To set the quick jerboa a-musing outside his sand houseThere are none such as he for a wonder, half bird and half mouse! 46 God made all the creatures and gave them our love and our fear, To give sign, we and they are his children, one family here. VII Then I played the help-tune of our reapers, their wine-song, when hand Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good friendship, and great hearts expand 50 And grow one in the sense of this world's life.-And then, the last song When the dead man is praised on his journey-" Bear him along With his few faults shut up like dead flowerets! Are balmseeds not here To console us? The land has none left such as he on the bier. Oh, would we might keep thee, my brother!"-And then, the glad chant 55 Of the marriage,-first go the young maidens, next, she whom we vaunt As the beauty, the pride of our dwelling.-And then, the great march Wherein man runs to man to assist him and buttress an arch Naught can break; who shall harm them, our friends?—Then, the chorus intoned 60 As the Levites go up to the altar in glory enthroned. VIII And I paused, held my breath in such silence, and listened apart; And the tent shook, for mighty Saul shuddered: and sparkles 'gan dart 45. Jerboa. An Old-World rodent animal, remarkable for swift flying leaps, From the jewels that woke in his turban, at once with a start All its lordly male-sapphires, and rubies courageous at heart. So the head: but the body still moved not, still hung there 66 erect. And I bent once again to my playing, pursued it unchecked, As I sang, IX "Oh, our manhood's prime vigor! No spirit feels waste, Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, 70 The strong rending of boughs from the fir tree, the cool silver shock Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the bear, And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair. And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine, And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, the full draught of wine, 75 And the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell That the water was wont to go warbling so softly and well. How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ All the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in joy! Hast thou loved the white locks of thy father, whose sword thou didst guard 80 When he trusted thee forth with the armies, for glorious reward? Didst thou see the thin hands of thy mother, held up as men sung The low song of the nearly departed, and hear her faint tongue 65. Male-sapphire. The ancient sapphire was the same as our lapis-lazuli. 75. Locust-flesh. Sometimes used in Oriental countries for food. 78. How good is man's life, the mere living. This strikes the keynote of the whole stanza, Joining in while it could to the witness, 'Let one more attest, I have lived, seen God's hand thro' a lifetime, and all was for best!' 85 Then they sung thro' their tears in strong triumph, not much, but the rest. And thy brothers, the help and the contest, the working whence grew Such result as, from seething grape-bundles, the spirit strained true: And the friends of thy boyhood-that boyhood of wonder and hope, Present promise and wealth of the future beyond the eye's scope, 90 Till lo, thou art grown to a monarch; a people is thine: combine! On one head, all the beauty and strength, love and rage (like the throe That, a-work in the rock, helps its labor and lets the gold go), High ambition and deeds which surpass it, fame crowning them,-all 95 Brought to blaze on the head of one creature-King Saul!" X And lo, with that leap of my spirit,-heart, hand, harp, and voice, Each lifting Saul's name out of sorrow, each bidding rejoice Saul's fame in the light it was made for-as when, dare I say, The Lord's army, in rapture of service, strains thro' its array, 87. Sympathy and rivalry may exist at the same time between brothers. 93. Throe (Scot. thraw). Pain, agony. 96. In the edition of 1845 the last four lines of this section read thus : "On one head the joy and the pride, even rage like the throe 100 And upsoareth the cherubim-chariot-" Saul!" cried I, and stopped, And waited the thing that should follow. Then Saul, who hung propped By the tent's cross-support in the center, was struck by his name. Have ye seen when Spring's arrowy summons goes right to the aim, And some mountain, the last to withstand her, that held (he alone, 105 While the vale laughed in freedom and flowers) on a broad bust of stone A year's snow bound about for a breastplate,-leaves grasp of the sheet? Fold on fold all at once it crowds thunderously down to his feet, And there fronts you, stark, black, but alive yet, your mountain of old, With his rents, the successive bequeathings of ages untold: Yea, each harm got in fighting your battles, each furrow and scar III Of his head thrust 'twixt you and the tempest-all hail, there they are! -Now again to be softened with verdure, again hold the nest Of the dove, tempt the goat and its young to the green on his crest For their food in the ardors of summer. One long shudder thrilled 115 All the tent till the very air tingled, then sank and was stilled At the King's self left standing before me, released and aware. What was gone, what remained? All to traverse 'twixt hope and despair. 101. Cherubim (Heb. k'rubh). Angelic beings excelling in knowledge, next in rank to seraphim. 118. David's music had served Saul an ill turn had it only roused him from lethargy to despair. Death was past, life not come: so he waited. Awhile his right hand Held the brow, helped the eyes left too vacant, forthwith to remand 120 To their place what new objects should enter: 'twas Saul as before. I looked up, and dared gaze at those eyes, nor was hurt any more Than by slow pallid sunsets in autumn, ye watch from the shore, At their sad level gaze o'er the ocean-a sun's slow decline Over hills which, resolved in stern silence, o'erlap and entwine 125 Base with base to knit strength more intensely: so, arm folded arm O'er the chest whose slow heavings subsided. ΧΙ What spell or what charm, (For, awhile there was trouble within me) what next should I urge To sustain him where song had restored him? Song filled to the verge His cup with the wine of this life, pressing all that it yields Of mere fruitage, the strength and the beauty: beyond, on what fields, 131 Glean a vintage more potent and perfect to brighten the eye, And bring blood to the lip, and commend them the cup they put by? He saith, "It is good"; still he drinks not: he lets me praise life, Gives assent, yet would die for his own part. XII Then fancies grew rife Which had come long ago on the pasture, when round me the sheep 136 |