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DAVID AND GOLIATH.

PART V.

SCENE. The Tent of Saul.

SAUL (rising from his couch).

OH! that I knew the black and midnight arts
Of wizard sorcery! that I could call
The slumb'ring spirit from the shades of hell!
Or, like Chaldean sages, could foreknow
Th' event of things unacted! I might then
Anticipate my fortune. How I'm fall'n!
The sport of vain chimeras, the weak slave
Of Fear and Fancy; coveting to know
The arts obscene, which foul diviners use.
Thick blood and moping melancholy lead
To baleful Superstition that fell fiend,
Whose with'ring charms blast the fair bloom of virtue.
Why did my wounded pride with scorn reject
The wholesome truths which holy Samuel told me?
Why drive him from my presence? he might now
Raise my sunk soul, and my benighted mind
Enlighten with religion's cheering ray.

He dar'd to menace me with loss of empire;
And I, for that bold honesty, dismiss'd him.
"Another shall possess thy throne," he cry'd:

"A stranger!" This unwelcome prophecy

Has lin❜d my crown and strew'd my coach with thorns.

Each ray of op'ning merit I discern

In friend or foe, distracts my troubled soul,
Lest he should prove my rival. But this morn,
Een my young champion, lovely as he look'd
In blooming valour, struck me to the soul
With Jealousy's barb'd dart. O Jealousy,
Thou ugliest fiend of hell! thy deadly venom
Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue
Of my fresh cheek to haggard sallowness,
And drinks my spirit up!

[A flourish of trumpets, shouting, &c.
What sounds are those?

The combat is decided. Hark! again,

Those shouts proclaim it! Now, O God of Jacob,
If yet thou hast not quite withdrawn from Saul,
Thy light and favour prosper me this once!
But Abner comes! I dread to hear his tale!

Fair Hope, with smiling face but ling'ring foot,
Has long deceiv'd me.

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King of Israel, hail!

Now thou art King indeed. The youth has conquer'd: Goliath's dead.

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Quick let me press him to my grateful heart,
And pay him a king's thanks. And yet, who knows,
This forward friend may prove an active foe?
No more of that. Tell me the whole, brave Abner!
And paint the glorious acts of my young hero!
Ab. Full in the centre of the camp they stood!
Th' opposing armies rang'd on either side
In proud array. The haughty giant stalk'd,
Stately across the valley. Next, the youth
With modest confidence advanc'd. Nor pomp,
Nor gay parade, nor martial ornament,
His graceful form adorn'd. Goliath straight,
With solemn state, began the busy work
Of dreadful preparation. In one place
His closely jointed mail an op'ning left
For air, and only one: the watchful youth
Mark'd that the beaver of his helm was up.
Meanwhile the giant such a blow devis'd

As would have crush'd him. This the youth per

ceiv'd,

And from his well-directed sling quick hurl'd, With dext'rous aim, a stone, which sunk, deep lodg'd,

In the capacious forehead of the foc.

Then with a cry, as loud and terrible
As Libyan lions roaring for their young,
Quite stunn'd, the furious giant stagger'd, reel'd,
And fell: the mighty mass of man fell prone.
With its own weight his shatter'd bulk was bruis'd.
His clatt'ring arms rang dreadful through the field,
And the firm basis of the solid earth

Shook. Chok'd with blood and dust, he curst his gods,

I

Dav.

O mighty king!

Sweet is the breath of praise when giv'n by those Whose own high merit claims the praise they give. But let not this one prosperous event,

By Heaven directed, be ascrib'd to me:

I might have fought with equal skill and courage,
And not have gain'd this conquest; then had shame,
Harsh obloquy, and foul disgrace befall'n me;
But prosp❜rous fortune gains the praise of valour.

Saul. I like not this. In every thing superior

He soars above me (aside).- Modest youth, thou'rt

right;

And fortune, as thou say'st, deserves the praise
We give to human valour.

Dav.

The God of Hosts deserves it.

Saul.

Rather say

Tell me, youth,

What is thy name, and what thy father's house?

Dav. My name is David; Jesse is my sire:
An humble Bethle'mite of Judah's tribe.

Saul. David, the son of Jesse! sure that name
Has been familiar to me. Nay, thy voice,
Thy form, and features, I remember too,
Though faint and indistinctly.

Ab.

In this hero

Behold thy sweet musician; he whose harp
Expell'd the melancholy fiend, whose pow'r
Enslav'd thy spirit.

Saul.

This the modest youth

Whom for his skill and virtues I preferr'd

To bear my armour?

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