Thy trembling tongue would stop against thy will.

Then shall thine head fix'd in curst temples be,
And all their foolish gods shall laugh at thee.
That hand, which now on David's life would prey,
Shall then turn just, and its own master slay;
He whom thou hat'st, on thy lov'd throne shall
sit,

And expiate the disgrace thou dost to it.
Haste then; tell David what his king has

sworn,

Tell him whose blood must paint this rising morn;

Yet bid him go securely, when he sends ; 'Tis Saul that is his foe, and We his friends; The man who has his God, no aid can lack, And We, who bid him go, will bring him back."

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 sworn;

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 t' 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
Th' obscure fantastic rage of Saul's disease.

Tell me, oh Muse! (for thou, or none, canst
tell,

The mystic powers that in blest numbers dwell;
Thou their great nature know'st, nor is it fit
This noblest gem of thine own crown t' omit)
Tell me from whence these heavenly charins
arise;
[spise!

Teach the dull world t' admire what they de-
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;
Th' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew,
An artless war from thwarting motions grew;

By the Eternal Mind's poetic thought.
Water and air he for the tenor chose,
Earth made the bass, the treble flame arose :
To th' 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
slow,

And short, and long, were mix'd and woven so-
Did in such artful figures smoothly fall-
As made this decent-measur'd 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 re-
Yet will there still be music in my verse; [hearse
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 blest 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 tun'd the harsh disorders of his soul.

"WHEN Israel was from bondage led,
Led by th' 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 amaz'd at sight,
Asks what news from sea they bring.
The mountains shook; and to the mountains'
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

[side

[fy.

The sacred Muse does here each breast inspire; Heman and sweet-mouth'd Asaph, rule their quire;

Both charming poets; and all strains they play'd,
By artful breath or nimble fingers made.
The synagogue was dress'd with care and cost,
(The only place where that they esteem'd not
lost)

The glittering roof with gold did daze the view,
The sides refresh'd with silks of sacred blue.
Here thrice each day they read their perfect law,
Thrice prayers from willing Heaven a blessing
draw;

Thrice in glad hymns, swell'd with the Great
One's praise,

The pliant voice on her seven steps they raise,
Whilst all th' enliven'd instruments around
To the just feet with various concord sound;
Such things were Muses then, contemn'd low
earth;

Decently proud, and mindful of their birth.
'Twas God himself that here tun'd every tongue;
And gratefully of him alone they sung:
They sung how God spoke-out the world's vast
ball;

From nothing, and from no-where, call'd forth all.

No Nature yet, or piace for 't to possess,
But an unbottom'd gulph of emptiness:
Full of himself, th' Almighty sate, his own
Palace, and, without solitude, alone.
But he was goodness whole, and all things will'd;
Which, ere they were, his active word fulfill'd;
And their astonish'd heads o' th' sudden rear'd;
An unshap'd kind of something first appear'd,
Confessing its new being, and undrest,
As if it stepp'd in haste before the rest.
Yet, buried in this matter's darksome womb,
Lay the rich seeds of every thing to come :
From hence the cheerful flame leap'd up so high;
Close at its heels the nimble air did fly;
Dull Earth with his own weight did downwards
pierce

To the fix'd navel of the universe,
And was quite lost in waters; till God said
To the proud Sea," Shrink-in your insolent head,
See how the gaping Earth has made you place ""
That durst not murmur, but shrunk in apace:
Since when, his bounds are set; at which in
vain

He foams, and rages, and turns back again.
With richer stuff he bade Heaven's fabric shine,
And from him a quick spring of light divine
Swell'd up the Sun, from whence his cherishing
flame

Fills the whole world, like him from whom it

came.

He smooth'd the rough-cast Moon's imperfect mould,

And comb'd her beamy locks with sacred gold; "Be thou," said he, " queen of the mournful night,"

And as he spoke, she arose clad o'er in light, With thousand stars attending on her train; With her they rise, with her they set again. Then herbs peep'd forth, new trees admiring stood,

And smelling flowers painted the infant wood. Then flocks of birds through the glad air did flee, Joyful and safe before man's luxury.

Singing their maker in their untaught lays :
Nay, the mute fish witness no less his praise;
For those he made, and cloth'd with silver scales,
From minnows, to those living islands, whales.
Beasts too were his command: what could he
more?

Yes, man he could, the bond of all before;
In him he all things with strange order hurl'd;
In him, that full abridgment of the world.

This and much more of God's great works they

told;

His mercies, and some judgments too, of old:
How, when all earth was deeply stained in sin,
With an impetuous noise the waves came rush-
ing in:

Where birds crewhile dwelt and securely sung,
There fish (an unknown net) entangled hung:
The face of shipwreck'd Nature naked lay;
The Sun peep'd forth, and beheld nought, but sea,
This men forgot, and burnt in lust again:
Till showers, strange as their sin, of fiery rain
And scalding brimstone, dropp'd on Sodom's
head;

Alive, they felt those flames they fry-in dead.
No better end rash Pharaoh's pride befel,
When wind and sea waged war for Israel :
In his gilt chariots amaz'd fishes sat,
And grew with corpse of wretched princes fat;
The waves and rocks half eaten bodies stain;
Nor was it since call'd the Red Sea in vain,
Much too they told of faithful Abraham's fame,
To whose blest passage they owe still their name:
Of Moses much, and the great seed of Nun,
What wonders they perform'd, what lands they

won;

How many kings they slew, or captive brought; They held the swords, but God and angels fought. Thus gain'd they the wise spending of their days;

And their whole life was their dear Maker's praise.

No minute's rest, no swiftest thought, they sold
To that beloved plague of mankind, gold;
Gold, for which all mankind with greater pains
Labour tow'rds Hell, than those who digs its
veins.

Their wealth was the contempt of it; which

more

They valued than rich fools the shining ore.
The silk worms' precious death they scorned to

wear,

And Tyrian dye appeared but sordid there.
Honour, which since the price of souls became,
Seem'd to these great-ones a low idle name.
Instead of down, hard beds they chose to have,
Such as might bid them not forget their grave,
Their board dispeopled no full element,
Free Nature's bounty thriftily they spent,
And spar'd the stock; nor could their bodies say
We owe this crudeness t' excess yesterday.
Thus souls live cleanly, and no soiling fear,
But entertain their welcome Maker there;
The senses perform nimbly what they 're bid,
And honestly, nor are by Reason chid;
And, when the down of sleep does softly fall,
Their dreams are heavenly then, and mystical ;
With hasty wings time present they outfly,
And tread the doubtful maze of Destiny;
There walk, and sport among the years to come,
And with quick eye pierce every cause's womb.

Thus these wise saints enjoy'd their little all,
Free from the spite of much-mistaken Saul:
For, if man's life we in just balance weigh,
David deserv'd his envy less than they.
Of this retreat the hunted prince makes choice,
Adds to their choir his nobler lyre and voice.
But long unknown ev'n here he could not lie;
So bright his lustre, so quick Envy's eye!
Th' offended troop, whom he escap'd before,
Pursue him here, and fear mistakes no more:
Belov'd revenge fresh rage to them affords;
Some part of him all promise to their swords.
They came, but a new spirit their hearts pos-
sest,

Scattering a sacred calm through every breast:
The furrows of their brow, so rough erewhile,
Sink down into the dimples of a smile :
Their cooler veins swell with a peaceful tide,

And the chaste streams with even current glide;

A sudden day breaks gently through their eyes, And morning blushes in their cheeks arise:

The thoughts of war, of blood, and murder, cease;

In peaceful tunes they adore the God of peace!
New messengers twice more the tyrant sent,
And was twice more mock'd with the same event:
His heighten'd rage no longer brooks delay;
It sends him there himself: but on the way
His foolish anger a wise fury grew,
And blessings from his mouth unbidden flew :
His kingly robes he laid at Naioth down,
Began to understand, and scorn, his crown;
Employ'd his mounting thoughts on nobler
things,

And felt more solid joy than empire brings ; .
Embrac'd his wondering son, and on his head,
The balm of all past wounds, kind tears, he shed.
So covetous Balaam, with a fond intent
Of cursing the blest seed, to Moab went:
But as he went, his fatal tongue to sell,
His ass taught him to speak, God to speak well.
"How comely are thy tents, oh Israel!"
(Thus he began) "what conquest they foretell!
Less fair are orchards in their autumn pride,
Adorn'd with trees on some fair river's side;
Less fair are vallies, their green mantles spread!
Or mountains with tall cedars on their head!
'Twas God himself (thy God who must not fear?)
Brought thee from bondage to be master here.
Slaughter shall wear out these, new weapons
get,

And Death in triumph on thy darts shall sit.
When Judah's lion starts up to his prey,
The beasts shall hang their ears and creep away;
When he lies down the woods shall silence keep,
And dreadful tigers tremble at his sleep.
Thy cursers, Jacob! shall twice cursed be;
And he shall bless himself that blesses thee!"

THE DAVIDEIS. BOOK II.

THE ARGUMENT.

THE friendship betwixt Jonathan and David,

Jonathan and David; upon which the latter absents himself from court, and the former goes thither, to inform himself of Saul's resolution. The feast of the New Moon; the manner of the celebration of it; and therein a digression of the history of Abraham. Saul's speech upon David's absence from the feast, and his anger against Jonathan, David's resolution to fly away; he parts with Jonathan and falls asleep under a tree. A description of Phansy! an angel makes up a vision in David's head; the vision itself, which is, a prophecy of all the succession of his race till Christ's time, with their most remarkable actions. At his awaking, Gabriel assumes a human shape, and confirms to him the truth of his vision.

The morning forth; up rose the Sun and Saul; But now the early birds began to call

Both, as men thought, rose fresh from sweet re

pose;

But, both alas! from restless labours rose :
For in Saul's breast, Envy, the toilsome sin,
Had all that night active and tyrannous been:
She expell'd all forms of kindness, virtue, grace;
Of the past day no footstep left or trace;
The new-blown sparks of his old rage appear,
Nor could his love dwell longer with his fear.
So near a storm wise David would not stay,
Nor trust the glittering of a faithless day;
He saw the Sun call in his beams apace,
And angry clouds march up into their place;
The sea itself smooths his rough brow awhile,
Flattering the greedy merchant with a smile;
But he, whose shipwreck'd bark it drank be-
fore,

Sees the deceit, and knows it would have more.
Such is the sea, and such was Saul.
But Jonathan, his son, and only good,
Was gentle as fair Jordan's useful flood;
Whose innocent stream, as it in silence goes,
Fresh honours and a sudden spring bestows,
On both his banks, to every flower and tree;
The manner how lies hid, th' effect we see.
But more than all, more than himself, he lov'd
The man whose worth his father's hatred mov'd;
For, when the noble youth at Dammin stood,
Adorn'd with sweat, and painted gay with

blood,

Jonathan pierc'd him through with greedy eye,
And understood the future majesty

Then destin'd in the glories of his look;
He saw, and straight was with amazement strook,
To see the strength, the feature, and the grace
Of his young limbs: he saw his comely face,
Where love and reverence so well mingled were;
And head, already crown'd with golden hair :
He saw what mildness his bold spirit did tame,
Gentler than light, yet powerful as a flame:
He saw his valour, by their safety prov'd;
He saw all this, and as he saw, he lov'd.

What art thou, Love! thou great mysterious
thing!

From what hid stock does thy strange nature

spring?

'Tis thou that mov'st the world through every part,

start,