The Death of Saul

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Death of Saul and other
Eisteddfod Prize Poems and Miscellaneous Verses, by J. C. Manning
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Title: The Death of Saul and other Eisteddfod Prize Poems and
Miscellaneous Verses
Author: J. C. Manning
Release Date: March 15, 2007 [EBook #20764]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
0. START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH OF
SAUL AND OTHERS ***
Produced by Al Haines
THE DEATH OF SAUL:
AND OTHER
EISTEDDFOD PRIZE POEMS
AND
MISCELLANEOUS VERSES.
BY
J. C. MANNING

(CARL MORGANWG.
SWANSEA:
J. C. MANNING, 9, CASTLE STREET.
AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.
PRICE SIX SHILLINGS.
1877.
DEATH OF SAUL
AND
OTHER POEMS.
THE EISTEDDFOD COMMITTEE
AND THE
"DEATH OF SAUL."
Being restricted by the Wrexham Eisteddfod Committee to 200 lines, I
was obliged to lop away from the bulk of the following poem just
sufficient for their requirements. I have always declaimed, from a
physical point of view, against the pernicious influence of light-lacing,
and this being so, it was not likely I could go at once and mentally
encase my delicate muse, for a permanency, in a straight waistcoat, at
the behest of any committee in the world. What would she have
thought of me? If, therefore, the committee, or any member of it,
should by chance observe that the "Death of Saul," as I now produce it,
is of a more comprehensive character than the "Death of Saul" for
which they were good enough to award me the first prize, they will see
the poem without the temporary stays in which I was necessitated to
encase it in order to make it acceptable to them and their restrictive
tastes. To squeeze a poem of nearly 400 lines into the dimensions of
one of 200, is, in my opinion, an achievement worthy of a prize in itself;

and as half of the original had a gold medal awarded to it, the whole of
it, I should think, ought to be worth two. I trust Eisteddfod committees,
when they contemplate putting the curb upon us poor poets, will think
of the Wrexham National Eisteddfod, and how half the "Death of Saul"
took a first prize.
TO THE PUBLIC.
Let the bright sun of Approbation shine
In warmth upon the humble
rhymester's line,
And, like the lark that flutters tow'rds the light,
He
spreads his pinions for a loftier flight.
The chilling frowns of critics
may retard,
But cannot kill, the ardour of the Bard,
For, gaining
wisdom by experience taught,
As grass grows strong from wounds by
mowers wrought,
Success will come the Poet's fears to assuage,

Crowning his hopes with Poesy's perfect page.
PREFACE.
The verses which make up this volume have been written at intervals,
and under the most varied and chequered circumstances, extending
over a period of five-and-twenty years. If, therefore, they bear upon
their surface variety of sentiment and incongruity of feeling, that fact
will explain it. I am fully aware that some of the pieces are unequal in
merit from a purely artistic point of view, but I have felt that my
audience will be varied in its composition, and hence the introduction
of variety. The tone, however, of the whole work, I believe to be
healthy; and where honest maxims, combined with homely metaphor,
are found to take the place of high constructive art, they will, I know,
be excused by votaries of the latter, for the sake of those whose hearts
and instincts are much more sensitive to homely appeals than to the
charms of mere artistic effect. The pieces have all been written,
together with many other effusions, at such leisure moments as have
been accorded to one who, during the whole time of their composition,
has had to apply himself, almost without cessation, to the performance
of newspaper press duties; and those who know anything about such
things need not be told that a taste for versification is, to a press-man,
as a rule, what poverty is to most people--a very inconvenient and by

no means a profitable companion. In my own case, however, the
inconvenience has been a pleasure, and I have no reason to find fault as
to profit. From the fitful excitement of journalistic duties I have turned
to "making poetry," as Spenser defines the art, as a jaded spirit looks
for rest, and have always felt refreshed after it. My only hope in
connection with the poetry I have thus made is, that those who may
incline to read what I have written will take as much pleasure in