The Death of Saul | Page 4

said no son of thine shall reign
O'er Israel!" (_c_)
Yet, heedless of the voice
Of warning which a patient God
vouchsafed,
With disobedience lurking in his heart,
He strove to
shield the King of Amalek--
He whom the Lord commanded him to
kill--
Seizing his flocks and herds for selfish gain
Beneath the garb
of sacrificial faith--
Sin so distasteful to the Lord that Saul
Sat in
the dark displeasure of his God. (_d_)
And out from this displeasure,
like the dawn
From dusky night, the youthful David sprang--
The
Lord's anointed, yea, the Lord's beloved:
Sweet Bard of Bethlehem!
whose harp divine,
Tuned to the throbbings of a guileless heart,

Soothed the dark spirit of the sinful King,
And woke his life to light
and hope again, (_e_)
But ah! the sling and stone his envy roused,

And envy hate begat. 'Tis ever so:
The honest fealty of a noble soul


To all that's brave, and true, and good in life,
Will meet malicious
hindrance. So the King
This brave young bard and warrior of the
Lord
In ruthless persecution sought to kill.
Twice, with a true
nobility of heart
Which to the noble heart alone belongs,
The slayer
of Goliath stayed his hand
When Saul lay at his mercy. "Take thy life;

"Thou art the Lord's anointed, sinful, though,
"And faithless to the

truth as shifting sand!"
Thus David spake, and went his weary way,

An exile from the land he loved so well.
So Saul had steeled his heart
and set his face
Against the living God, and thus he lay
Beneath the
great Jehovah's awful ban.
Episode the Third
SAUL, DESERTED BY THE ALMIGHTY, CONSULTS THE
WITCH
OF ENDOR, AND HIS FALL IS FORETOLD BY THE

SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PROPHET.
As o'er the earth a darkling cloud appears,
And grows in blackness till
the scathing shaft
Comes forth with swelling thunder, so the cloud,

Black unto bursting with the wrath divine,
Hung o'er the head of
Israel's erring King.
The light of heavenly faith from him was gone,

And life was full of dreary, dark despair.
Outstretched along the
plains of Shunem lay
The army of the heathen Philistines--(_f_)
A
countless horde, at whose relentless head
Achish, the King of Gath,
with stern acclaim
Breathed war against the Israelitish host.

Heedless of help from God, the wretched Saul
Had called his tribes
together, and they swarmed
Along the plains of Gilboa, whence they
saw
The mighty army of their heathen foe
Lie like a drowsy panther
in its lair
With limbs all wakeful for the hungry leap.
"Enquire me
of the Lord!" the King had said,
Communing with the doubtings of
his heart.
But answer came not. Dreams were dumb and dark--

Unfathomed mysteries. No Urim spake;
And Prophets wore the
silence of the grave.
So Saul, the King, disheartened and disguised,

Went forth at night.(_g_) The rival armies lay
Sleeping beneath the
darksome dome of Heaven,
And all was still, save when the ghostly
wind
Swept o'er the plains with melancholy moan.
That night the
shadowy shape of one long dead
Stood face-to-face with Saul, in
lonely cave,
The Witch of Endor's haunt. Ah, me--the fall!
To
degradation deep that man hath slid

Who 'gainst the Lord in
stiff-necked folly strives
Choosing the path of cabalistic wiles--
The

dark and turbid garniture of toads,
And philters rank of necromantic
knaves--
Who spurns the hand which, by the light of Heaven,

Points clear and straight along the spacious road
Which angel feet
have trod. Ah, me--the fall!
And sad the fate of him who shuns the
truth:
Who, like the lonely Saul, eschews the light,
And leagues
with darkness--listening for the voice
Of angels in abodes where
devils dwell.
So the dead Prophet and the erring King,
By Heaven's
own will, not by the witch's craft,
Confront each other in the dark
retreat.
The dreamy shadow speaks: "Wherefore," it saith,
"Dost
thou disquiet me!" (_h_) And from the earth
Came the sepulchral
tones, which, floating up,
Joined the weird meanings of the hollow
wind,
And swept in ghostly cadences away
Like exiled souls in
pain. And Saul replied;
"I'm sore distressed: Alas! the living God

"Averts His face and answers me no more;
"What"--and the pleading
voice, in trembling tones
That might have won a stony heart to tears,

Asks of the shadowy shape--"What shall I do!"
And hollow voices
seem to echo back
The anguish-freighted words--"What shall I do!"

'Twas hell's own mockery! The blistering heat--
Like burning blast,
hot and invisible--
That scorched the heart of Saul, was but the breath

Of Satan, gloating o'er the moral death
Of him who, chosen of
Jehovah, lay
A victim to those foul Satanic wiles
Which the sworn
enemy of God had planned
In inmost hate. "I cannot scale the height

"Of Him 'gainst whom eternal enmity
"I've sworn," it seemed to
say: "but--soothing thought!
"Deep in the hearts of mortals _He_ hath
named
"To do His bidding, will I thrust my darts,
"And through
their wounds, as His ambassadors,
"The spirit bruise of Him who sent
them--thus!"
And then again, as though his breaking heart
Were
cleft with red-hot blade, the voice of Saul
Is heard in mortal anguish
breathing out
The soul-subduing tones--"What shall I do?"
Dead
silence intervenes; and then again
The spirit of the Prophet slowly
speaks:
"To-morrow thou and thine," it faintly said,
"Shalt be with
me; and Israel's mighty host
"Shall be the captives of the heathen
foe!"
The