The Death of Saul | Page 4

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 fateful answer smites the listener low,?And utter darkness falls upon his life.
Episode the Fourth.
BATTLE OF GILBOA AND THE DEATH OF SAUL.
The morrow came: the bloody fray began.?The sun shone fierce and hot upon the scene.?Lashed into fury like a raging sea?The wrestling multitude for vantage strove?With deadly chivalry. On Gilboa's mount?The King looked forth and watched the sanguine strife,?Clothed in the golden panoply of war.?Upon his brow the stately monarch