He spoke; the heavens seem'd decently to bow,
With all their bright inhabitants; and now
The jocund spheres began again to play,
Again each Spirit sung Halleluia;
Only that Angel was straight gone; even so
(But not so swift) the morning-glories flow
At once from the bright sun, and strike the ground;
So winged lightning the soft air does wound.
Slow Time admires, and knows not what to call
The motion, having no account so small.
So flew this Angel, till to David's bed
He came, and thus his sacred message said:
Awake, young man, hear what thy king has
He swore thy blood should paint this rising morn: Yet to him go securely, when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is your foe, and God your friends: The man who has his God, no aid can lack; And he who bids thee go, will bring thee back."
Up leap'd Jessides, and did round him stare, But could see nought; for nought was left but air: Whilst this great vision labours in his thought, Lo! the short prophecy to' effect is brought: In treacherous haste he's sent for to the king, And with him bid his charmful lyre to bring. The king, they say, lies raging in a fit, Which does no cure but sacred tunes admit ; And true it was, soft music did appease The' obscure fantastic rage of Saul's disease.
Tell me, oh Muse! (for thou, or none, canst tell, The mystic powers that in bless'd numbers dwell; Thou their great nature know'st, nor is it fit This noblest gem of thine own crown to' omit)
Tell me from whence these heavenly charms arise; Teach the dull world to' admire what they despise !
As first a various unform'd hint we find Rise in some godlike poet's fertile mind, Till all the parts and words their places take, And with just marches verse and music make; Such was God's poem, this world's new essay; So wild and rude in its first draught it lay; The' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew, An artless war from thwarting motions grew; Till they to number and fix'd rules were brought By the Eternal Mind's poetic thought.
Water and Air he for the tenor chose,
Earth made the bass, the treble Flame arose;
To the' active moon a quick brisk stroke he gave,
To Saturn's string, a touch more soft and grave.
The motions straight, and round, and swift, and
And short, and long, were mix'd and woven so—
Did in such artful figures smoothly fall-
As made this decent-measured Dance of All.
And this is music: sounds that charm our ears
Are but one dressing that rich science wears.
Though no man hear 't, though no man it rehearse,
Yet will there still be music in my verse;
In this great world so much of it we see,
The lesser, Man, is all o'er harmony;
Storehouse of all proportions! single quire!
Which first God's breath did tunefully inspire!
From hence bless'd music's heavenly charms arise,
From sympathy, which them and man allies.
Thus they our souls, thus they our bodies, win,
Not by their force, but party that's within:
Thus the strange cure, on our spilt blood apply'd,
Sympathy to the distant wound does guide:
Thus, when two brethren-strings are set alike,
To move them both, but one of them we strike:
Thus David's lyre did Saul's wild rage control,
And tuned the harsh disorders of his soul.
WHEN Israel was from bondage led,
Led by the' Almighty's hand
From out a foreign land,
The great sea beheld, and fled;
As men pursued, when that fear past they find,
Stop on some higher ground to look behind,
So, whilst through wondrous ways
The sacred army went,
The waves afar stood up to gaze,
And their own rocks did represent,
Solid as waters are above the firmament.
Old Jordan's waters to their spring
Start back with sudden fright;
The spring, amazed at sight,
Asks what news from sea they bring.
The mountains shook; and to the mountains' side The little hills leap'd round, themselves to hide; As young affrighted lambs,
When they aught dreadful spy,
Run trembling to their helpless dams:
The mighty sea and river, by,
Were glad, for their excuse, to see the hills too fly.
What ail'd the mighty sea to flee?
Or why did Jordan's tide
Back to his fountain glide?
Jordan's tide, what ailed thee?
Why leap'd the hills? why did the mountains shake? What ail'd them, their fix'd natures to forsake?
Fly where thou wilt, O sea!
And Jordan's current cease!
Jordan, there is no need of thee;
For at God's word, whene'er he please,
The rocks shall weep new waters forth instead of these.
the great Musician to his lyre;
And Saul's black rage grew softly to retire;
But Envy's serpent still with him remain'd,
And the wise charmer's healthful voice disdain'd.
The' unthankful king, cured truly of his fit,
Seems to lie drown'd and buried still in it;
From his past madness draws this wicked use,
To sin disguised, and murder with excuse:
For, whilst the fearless youth his cure pursues,
And the soft medicine with kind art renews,
The barbarous patient casts at him his spear
(The usual sceptre that rough hand did bear),
Casts it with violent strength; but into the' room
An arm more strong and sure than his was come;
An Angel, whose unseen and easy might
Put-by the weapon, and misled it right.
How vain man's power is! unless God command,
The weapon disobeys his master's hand;
Happy was now the error of the blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so.
One would have thought, Saul's sudden rage to' have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been:
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his honour now engaged i' the' sin;
A bloody troop of his own guards he sends
(Slaves to his will, and falsely call'd his friends)
To mend his error by a surer blow;
So Saul ordain'd, but God ordain'd not so.
Home flies the Prince, and to his trembling wife
Relates the new-past hazard of his life ;
Which she with decent passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair eyes she loved so well.
Upon their palace' top, beneath a row
Of lemon-trees-which there did proudly grow,
And with bright stores of golden fruit repay
The light they drank from the sun's neighbouring
(A small but artful Paradise) they walk'd, [ray—
And hand in hand sad gentle things they talk'd."
Here Michal first an armed troop espies
(So faithful and so quick are loving eyes!)
Which march'd, and often glister'd, through a wood,
That on right-hand of her fair palace stood; [kill
She saw them; and cry'd out, "They're come to
My dearest lord; Saul's spear pursues thee still.
Behold his wicked guards! haste quickly, fly!
For Heaven's sake, haste! my dear lord, do not
Ah, cruel father! whose ill-natured rage
[die !
Neither thy worth, nor marriage, can assuage!
Will he part those he join'd so late before?
Were the two-hundred foreskins worth no more?
He shall not part us; (then she wept between).
At yonder window thou mayst 'scape unseen;
This hand shall let thee down! stay not, but haste;
'Tis not my use to send thee hence so fast."
"Best of all women!" he replies—and this Scarce spoke, she stops his answer with a kiss ; "Throw not away," said she, "thy precious breath; Thou stay'st too long within the reach of death."
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