| |
| DEATH’S 1 angel now, commission’d by the Lord, | |
| O’er the fond infant holds the fatal sword; | |
| From the dread sight the frantic father turns, | |
| And, clad in sackcloth, in his chamber mourns; | |
| The monitor, within the royal breast, | 5 |
| That long had slept, now roused at length from rest, | |
| Holds forth a mirror to the aching sight, | |
| Seizes the mind that fain would take its flight— | |
| Bids it look in:—and first, Uriah stood, | |
| Arm’d for the fight, as yet unstain’d with blood; | 10 |
| Courage and care were on his brow combined, | |
| To show the hero and the patriot join’d:— | |
| Next, pale and lifeless, on his warlike shield, | |
| The soldiers bore him from the bloody field. | |
| “And is it thus? (the Royal mourner said) | 15 |
| “And has my hand perform’d the dreadful deed? | |
| Was I the wretch that gave thee to the foe, | |
| And bade thee sink beneath the impending blow? | |
| Bade every friend and hero leave thy side?— | |
| Open, O earth! and in thy bosom hide | 20 |
| A guilty wretch who wishes not to live; | |
| Who cannot, dares not, ask for a reprieve; | |
| So black a crime just Heaven will not forgive! | |
| Justice arrests thy coming mercy, Lord— | |
| Strike then, O strike, unsheath thy dreadful sword: | 25 |
| Accursed forever be the hated day, | |
| That led my soul from innocence astray; | |
| O may the stars, on that detested hour, | |
| Shed all their influence with malignant power, | |
| Darkness and sorrows jointly hold their reign, | 30 |
| When time, revolving, brings it round again. | |
| Ye injured ghosts, break from the silent tomb, | |
| In all the fearful pomp of horror come, | |
| Breathe out your woes, and hail the dreadful gloom. | |
| Why does not injured Israel now arise, | 35 |
| Proclaim my madness to the avenging skies, | |
| Hurl quick the sceptre from my bloody hand, | |
| While marks of infamy my forehead brand? | |
| No time shall e’er the dreadful act conceal— | |
| No tongue shall fail its horrors to reveal— | 40 |
| Eternity, upon its strongest wing, | |
| Shall bear the deeds whence all my sorrows spring. | |
| Unhappy man!—ah! whither shall I turn? | |
| Like Cain, accurst, must I for ever mourn? | |
| On beds of silk in vain I seek repose— | 45 |
| Uriah’s shade forbids my eyes to close; | |
| No bars exclude him—to no place confined, | |
| Eager he still pursues my flying mind: | |
| Not all the crowd that bow at my approach, | |
| Nor guards that thicken round the gilded couch, | 50 |
| Can with their arms, or martial air, affright, | |
| Or drive the phantom from my wearied sight. | |
| Whene’er I view the diamond’s varied rays, | |
| That grace my robes, or on my sceptre blaze, | |
| Uriah still, reflected from the stone, | 55 |
| Points at his wounds, and shows me what I ’ve done. | |
| Could all the gold that lies on India’s coast, | |
| Could all the gems its num’rous quarries boast, | |
| Bribe peace a moment to this aching heart, | |
| How freely with the glitt’ring store I ’d part. | 60 |
| Black, heavy thoughts, ah! what a num’rous train! | |
| I feel your stings unpitied, yet complain. | |
| Thou gallant hero, say, where art thou now? | |
| Gone, gone for ever! sunk beneath my blow!— | |
| Of my uplifted arm, my dire command, | 65 |
| Fell Ammon’s sword was wielded by my hand! | |
| When the fierce battle glow’d with hottest rage, | |
| Where all the mighty, arm to arm engage, | |
| Where frightful death his various forms put on, | |
| You met the terror of his dreadful frown.— | 70 |
| As some huge tree, whose tow’ring threats the sky, | |
| While deep in earth its roots embosom’d lie, | |
| Mocks at the warring winds, and proudly dares | |
| The tempest’s force, nor once destruction fears: | |
| So, unappall’d, the glorious leader stood, | 75 |
| Though torn with wounds, and cover’d o’er with blood; | |
| O’er hills of slaughter’d foes he makes his way— | |
| His sword, from Ammon, gain’d the doubtful day: | |
| Yet, while aloft the Hebrew standard flies, | |
| And vict’ry shouts to echoing earth and skies, | 80 |
| The lifeless hero, stretch’d upon the shield, | |
| With countless wounds is borne from off the field. | |
| Once, how he shone amidst the gazing throng, | |
| Who praised his courage as he pass’d along! | |
| On thy firm brow, what beaming splendor shone! | 85 |
| By thy bold arm, how strengthen’d was my throne! | |
| And shall thy murd’rer crown thy head with bays, | |
| And dare thy godlike virtues thus to praise? | |
| From cruel fate, ah! whither shall I run?— | |
| Capricious lust!—thou hast my soul undone! | 90 |
| Drawn on by impious passion, I pursued | |
| The flying fair, and oft my suit renew’d; | |
| The humble suppliant, and the haughty lord, | |
| By turns put on, no ray of hope afford;— | |
| She heard at length, but with an obdurate ear— | 95 |
| And still Uriah draws the pitying tear. | |
| O happy day! when, blest with Eglah’s charms, | |
| I woo’d no other beauty to my arms; | |
| No court’s licentious joys did then molest | |
| My peaceful mind, nor haunt my tranquil breast. | 100 |
| A glitt’ring crown! thou poor, fantastic thing! | |
| What solid satisfaction canst thou bring?— | |
| Once, far removed from all the toils of state, | |
| In groves I slept—no guards around me wait: | |
| Oh! how delicious was the calm retreat!— | 105 |
| Sweet groves! with birds and various flowers stored, | |
| Where nature furnish’d out my frugal board; | |
| The pure, unstained spring, my thirst allay’d; | |
| No poison’d draught, in golden cups convey’d, | |
| Was there to dread.—Return, ye happy hours, | 110 |
| Ye verdant shades, kind nature’s pleasing bowers— | |
| Inglorious solitude, again return, | |
| And heal the breast with pain and anguish torn. | |
| Oh! sweet content! unknown to pomp and kings, | |
| The humble rest beneath thy downy wings; | 115 |
| The lowly cottage is thy loved retreat— | |
| In vain, thou ’rt courted by the rich and great— | |
| In vain, the miser seeks thee in his gold— | |
| In vain, each day the glitt’ring store is told; | |
| Thou art not there: in vain the ambitious sigh, | 120 |
| And seek the joys that still before them fly: | |
| The merchant’s ship all treasures brings but thee— | |
| You from his anxious bosom ever flee: | |
| For thee, the sailor tempts the boist’rous main, | |
| And hopes to find thee in his dear-bought gain: | 125 |
| For thee, the hero mounts his iron car, | |
| And hopes to find thee when return’d from war. | |
| Their hopes are vain.—Who wish with thee to dwell, | |
| Must seek the rural shade, or lonely cell: | |
| The Gods themselves delight in verdant groves, | 130 |
| And shield from harm the innocence they love.— | |
| Witness, the day, my youthful arm withstood | |
| The foaming bear:—the monarch of the wood, | |
| With open jaws appear’d, and crested mien, | |
| But in a moment by my hand was slain: | 135 |
| Safe from their teeth I snatch’d the destined prey, | |
| And bore it harmless in my arms away.— | |
| Witness, the day, Gath’s lordly champion came, | |
| With haughty strides, and cursed Jehovah’s name; | |
| Though in my hand nor sword nor spear were found, | 140 |
| This vast unwieldly bulk lay stretch’d upon the ground. | |
| Beloved by Heaven, nought had I then to fear— | |
| Twice I escaped from Saul’s emitted spear, | |
| By malice thrown; and, free from danger, stand, | |
| Hid in the hollow of th’ Almighty’s hand;— | 145 |
| His darling then I was; who, mighty God! | |
| Sink now beneath the terrors of thy rod. | |
| Dispel those thick, dark clouds, this boist’rous wind, | |
| That tears the soul, and harrows up the mind; | |
| Oh! let thy mercy, like the solar ray, | 150 |
| Break forth and drive these dismal clouds away; | |
| Oh! send its kind enliv’ning warmth on one, | |
| Who sinks, who dies, beneath thy dreadful frown: | |
| Thus fares the wretch at sea, by tempests tost— | |
| Sands, hurricanes, and rocks, proclaim him lost; | 155 |
| With eager eyes he views the peaceful shore, | |
| And longs to rest where billows cease to roar:— | |
| Of wanton winds and waves I ’ve been the sport— | |
| Oh! when shall I attain the wish’d for port? | |
| Or might I bear the punishment alone, | 160 |
| Nor hear the lovely infant’s piteous moan;— | |
| My sins upon the dying child impress’d, | |
| The dreadful thought forbids my soul to rest. | |
| In mercy, Lord, thy humble suppliant hear— | |
| Oh! give the darling to my ardent prayer!— | 165 |
| Cleanse me from sin—oh! graciously forgive— | |
| Blest with thy love, oh! let thy servant live: | |
| Thy smiles withdrawn, what is the world to me? | |
| My hopes, my joys, are placed alone on thee: | |
| Oh! let thy love, to this desponding heart, | 170 |
| One ray, at least, of heavenly love impart.” | |
