And eager on the foaming monsters rushed.
The famish'd lion by his grisly beard,
Enraged, I caught, and smote him to the ground.
The panting monster struggling in my gripe,
Shook terribly his bristling mane, and lash'd
His own gaunt, gory sides; fiercely he ground
His gnashing teeth, and roll'd his starting eyes,
Bloodshot with agony; then with a groan,
That wak'd the echoes of the mountain, died.
Nor did his grim associate 'scape my arm;
Thy servant slew the lion and the bear;
I kill'd them both, and bore their shaggy spoils
In triumph home and shall I fear to meet
The uncircumcised Philistine! No: that God,
Who saved me from the bear's destructive fang,
And hungry lion's jaw, will not he save me
From this idolater?

ETERNAL Justice! in whose awful scale
The event of battle hangs! Eternal Truth'
Whose beam illumines all! Eternal Mercy!
If by thy attributes I may, unblamed,
Address thee; Lord of Glory! hear me now;
Oh teach these hands to war, these arms to fight!
Thou ever-present help in time of need!
Let thy broad mercy, as a shield defend,
And let thine everlasting arm support me!
Strong in thy strength, in thy protection safe.
Then though the heathen rage, I shall not fear.
JEHOVAH, be my buckler! Mighty Lord!
Thou who hast deign'd by humble instruments
To manifest the wonders of thy might,

Be present with me now! 'Tis thine own cause!
Thy wisdom sees events, thy goodness plans
Schemes, baffling our conceptions and 'tis still
Omnipotence which executes the deed
Of high design, though by a feeble arm!
I feel a secret impulse drive me on;
And my soul springs impatient for the fight!
'Tis not the heated spirits, or warm blood
Of sanguine youth, with which my boson burns;
And, though I thirst to meet th' insulting foe,
And pant for glory, 'tis not, witness Heaven,
"Tis not the sinful lust of fading fame,
The perishable praise of mortal man;
His praise I covet whose applause is Life.

*Samson. See Judges xiv.

rangues,

Their cob-web arts, their phrase sophistical,
Their subtle doubts, and all the specious trick
Of selfish cunning labouring for its end.
But since, howe'er protected, death will come,
Why fondly study, with ingenious pains,
To put it off?-To breathe a little longer
Is to defer our fate, but not to shun it."
Small gain! which Wisdom with indifferent eye
Beholds. Why wish to drink the bitter dregs
Of life's exhausted chalice, whose last runnings,
Even at the best, are vapid? Why not die

(If Heaven so will) in manhood's opening bloom,
When all the flush of life is gay about us;

When sprightly youth, with many a new-born joy
Solicits every sense? so may we then
Present a sacrifice, unmeet indeed,

(Ah, how unmeet!) but less unworthy far,

Than the world's leavings; than a worn-out heart,
By vice enfeebled, and by vain desire
Sunk and exhausted!

Where is the mighty man of war, who dares
Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?
What victor king, what general drench'd in blood,
Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?"
What proud credentials does the boaster bring
To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes?
What ruin'd provinces? What slaughter'd realms ?
What heads of heroes, and what hearts of kings,
In battle kill'd, or at his altar slain,
Has he to boast? Is his bright armory
Thick set with spears, and swords and coats of mail
Of vanquish'd nations, by his single arm
Subdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,
So much a wretch, so out of love with life,
To dare the weight of this uplifted spear,
Which never fell innoxious? Yet I swear,
I grudge the glory to his parting soul
To fall by this right hand. Twill sweeten death,
To know he had the honour to contend
With the dread son of Anak. Latest time
From blank oblivion shall retrieve his name
Who dared to perish in unequal fight

With Gath's triumphant champion. Come, ad

vance,

Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald-
Sound for the battle straight.

[Herald sounds the Trumpet.

DAVID.

Behold thy foe.

GOLIATH.

But tell me who of all this numerous host Expects his death from me! Which is the man Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

DAVID.

The election of my sovereign falls on me.

GOLIATH.

On thee! on thee! By Dagon, 'tis too much!
Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!
'Twould move my mirth at any other time:
But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!
And tempt me not too far.

DAVID.

I do defy thee,
Thou foul idolater! Hast thou not scorn'd
The armies of the living God I serve?
By me he will avenge upon thy head
Thy nation's sins and thine. Árm'd with his name,
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe
That ever bath d his hostile spear in blood,
GOLIATH (Ironically.)

Indeed! 'tis wondrous well. Now, by my gods,
The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!
Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,
And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant
warrior!

Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung
Of idle field-flowers? where thy wanton harp,
Thou dainty-finger'd hero? better strike
Its notes lascivious, or the lulling lute
Touch softly, than provoke the trumpet's rage.
I will not stain the honour of my spear
With thy inglorious blood. Shall that fair cheek
Be scarred with wounds unseemly? Rather go
And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids:
To wanton measures dance, and let them braid
The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair;
They for their lost Adonis may mistake
Thy dainty form.

And, like the stedfast polestar, never once From the same fix'd and faithful point declines.

GOLIATH.

The curses of Philistia's gods be on thee!
This fine-drawn speech is meant to lengthen out
That little life thy words pretend to scorn.

DAVID.

Mark us

Ha! say'st thou so? Come on then.
well.
Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and
shield;

In the dread name of Israel's God I come;
The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defy'st!
Yet though no shield I bring, no arms except
These five smooth stones I gather'd from the
brook,

With such a simple sling as shepherds use,-
Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey
To my victorious arm. This day I mean
To make the uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone;
The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts
Shall spread the plains of Elah, till Philistia,
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!
-I dare thee to the trial.

SCENE-The Tent of SAUL.

SAUL (rising from his Couch).

On! that I knew the black and midnight arts
Of wizard sorcery! that I could call
The slumbering spirit from the shades of hell!
Or, like Chaldean sages, could foreknow
The event of things unacted! I might then
Anticipate my fortune. How I'm fallen!
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 withering 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, dismissed him.
"Another shall possess thy throne," he cried:
"A stranger!" This unwelcome prophecy
Has lined my crown, and strewed my couch, with
Each ray of opening merit I discern [thorns.
In friend or foe, distracts my troubled soul,
Lest he should prove my rival. But this morn,
Even 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 deceived me.

ABNER.

King of Israel, hail ! Now thou art king indeed. The youth has conGoliath's dead. [quer❜d :

SAUL.

Oh speak thy tale again, Lest my fond ears deceive me!

Has slain the giant.

ABNER.

SAUL

My glorious champion! My deliverer, welcome!
How shall I speak the swelling gratitude
Of my full heart! or give thee the high praise
Thy gallant deeds deserve!

DAVID.

Then God is gracious still, In spite of my offences! But, good Abner, How was it? Tell me all. Where is my champion ? 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!

ABNER.

Full in the centre of the camp they stood!
The opposing armies ranged 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 opening 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
perceived,

[lodg'd,

And from his well-directed sling quick hurl'd,
With dextrous aim, a stone, which sunk, deep
In the capacious forehead of the foe.
Then with a cry, as loud and terrible
As Lybian 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 rung dreadful thro' the field,
And the firm basis of the solid earth
[gods,
Shook. Chok'd with blood and dust, he curs'd his
And died blaspheming! Straight the victor youth
Drew from its sheath the giant's pond'rous sword,
And from the enormous trunk the gory head
Furious in death he sever'd. The grim visage
Look'd threat'ning still, and still frown'd horribly.

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.

Why this concealment? tell me, valiant David,
Why didst thou hide thy birth and name till now?
DAVID.

O king! I would not aught trom favour claim,
Or on remember'd services presume;
But on the strength of my own actions stand,
Ungrac'd and unsupported.

ABNER.

Well he merits

The honours which await him. Why, O king,
Dost thou delay to bless his doubting heart
With his well-earn'd rewards, thy lovely daughter,
By right of conquest his ?

SAUL (to David).

True: thou hast won her. She shall be thine. Yes, a king's word is past.

DAVID.

O boundless blessing! What! shall she be mine, For whom contending monarch's might renounce Their slighted crowns?

[Sounds of Musical Instruments heard at a distance. Shouting and singing. A grand Procession. Chorus of Hebrew Women.]

SAUL.

How's this? what sounds of joy Salute my ears! What means this needless pomp? This merry sound of tabret and of harp ? What mean these idle instruments of triumph? These women, who in fair procession move Making sweet melody?

B

Let remotest nations know
Proud Goliath's overthrow.
Fall'n, Philistia, is thy trust,
Dagon mingles with the dust!
Who fears the Lord of Glory, need not fear
The brazen armour, or the lifted spear.

See, the routed squadrons fly!
Hark! their clamours rend the sky!
Blood and carnage stain the field!
See, the vanquish'd nations yield!
Dismay and terror fill the frighten'd land,
While conq'ring David routs the trembling band.

Lo! upon the tented field

Royal Saul has thousands kill'd!
Lo! upon the ensanguin'd plain
David has ten thousands slain !

Let mighty Saul his vanquish'd thousands tell,
While tenfold triumphs David's victories swell.