With iteration shrill, their slaughter'd sons!
How is the laurel's verdure stain'd with blood,
And soil'd with widow's tears!
Yet when our country's sacred rights are menaced;
Her firm foundations shaken to their base;
When all we love, and all that we revere,
Our hearths and altars, children, parents, wives,
Our liberties and laws, the throne they guard,
Are scorn'd and trampled on-then, then, my father!
"Tis then religion's voice; then God himself
Commands us to defend his injur'd name,
And think the vict'ry cheaply bought with life.
"Twere then inglorious weakness, mean self-love,
To lie inactive, when the stirring voice
Of the shrill trumpet wakes the patriot youth,
And, with heroic valour, bids them dare
The foul idolatrous bands, e'en to the death.
Jes. God and thy country claim the life they gave; No other cause can sanctify resentment.
Dav. Sure virtuous friendship is a noble cause! Oh! were the princely Jonathan in danger, How would I die, well pleas'd, in his defence! When, 'twas long since, then but a stripling boy, I made short sojourn in his father's palace, (At first to soothe his troubled mind with song, His armour-bearer next,) I well remember The gracious bounties of the gallant prince. How would he sit, attentive to my strain, While to my harp I sung the harmless joys Which crown a shepherd's life! How would he cry Bless'd youth! far happier in thy native worth, Far richer in the talent Heaven has lent thee, Than if a crown hung o'er thy anxious brow. The jealous monarch mark'd our growing friendship And as my favour grew with those about him, His royal bounty lessen'd, till at length, For Bethlehem's safer shades I left the court.
Nor would these alter'd features now be known, Grown into manly strength; nor this chang'd form, Enlarg'd with age, and clad in russet weed.
Jes. I have employment for thee, my lov'd son!
Will please thy active spirit. Go, my boy!
Haste to the field of war, to yonder camp,
Where in the vale of Elah mighty Saul
Commands the hosts of Israel. Greet thy brothers:
Observe their deeds, note their demeanour well,
And mark if on their actions wisdom waits.
Bear to them too (for well the waste of war
Will make it needful) such plain healthful viands
As furnish out our frugal shepherd's meal.
And to the valiant captain of their host
Present such rural gifts as suit our fortune:
Heap'd on the board within my tent thou'lt find them.
Dav. With joy I'll bear thy presents to my
brothers;
And to the valiant captain of their host
The rural gifts thy gratitude assigns him.
Delightful task!-for I shall view the camp!
What transport to behold the tented field,
The pointed spear, the blaze of shields and arms,
And all the proud accoutrements of war!
But, oh! far dearer transport would it yield me,
Could this right arm alone avenge
the cause
Of injur'd Israel! could my single death
Preserve the guiltless thousands doom'd to bleed!
Jes. Let not thy youth be dazzled, O my son!
With deeds of bold emprize, as valour only
Were virtue, and the gentle arts of peace,
Of truth, and justice, were not worth thy care.
When thou shalt view the splendours of the war,
The gay caparison, the burnish'd shield,
The plume-crown'd helmet, and the glitt'ring spea
Scorn not the humble virtues of the shade,
Nor think that Heaven views only with applause
The active merit and the busy toil
Of heroes, statesmen, and the bustling sons
Of public care. These have their just reward,
In wealth, in honours, and the well-earn'd fame
Their high achievements bring. 'Tis in this view
That virtue is her proper recompense :
Wealth, as its natural consequence, will flow
From industry toil with success is crown'd:
From splendid actions high renown will spring.
Such is the usual course of human things;
For Wisdom Infinite permits, that thus
Effects to causes be proportionate,
And natural ends by natural means achiev'd.
But in the future estimate which Heaven
Will make of things terrestrial, know, my son,
That no inferior blessing is reserv'd
For the mild passive virtues: meek content,
Heroic self-denial, nobler far
Than all th' achievements noisy fame reports,
When her shrill trump proclaims the proud success
Which desolates the nations. But, on earth,
These are not always prosperous-mark the cause :
Eternal Justice keeps them for the bliss
of final recompense, for the dread day
Of general retribution. O my son !
The ostentatious virtues which still press
For notice and for praise; the brilliant deeds
Which live but in the eye of observation,
These have their meed at once. But there's a joy
To the fond votaries of fame unknown,
To hear the still small voice of conscience speak
Its whisp'ring plaudit to the silent soul.
Heaven notes the sigh afflicted goodness heaves;
Hears the low plaint by human ear unheard,
And from the cheek of patient sorrow wipes
The tear, by mortal eye unseen or scorn'd
Dav. As Hermon's dews their grateful freshness
shed,
And cheer the herbage, and the flowers renew,
So do thy words a quick'ning balm infuse,
And grateful sink in my delighted soul.
Jes. Go then, my child! and may the gracious
God
Who bless'd our fathers, bless my much lov'd son!
Dav. Farewell, my father!--and of this be sure,
That not one precept from thy honoured lips
Shall fall by me unnotic'd; not one grace,
One venerable virtue which adorns
Thy daily life, but I, with watchful care
And due observance, will in mine transplant it.
[Exit DAVID.
Jes. He's gone! and still my aching eyes pursue And strain their orbs still longer to behold him. Oh! who can tell when I may next embrace him? Who can declare the counsels of the Lord? Or when the moment, pre-ordain'd by Heaven To fill his great designs, may come? This son, This blessing of my age, is set apart For high exploits; the chosen instrument Of all-disposing Heav'n for mighty deeds. Still I recall the day, and to my mind The scene is ever present, when the seer, Illustrious Samuel, to the humble shades Of Bethlehem came, pretending sacrifice, To screen his errand from the jealous king. He sanctified us first, me and my sons; For sanctity increas'd should still precede Increase of dignity. When he declar'd He came commission'd from on high, to find, Among the sons of Jesse, Israel's king, Astonishment entranced my wondering soul! Yet was it not a wild tumultuous bliss; Such rash delight as promised honours yield To light vain minds: no, 'twas a doubtful joy, Chastised by tim'rous virtue, lest a gift So splendid and so dang'rous might destroy Him it was meant to raise. My eldest born,
Eliab, tall of stature, I presented;
But God, who judges not by outward form,
But tries the heart, forbade the holy prophet
To chose my eldest born. For Saul, he said,
Gave proof, that fair proportion, and the grace
Of limb or feature, ill repaid the want
Of virtue. All my other sons alike
By Samuel were rejected; till, at last,
On my young boy, on David's chosen head,
The prophet pour'd the consecrated oil.
Yet ne'er did pride elate him, ne'er did scorn
For his rejected elders swell his heart.
Not in such gentle charity to him
His haughtier brothers live; but all he pardons.
To meditation, and to humble toil,
To prayer and praise devoted, here he dwells.
Oh! may the graces which adorn retreat
One day delight a court! record his name
With saints and prophets, dignify his race,
And may the sacred songs his leisure frames
Instruct mankind, and sanctify a world!
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