The Death of Saul and other Eisteddfod Prize Poems and Miscellaneous Verses
J >>
J. C. Manning >> The Death of Saul and other Eisteddfod Prize Poems and Miscellaneous Verses
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 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 reading as I have taken in writing it, and that the result
to myself will be a justification for having published the work, to be
found only in that public appreciation which I hope to obtain,
SWANSEA.----J. C. MANNING.
CONTENTS.
To the Public
Preface
Dedication
The Wrexham Eisteddfod and the "Death of Saul"
Historical Note
DEATH OF SAUL
Episode the First
Episode the Second
Episode the Third
Episode the Fourth
Palm Sunday in Wales
Elegy on the late Crawshay Bailey, Esq.
Nash Vaughan Edwardes Vaughan; a Monody
Monody on the Death of Mrs. Nicholl Carne
Elegiac Stanzas on the Death of Mrs. Grenfell
In Dreams
Mewn Cof Anwyl: on the Death of John Johnes, Esq., of Dolaucothy
Elegiac
In Memoriam
To Clara
E.H.R.
A.R.
Venus and Astery
To a Royal Mourner
Beautiful Wales
Gwalia Deg
The Welsh Language: to Caradawc, of Abergavenny
Englyn i'r Iath Gymraeg
A Foolish Bird
I'd Choose to be a Nightingale: to Mary (Llandovery)
True Philanthropy: to J. D. Llewellyn, Esq., Penllergare
Disraeli
Down in the Dark: the Ferndale Explosion
DAISY MAY:--Part the First
Part the Second
Part the Third
Lines, accompanying a Purse
Forsaken
Christmas is Coming
Heart Links
The Oak to the Ivy
Epigram on a Welshwoman's Hat
Shadows in the Fire
The Belfry Old
Beautiful Barbara
Song of the Silken Shroud
A University for Wales
Griefs Untold
I Will
Dawn and Death
Castles in the Air
The Withered Rose
Wrecks of Life
Eleanor
New Year's Bells
The Vase and the Weed
A Riddle
To a Fly Burned by a Gaslight
To a Friend
Retribution
The Three Graces
The Last Rose of Summer
The Starling and the Goose
The Heroes of Alma
A Kind Word, a Smile, or a Kiss
Dear Mother, I'm Thinking of Thee
The Heron and the Weather-Vane
The Three Mirrors
The Two Clocks
Sacrifical: on the Execution of Two Greek Sailors at Swansea
Wales to "Punch"
Welcome!
Change
False as Fair
Heads and Hearts
Fall of Sebastopol
To Lord Derby
Unrequited
The Household Spirit
Had I a Heart
A Bridal Simile
Song
I would my Love
Death in Life
Song of the Strike
Nature's Heroes: the Rhondda Valley Disaster
Elegy on the Death of a Little Child
Magdalene
Love Walks with Humanity Yet
The Two Trees
Stanzas
Verses, written after Reading a Biography of His Grace the
Duke of Beaufort
A Simile
The Two Sparrows
Floating Away
A Floral Fable
Ring Down the Curtain
The Telegraph Post
Breaking on the Shore
Hurrah! for the Rifle Corps
Be Careful when you Find a Friend
Brotherly Love
England and France
Against the Stream
Wrecked in Sight of Home
Sonnet
Sebastopol is Won
Hold Your Tongue
My Mother's Portrait
Never More
Lines on the Death of the Rev. Canon Jenkins, Vicar of Aberdare
Filial Ingratitude
The Vine and the Sunflower
POETIC PROVERBS:
I.--Danger in Surety
II.--A Wise Son
III.--Hope Deferred
IV.--Virtue's Crown
V.--Sorrow in Mirth
Christmas Anticipations
Golden Tresses
Hope for the Best
Gone Before
Henry Bath: Died October 14th, 1864
Song of the Worker
The Brooklet's Ambition
St. Valentine's Eve
Lost
Lilybell
Gone
Life Dreams
Aeolus and Aurora; or, the Music of the Gods
Sonnet
Sleeping in the Snow
With the Rain
Ode, on the Death of a Friend
Lines: to a Young Lady who had jilted her Lover
Vicarious Martyrs: to a Hen-pecked Schoolmaster
Stanzas: on seeing Lady Noel Byron
To Louisa
The Orator and the Cask
The Maid of the War
Impromptu: on being asked by a Lady to write a Verse in her Album
Mary: a Monody
On the Marriage of Miss Nicholl Carne
Impromptu: on the Death of Mr. Thomas Kneath, a well-known
Teacher of Navigation, at Swansea
EXTRACTS FROM UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPT:
Humility Oppressed
Upward Strivings
Truthfulness
Love's Influence
Value of Adversity
Misguiding Appearances
Virgin Purity
Man's Destiny
Love's Incongruities
Retribution
Love's Mutability
A Mother's Advice
Sunrise in the Country
Faith in Love
Unrequited Affection
The Poet's Troubles
Echoes from the City
Love's Wiles
Hazard in Love
A Mother's Love
"The Shadow of the Cross"
Curates and Colliers: on reading in a Comic Paper absurd
comparisons between the wages of Curates and Colliers
Wanted--a Wife: a Voice from the Ladies
Sympathy
A Fragment
Law versus Theology: on an Eminent County Court Judge
The Broken Model
Impromptu: on an Inveterate Spouter
A Character
Couplet
Pause: on the hesitation of the Czar to Force a Passage of
the Danube, June, 1877
The Test of the Stick
Note: concerning Iuan Wyllt, an Eisteddfod at Neath, and
a First Prize Poem
TO THE
MOST HONOURABLE THE MARQUESS OF BUTE:
WITH A GRATEFUL SENSE OF HIS LORDSHIP'S GENEROUS AND
OTHERWISE DISINTERESTED DESIRE,
IN ACCEPTING THE DEDICATION OF THE WORK,
TO ALONE FURTHER THE VIEWS AND ENCOURAGE THE LITERARY
ASPIRATIONS OF THE WRITER,
THIS VOLUME,
BY HIS LORDSHIP'S PERMISSION,
IS DEDICATED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF RESPECTFUL ADMIRATION OF HIS
TALENT AND WORTH,
BY HIS LORDSHIP'S OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT,
THE AUTHOR.
DEATH OF SAUL.
PRIZE POEM.
WREXHAM NATIONAL EISTEDDFOD, 1876.
"The Vicar of Wrexham delivered his award on the 28 poems in English or
Welsh, on 'The Death of Saul' ('_Marwolaeth Saul_'). The prize 5
pounds 5s. was given by Dr. Williams, Chairman of the Committee, and a
gold medal was given by the Committee. The Vicar said the best
composition was an English poem, signed 'David.' It was written in a
style well adapted to the subject, in language dignified and sonorous,
with not a little of the rhythmic cadence of Paradise Lost. It was
real poetry; suggestive, and at times deeply impressive--the poetry of
thought and culture, not of mere figure and fancy, and it was well
calculated to do honour to its author, and to the National Eisteddfod
of Wales. 'David' was among his fellow-competitors as Saul was amongst
his brethren, higher than any of them from his shoulders upwards, and
to him he awarded the prize which his poem well deserved."
HISTORICAL NOTE.
The design followed out in the succeeding poem has been to touch upon
the leading historical incidents of Saul's career that lead up to and
explain his tragic death on Mount Gilboa. With him, nearly 3,000 years
ago, commenced the Monarchical government of the Israelites, who had
previously been governed by a Theocracy. The Prophet Samuel, who
anointed Saul, was the last of the High Priests or Judges under this
Theocracy, which existed for 800 years, and died out with the
acceptance of Saul, by the Israelites, as "King of all the tribes of
Israel." The incidents touched upon range from the proclamation of
Saul as King, by Samuel (1095 B.C.), to the fall of the hapless Monarch
at the battle of Gilboa, 40 years afterwards.
Death of Saul
As through the waves the freighted argosy
Securely plunges, when the lode star's light
Her path makes clear, and as, when angry clouds
Obscure the guide that leads her on her way,
She strikes the hidden rock and all is lost,
So he of whom I sing--favoured of God,
By disobedience dimmed the light divine
That shone with bright effulgence like the sun,
And sank in sorrow, where he might have soared
Up to the loftiest peak of earthly joy
In sweet foretaste of heavenly joys to come.
Called from his flocks and herds in humble strait
And made to rule a nation; high in Heaven
The great Jehovah lighting up the way;
On earth an upright Judge and Prophet wise
Sent by the Lord to bend his steps aright;
Sons dutiful and true; no speck to mar
The noble grandeur of a proud career;
Yet, from the rays that flickered o'er his path,
Sent for his good, he wove the lightning shaft
That seared his heart, e'en as the stalwart oak,
Soaring in pride of pow'r, falls 'neath the flash,
And lies a prostrate wreck. Like one of old,
Who, wrestling with the orb whose far-off light
Gave beauty to his waxen wings, upsoared
Where angels dared not go, came to his doom,
And fell a molten mass; so, tempting Heaven,
Saul died the death of disobedient Pride
And self-willed Folly--curses of mankind!
Sins against God which wrought the Fall, and sent,
As tempests moan along the listening night,
A wail of mournful sadness drifting down
The annals of the world: unearthly strains!
Cries of eternal souls that know no rest.
Episode the First.
THE ISRAELITES DEMAND A KING, AND SAUL IS GIVEN TO RULE OVER THEM.
"God save the King!" the Israelites exclaimed, (_a_)
When, by the aged Prophet summoned forth
To Mizpeh, all the tribes by lot declared
That Saul should be their ruler. Since they left
The land of Egypt and its galling stripes,
Till then, the only living God had been
Their King and Governor; and Samuel old,
The last of Israel's Judges, when he brought
The man they chose to be their future King,
And said: "Behold the ruler of your choice!"
Told them of loving mercies they for years
Had from the great Jehovah's hand received,
And mourned in sorrowing tones that God their Judge
Should be by them rejected: and they cried
"A King! give us a King--for thou art old (_b_)
"And in those ways thou all thy life hast walked
"Walk not thy sons: lucre their idol is--
"And Judgment is perverted by the bribes
"They take to stifle justice: give us, then,
"A King to judge us. Other nations boast
"Of such a chief--a King, give us a King!"
So Saul became the crowned of Israel--
The first great King of their united tribes.
Episode the Second.
SAUL DISAPPOINTS THE EXPECTATIONS OF JEHOVAH, AND
IS VISITED WITH THE ALMIGHTY'S DISPLEASURE.
Brave is the heart that beats with yearning throb
Tow'rds highest hopes, when, wandering in the vale,
Some snowy Alp gleams forth with flashing crown
Of golden glory in the morning light.
Brave is the heart that lovingly expands
And longs the far-off splendour to embrace.
Thus yearned the heart of Saul, when from his flocks
The Prophet led him forth, and, pointing up
Tow'rds Israel's crown, exclaimed: "See what the Lord
Hath done for thee!" But Saul upon the throne
Grew sorely dazed. Though brave the heart, the brain
Swam in an ecstasy of wildering light--
A helmless boat upon a troubled sea.
Men nursed in gloom can rarely brook the sun;
And many a life to sombre paths inured
The sunshine of Prosperity hath quenched,
As dewdrops glistening on the lowly sward
Like priceless jewels ere the morning breaks,
Melt into space when light and heat abound,
As though they ne'er had been. Relentless fate!
This ruthless law the world's wide ways hath fringed
With wreckage of a host of peerless lives;
And Saul is numbered 'mongst the broken drift.
Saul, though the Lord's anointed, saw not God:
But--curse of life! ingratitude prevailed.
His faith waxed weak as days of trial came:
And when, deserted by his teeming hosts
At Gilgal, he the Prophet's priestly right
In faithless haste assumed, the Prophet cried
"The Lord hath 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 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 wore
The crown of all the tribes of Israel,
A-fire with jewels flashing in the sun
In bitter mockery of his trampled heart.
Noble in mien, yet, with a sorrowing soul,
Anxious his gaze--for in the sweltering surge
Three sons of Saul were battling with the rest;
His first-born, Jonathan; Abinadab;
And Melchi-shua--idols of his life!
Around him like a hurricane of hail
The pinioned shafts with aim unerring sped,
Bearing dark death upon their feathery wings.
The clashing sword its dismal carnage made
As foe met foe; and flashing sparks out-flew
As blade crossed blade with murderous intent.
The outcry rose--"They fly! they fly!" The King
Looked down upon the fray with trembling heart.
The bloody stream along the valley ran,
And chariots swept like eagles on the wind
On deathly mission borne. The conflict fierce
Waxed fiercer--fiercer still; the rain of gore
Wetted the soddened plain, and arrows flew
Thicker and faster through the darkening air.
The barbed spear, flung forth with stalwart arm,
Sped like a whirlwind on its flight of death.
Along the ranks the warrior's clarion call
Inspired to valorous life the struggling hosts,
And shouts of victory from contending hordes
Blended with sorrowing moans of dying men.
"Thy sons, O King!" a breathless herald cried,
Fresh from the carnage, bowing low his head,
Where Saul, heart-weary, watched the dreadful strife
On Gilboa's height. "Thy sons, O mighty King!"
The herald cried, and sank upon the ground
By haste exhausted. Saul, with fitful start,
Upraised the prostrate messenger. "My sons!
"What of them? Speak!" he gasped, with startled look,
"Dead!" moaned the herald, and an echo came,
As though deep down in some sepulchral vault
The word was spoken. From the heart of Saul
That mournful echo came--so sad and low!
"Dead! dead! Ah, woe is me!" he sadly sighed.
"My sons--my best beloved! Woe! Woe--alas!"
And as he spake, e'en while his head, gold-crowned,
Bent low in pain beneath the crushing blow,
An arrow from the foe his armour smote,
And pierced his breast, already rent with grief.
Then stepped with hurried tread a servant forth,
And plucked the arrow from its cruel feast,
Rending his robe to stanch the purple stream.
"Heed not the wound!" exclaimed the King. "Too late!
"Where Heaven smites, men's blows are light indeed."
Then bending o'er his breast his kingly head
He wept aloud: "Rejected of the Lord;
"My sons among the slain; my valorous host
"In bondage of the heathen--let me die!"
So sobbed the King, as down the bloody plain
The chariots of the foe came thundering on;
And horsemen cleft the air in hot array--
A mighty stream of chivalry and life!
The Israelites had fled, and at their heels
The roaring tumult followed like a storm
That rolls from world to world. And through the blast
Of warfare came a weak and wailing voice
Moaning in utter anguish--"Let me die!"
'Twas Saul the Anointed--Israel's fallen King:
Crushed 'neath the hand of an offended God!
"Lo!" cried the King, and raised his tearful eyes,
"The Philistines are near, pierce thou my breast!"
And, turning round, his kingly breast he bared,
Bidding his armour-bearer thrust his sword
Hilt-deep into his heart. "Better to die
"By friendly hand," he cried, "than owe my death
"To yonder hated victors. Quick! Thy sword!
"Thrust deep and quickly!" But the faltering hand
That held the sword fell nerveless. "Mighty King!
"I dare not!" spake the trembling armourer.
"Then by my own I die," exclaimed the King.
And as he spake he poised the glittering blade
Point upward from the earth, and moaning fell
Upon the thirsty steel. The ruddy gush
Came spurting through the armour that he wore,
And steamed in misty vapour to the sky
In voiceless testimony to the truth
Of words once spoken by the living God!
Aghast the faithful armour-bearer stood.
"O, mighty King! I die with thee!" he said,
And, falling on his sword, the blood of both
Commingled, as from ghastly wounds it ran
In trickling streamlets down Mount Gilboa's side. (_i_)
As ebbs and flows the sea with troubled throb
'Twixt shore and shore, or as the thistle-down
Halts in the eddies of the summer wind
In trembling doubt, so do the flickering souls
Of dying men float fearingly between
The earth and unseen worlds that lie beyond.
So hung the life of Saul, whose bitter cup,
Still at his lips, contained its bitterest dregs.
Prostrate he lay, by bloody sword transfixed;
A corpse his pillow; arms extended out,
And body bent in agony of pain,
The flame of life still fluttering at his heart
A waning lamp. He heard the tumult swell.
Bondage was worse than death. "They come! They come!"
He moaned. "Stand ye upon my breast," he said,
To one, a stranger, lingering near the spot,
"And force the gurgling stream back on my heart,
"To quench the life within me. Quick! They come!"
The stranger did the cruel bidding. (_j_) Hark!
"The King!" the foemen cry, and fiercely rusht
Upon the Royal captive, who, till then,
Had lain by them unseen. But while the shout
Swept like a storm along the swelling ranks
The soul of Saul went drifting through the dark,
Like some fair ship with sails and cordage rent,
Out from the stormy trials of his life,
To tempt the terrors of an unknown sea.
And then the cry of lamentation rose
In Israel, and the Hebrew maidens hung
Their speechless harps upon the willow branch,
And mourned the loved and lost unceasingly.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10