clear and liquid are.

Such sacred love does heaven's bright spirits fill, Where love is but to understand and will, With swift and unseen motions such as we Somewhat express in heighten'd charity.

O ye bless'd One! whose love on earth became So pure, that still in heaven 'tis but the same!

There now ye sit, and with mix'd souls embrace, Gazing upon great Love's mysterious face, And pity this base world, where friendship's made A bait for sin, or else at best a trade.

Ah, wondrous prince! who a true friend couldst be When a crown flatter'd, and Saul threaten'd thee!

Who held'st him dear whose stars thy birth did cross, And bought'st him n.o.bly at a kingdom's loss!

Israel's bright sceptre far less glory brings, There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.

To this strong pitch their high affections flew, Till Nature's self scarce looked on them as two.

Hither flies David for advice and aid, As swift as love and danger could persuade; As safe in Jonathan's trust his thoughts remain, As when himself but dreams them o'er again.

'My dearest lord! farewell,' said he, 'farewell; Heaven bless the King; may no misfortune tell The injustice of his hate when I am dead: They're coming now; perhaps my guiltless head Here, in your sight, must then a-bleeding lie, And scarce your own stand safe for being nigh.

Think me not scared with death, howe'er 't appear; I know thou canst not think so: it is a fear From which thy love and Dammin speaks me free; I've met him face to face, and ne'er could see One terror in his looks to make me fly When virtue bids me stand; but I would die So as becomes my life, so as may prove Saul's malice, and at least excuse your love.'

He stopped, and spoke some pa.s.sion with his eyes.

'Excellent friend!' the gallant prince replies; 'Thou hast so proved thy virtues, that they're known To all good men, more than to each his own.

Who lives in Israel that can doubtful be Of thy great actions? for he lives by thee.

Such is thy valour, and thy vast success, That all things but thy loyalty are less; And should my father at thy ruin aim, 'Twould wound as much his safety as his fame.

Think them not coming, then, to slay thee here, But doubt mishaps as little as you fear; For, by thy loving G.o.d, whoe'er design Against thy life, must strike at it through mine, But I my royal father must acquit From such base guilt, or the low thought of it.

Think on his softness, when from death he freed The faithless king of Am'lek's cursed seed; Can he t' a friend, t' a son, so b.l.o.o.d.y grow, He who even sinned but now to spare a foe?

Admit he could; but with what strength or art Could he so long close and seal up his heart?

Such counsels jealous of themselves become, And dare not fix without consent of some; Few men so boldly ill great sins to do, Till licensed and approved by others too.

No more (believe it) could he hide this from me, Than I, had he discovered it, from thee.'

Here they embraces join, and almost tears, Till gentle David thus new-proved his fears: 'The praise you pleased, great prince! on me to spend, Was all outspoken, when you styled me friend: That name alone does dangerous glories bring, And gives excuse to the envy of a king.

What did his spear, force, and dark plots, impart But some eternal rancour in his heart?

Still does he glance the fortune of that day When, drowned in his own blood, Goliath lay, And covered half the plain; still hears the sound How that vast monster fell, and strook the around: The dance, and, David his ten thousand slew, Still wound his sickly soul, and still are new.

Great acts t' ambitious princes treason grow, So much they hate that safety which they owe.

Tyrants dread all whom they raise high in place; From the good danger, from the bad disgrace.

They doubt the lords, mistrust the people's hate, Till blood become a principle of state.

Secured not by their guards nor by their right, But still they fear even more than they affright, Pardon me, sir; your father's rough and stern; His will too strong to bend, too proud to learn.

Remember, sir, the honey's deadly sting!

Think on that savage justice of the King, When the same day that saw you do before Things above man, should see you man no more.

'Tis true, the accursed Agag moved his ruth; He pitied his tall limbs and comely youth; Had seen, alas! the proof of Heaven's fierce hate, And feared no mischief from his powerless fate; Remember how the old seer came raging down, And taught him boldly to suspect his crown.

Since then, his pride quakes at the Almighty's rod, Nor dares he love the man beloved by G.o.d.

Hence his deep rage and trembling envy springs; Nothing so wild as jealousy of kings.

Whom should he counsel ask, with whom advise, Who reason and G.o.d's counsel does despise?

Whose headstrong will no law or conscience daunt, Dares he not sin, do you think, without your grant?

Yes, if the truth of our fixed love he knew, He would not doubt, believe it, to kill even you.'

The prince is moved, and straight prepares to find The deep resolves of his grieved father's mind.

The danger now appears, love can soon show it, And force his stubborn piety to know it.

They agree that David should concealed abide, Till his great friend had the Court's temper tried; Till he had Saul's most sacred purpose found, And searched the depth and rancour of his wound.

'Twas the year's seventh-born moon; the solemn feast, That with most noise its sacred mirth express'd.

From opening morn till night shuts in the day, On trumpets and shrill horns the Levites play: Whether by this in mystic type we see The new-year's day of great eternity, When the changed moon shall no more changes make, And scattered death's by trumpets' sound awake; Or that the law be kept in memory still, Given with like noise on Sinai's shining hill; Or that (as some men teach) it did arise From faithful Abram's righteous sacrifice, Who, whilst the ram on Isaac's fire did fry, His horn with joyful tunes stood sounding by; Obscure the cause, but G.o.d his will declared, And all nice knowledge then with ease is spared.

At the third hour Saul to the hallowed tent, 'Midst a large train of priests and courtiers, went; The sacred herd marched proud and softly by, Too fat and gay to think their deaths so nigh.

Hard fate of beasts more innocent than we!

Prey to our luxury and our piety!

Whose guiltless blood on boards and altars spilt, Serves both to make and expiate, too, our guilt!

Three bullocks of free neck, two gilded rams, Two well-washed goats, and fourteen spotless lambs, With the three vital fruits, wine, oil, and bread, (Small fees to Heaven of all by which we're fed) Are offered up: the hallowed flames arise, And faithful prayers mount with them to the skies.

From thence the King to the utmost court is brought, Where heavenly things an inspired prophet taught, And from the sacred tent to his palace gates, With glad kind shouts the a.s.sembly on him waits; The cheerful horns before him loudly play, And fresh-strewed flowers paint his triumphant way.

Thus in slow pace to the palace-hall they go, Rich dressed for solemn luxury and show: Ten pieces of bright tapestry hung the room, The n.o.blest work e'er stretched on Syrian loom, For wealthy Adriel in proud Sidon wrought, And given to Saul when Saul's best gift he sought, The bright-eyed Merab; for that mindful day No ornament so proper seemed as they.

There all old Abram's story you might see, And still some angel bore him company.

His painful but well-guided travels show The fate of all his sons, the church below.

Here beauteous Sarah to great Pharaoh came; He blushed with sudden pa.s.sion, she with shame: Troubled she seemed, and labouring in the strife, 'Twixt her own honour and her husband's life.

Here on a conquering host, that careless lay, Drowned in the joys of their new-gotten prey, The patriarch falls; well-mingled might you see The confused marks of death and luxury.

In the next piece bless'd Salem's mystic king Does sacred presents to the victor bring; Like Him whose type he bears, his rights receives, Strictly requires his due, yet freely gives: Even in his port, his habit, and his face, The mild and great, the priest and prince, had place.

Here all their starry host the heavens display; And, lo! a heavenly youth, more fair than they, Leads Abram forth; points upwards; 'Such,' said he, 'So bright and numberless thy seed shall be.'

Here he with G.o.d a new alliance makes, And in his flesh the marks of homage takes: Here he the three mysterious persons feasts, Well paid with joyful tidings by his guests: Here for the wicked town he prays, and near, Scarce did the wicked town through flames appear: And all his fate, and all his deeds, were wrought, Since he from Ur to Ephron's cave was brought.

But none 'mongst all the forms drew then their eyes Like faithful Abram's righteous sacrifice: The sad old man mounts slowly to the place, With Nature's power triumphant in his face O'er the mind's courage; for, in spite of all, From his swoln eyes resistless waters fall.

The innocent boy his cruel burden bore With smiling looks, and sometimes walked before, And sometimes turned to talk: above was made The altar's fatal pile, and on it laid The hope of mankind: patiently he lay, And did his sire, as he his G.o.d, obey.

The mournful sire lifts up at last the knife, And on one moment's string depends his life, In whose young loins such brooding wonders lie.