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(From Ruins of Many Lands)
DARK Endor! canst thou now existing be? | |
| How creeps the blood, as thus we gaze on thee! | |
| Hath nothing changed? Time’s wave rolled on unfelt? | |
| Is this the cave where Endor’s Sorceress dwelt? | |
| Our fancy leaps past years,—we see her now | 5 |
| Stand in the midst, with scorched and withered brow; | |
| She shakes her wand of might, and weaves her spell, | |
| And calls on powers of air and fiends of hell. | |
| And there leaned he, in stern though calm dismay, | |
| Whom deep remorse and woe had made their prey,— | 10 |
| Who, wronged by men, and now cast off by God, | |
| The fearful path of desperation trod, | |
| And came to bid the dead unfold his doom, | |
| And lift from future hours the veil of gloom. | |
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| She saw,—the witch moved back in pale affright, | 15 |
| And her bleared eyes shot forth a fiendish light: | |
| He comes! in mantle clad, austere and old, | |
| Around his brow the grave’s white napkin rolled; | |
| He comes, in ghastly stillness rising slow, | |
| Through opening earth, from Hades’ mists below! | 20 |
| For ah! not yet the soul hath winged away, | |
| Wrapped in deep rest, till dawns the judgment-day. | |
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| Could Saul confront that Prophet’s risen shade, | |
| With eye unblenching, spirit undismayed? | |
| He never quailed in fight, but now he grew | 25 |
| Palsied with fear, his cheek of livid hue; | |
| The grave’s cold atmosphere seemed round him cast, | |
| That silence thrilled beyond the trumpet-blast; | |
| Instinctive dread ran creeping to his heart,— | |
| His hair stood up, his eyeballs seemed to start: | 30 |
| Yet still he gazed, retreating,—wildly stirred | |
| His heaving breast, although he spoke no word; | |
| Each pale limb shook,—he bowed,—to earth he clung, | |
| And on his brow big drops of terror hung. | |
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| Then Samuel spoke: his words sepulchral came, | 35 |
| And pierced like fire the wretched monarch’s frame; | |
| And Saul can answer now—alas! his fate | |
| Is hopeless all, and more than desolate. | |
| The battle lost,—his kingdom torn away,— | |
| All clouds and darkness life’s fast-closing day. | 40 |
| Hark! ’t is the Shade declares: “Another sun, | |
| Thou man of woe and crime! thy race is run; | |
| To-morrow Hades opes its gloom for thee, | |
| Thou and thy warrior sons shall be with me!” | |
| And so it fell; the fierce unpitying foe | 45 |
| Triumphed o’er Saul, and laid his followers low; | |
| And yonder rise those hills in lonely pride, | |
| Where on his sword the king in anguish died, | |
| And gentle Jonathan’s career was o’er, | |
| To shield his friend, and warm with love no more. | 50 |
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