Fed in silence-above, the one eagle wheeled slow as in sleep; And I lay in my hollow and mused on the world that might lie 'Neath his ken, tho' I saw but the strip 'twixt the hill and the sky: And I laughed-" Since my days are ordained to be passed with my flocks, 140 Let me people at least, with my fancies, the plains and the rocks, Dream the life I am never to mix with, and image the show Of mankind as they live in those fashions I hardly shall know! Schemes of life, its best rules and right uses, the courage that gains, And the prudence that keeps what men strive for!" And now these old trains 145 Of vague thought came again; I grew surer; so, once more the string Of my harp made response to my spirit, as thus XIII "Yea, my King," I began “thou dost well in rejecting mere comforts that spring From the mere mortal life held in common by man and by brute: In our flesh grows the branch of this life, in our soul it bears fruit. 150 Thou hast marked the slow rise of the tree,-how its stem trembled first Till it passed the kid's lip, the stag's antler; then safely outburst The fan-branches all round; and thou mindest when these too, in turn Broke a-bloom and the palm-tree seemed perfect: yet more was to learn, E'en the good that comes in with the palm-fruit. Our dates shall we slight, 155 When their juice brings a cure for all sorrow? or care for the plight Of the palm's self whose slow growth produced them? Not so! stem and branch Shall decay, nor be known in their place, while the palmwine shall stanch Every wound of man's spirit in winter. I pour thee such wine. Leave the flesh to the fate it was fit for! the spirit be thine! By the spirit, when age shall o'ercome thee, thou still shalt 161 enjoy More indeed, than at first when, inconscious, the life of a boy. Crush that life, and behold its wine running! Each deed thou hast done Dies, revives, goes to work in the world; until e'en as the sun Looking down on the earth, tho' clouds spoil him, tho' tem pests efface, 165 Can find nothing his own deed produced not, must everywhere trace The results of his past summer-prime,—so, each ray of thy will, Every flash of thy passion and prowess, long over, shall thrill Thy whole people, the countless, with ardor, till they too give forth A like cheer to their sons: who in turn, fill the South and the North 170 With the radiance thy deed was the germ of. Carouse in the past! But the license of age has its limit; thou diest at last. As the lion when age dims his eyeball, the rose at her height. So with man-so his power and his beauty for ever take flight. No! Again a long draught of my soul-wine! Look forth o'er the years! 175 Thou hast done now with eyes for the actual; begin with the seer's! Is Saul dead? In the depth of the vale make his tomb bid arise A gray mountain of marble heaped four-square, till, built to the skies, Let it mark where the great First King slumbers: whose fame would ye know? Up above see the rock's naked face, where the record shall go 180 In great characters cut by the scribe,-Such was Saul, so he did; With the sages directing the work, by the populace chid,— For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! Which fault to amend, In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, whereon they shall spend (See, in tablets 'tis level before them) their praise, and record 185 With the gold of the graver, Saul's story,-the statesman's great word Side by side with the poet's sweet comment. The river's a-wave With smooth paper-reeds grazing each other when prophetwinds rave: So the pen gives unborn generations their due and their part In thy being! Then, first of the mighty, thank God that thou art!" 190 And before it not seldom has granted thy help to essay, 179. First King. Cf. 1 Sam. 10. 191-205. David pauses in his narration, which he resumes in the next section, Carry on and complete an adventure,-my shield and my sword In that act where my soul was thy servant, thy word was my word, Still be with me, who then at the summit of human endeavor And scaling the highest, man's thought could, gazed hopeless as ever 196 On the new stretch of heaven above me-till, mighty to save, Just one lift of thy hand cleared that distance-God's throne from man's grave! Let me tell out my tale to its ending-my voice to my heart Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels last night I took part, 200 As this morning I gather the fragments, alone with my sheep, Slow the damage of yesterday's sunshine. XV I say then,-my song While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and, ever more strong, 206 Made a proffer of good to console him, he slowly resumed His old motions and habitudes kingly. The right hand replumed His black locks to their wonted composure, adjusted the swathes Of his turban, and see-the huge sweat that his countenance bathes, 210 He wipes off the robe; and he girds now his loins as of yore, 202. Evanish. A poetical form of vanish. 203. Hebron. A town sixteen miles southwest of Jerusalem. 204. Kidron. Kedron, a winter brook in a ravine east of Jerusalem. And feels slow for the armlets of price, with the clasp set before. He is Saul, ye remember in glory,—ere error had bent The broad brow from the daily communion; and still, tho' much spent Be the life and the bearing that front you, the same, God did choose, 215 To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, never quite lose. So sank he along by the tent-prop, till, stayed by the pile awhile, And sat out my singing,-one arm round the tent-prop, to raise His bent head, and the other hung slack-till I touched on the praise 220 I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there; And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak roots which please To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to know If the best I could do had brought solace: he spoke not, but slow 226 Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he laid it with care Soft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my brow: thro' my hair The large fingers were pushed, and he bent back my head, with kind power All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men do a flower. Thus held he me there with his great eyes that scrutinized mine 231 And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but where was the sign? I yearned-" Could I help thee, my father, inventing a bliss, I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and this; |