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DAVID AND GOLIATH:

Sacred Drama.

O bienheureux mille fois,
L'Enfant que le Seigneur aime,
Qui de bonne heure entend sa voix,
Et que ce Dieu daigne instruire lui-même!
Loin du mond élevé; de tous les dons des Cieux,

Il est orné dès sa naissance;
Et du méchant l'abord contagieux

N'altère point son innocence. – ATHALIE. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA,

Saul, King of Israel.
ABNER, his General.
JESSE.
ELIAB, 2
ABINADAB >Sons of Jesse.
David,
Goliath, the Philistine Giant.
Philistines, Israelites, &c. &c.
Chorus of Hebrew Women.

The Scene lies in the Camp in the Valley of Elah, and

the adjacent Plain.

The Subject is taken from the Seventeenth Chapter of the

First Book of Samuel.

DAVID AND GOLIATH.

PART I.

SCENE - A Shepherd's Tent on a Plain.

DAVID, under a spreading tree, plays on his harp and

sings.

1.

GREAT Lord of all things ! Pow'r divine !
Breathe on this erring heart of mine

Thy grace serene and pure;
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth,
The humble are secure !

II. Teach me to bless my lowly lot Confin’d to this paternal cot,

Remote from regal state!
Content to court the cooling glade,
Inhale the breeze, enjoy the shade,
And love my humble fate.

III.
No anxious vigils here I keep,
No dreams of gold distract my sleep,

A

Nor lead my heart astray ;
Nor blasting Envy's tainted gale
Pollutes the pleasures of the vale,
To vex my harmless day.

IV.
Yon tow'r, which rears its head so high,
And bids defiance to the sky,

Invites the hostile winds :
Yon branching oak, extending wide,
Provokes destruction by its pride,
And courts the fall it finds.

V.
Then let me shun th' ambitious deed,
And all the dangerous paths which lead

To honours falsely won :
Lord ! in thy sure protection blest,
Submissive will I ever rest,
And may thy will be done!

[He lays down his harp and rises.

Dav. Methinks this shepherd's life were dull and

tasteless
Without the charm of soothing song or harp:
With it, not undelightful is the haunt .
Of wood, or lonely grove, or russet plain,
Made vocal by the Muse. With this lov'd harp,
This daily solace of my cares, I sooth'd
The melancholy monarch, when he lay
Smit by the chill and spirit-quenching hand
Of black despair. God of my fathers, hear me!
Here I devote my harp, my verse, myself,

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