HISTORICAL NOTE.

The design followed out in the succeeding poem has been to touch upon the leading historical incidents of Saul's career that lead up to and explain his tragic death on Mount Gilboa. With him, nearly 3,000 years ago, commenced the Monarchical government of the Israelites, who had previously been governed by a Theocracy. The Prophet Samuel, who anointed Saul, was the last of the High Priests or Judges under this Theocracy, which existed for 800 years, and died out with the acceptance of Saul, by the Israelites, as "King of all the tribes of Israel." The incidents touched upon range from the proclamation of Saul as King, by Samuel (1095 B.C.), to the fall of the hapless Monarch at the battle of Gilboa, 40 years afterwards.

Death of Saul

As through the waves the freighted argosy Securely plunges, when the lode star's light Her path makes clear, and as, when angry clouds Obscure the guide that leads her on her way, She strikes the hidden rock and all is lost, So he of whom I sing—favoured of God, By disobedience dimmed the light divine That shone with bright effulgence like the sun, And sank in sorrow, where he might have soared Up to the loftiest peak of earthly joy In sweet foretaste of heavenly joys to come. Called from his flocks and herds in humble strait And made to rule a nation; high in Heaven The great Jehovah lighting up the way; On earth an upright Judge and Prophet wise Sent by the Lord to bend his steps aright; Sons dutiful and true; no speck to mar The noble grandeur of a proud career; Yet, from the rays that flickered o'er his path, Sent for his good, he wove the lightning shaft That seared his heart, e'en as the stalwart oak, Soaring in pride of pow'r, falls 'neath the flash, And lies a prostrate wreck. Like one of old, Who, wrestling with the orb whose far-off light Gave beauty to his waxen wings, upsoared Where angels dared not go, came to his doom, And fell a molten mass; so, tempting Heaven, Saul died the death of disobedient Pride And self-willed Folly—curses of mankind! Sins against God which wrought the Fall, and sent, As tempests moan along the listening night, A wail of mournful sadness drifting down The annals of the world: unearthly strains! Cries of eternal souls that know no rest.

Episode the First.

THE ISRAELITES DEMAND A KING, AND SAUL IS GIVEN TO RULE OVER THEM.

"God save the King!" the Israelites exclaimed, (a) When, by the aged Prophet summoned forth To Mizpeh, all the tribes by lot declared That Saul should be their ruler. Since they left The land of Egypt and its galling stripes, Till then, the only living God had been Their King and Governor; and Samuel old, The last of Israel's Judges, when he brought The man they chose to be their future King, And said: "Behold the ruler of your choice!" Told them of loving mercies they for years Had from the great Jehovah's hand received, And mourned in sorrowing tones that God their Judge Should be by them rejected: and they cried "A King! give us a King—for thou art old (b) "And in those ways thou all thy life hast walked "Walk not thy sons: lucre their idol is— "And Judgment is perverted by the bribes "They take to stifle justice: give us, then, "A King to judge us. Other nations boast "Of such a chief—a King, give us a King!" So Saul became the crowned of Israel— The first great King of their united tribes.

Episode the Second.

SAUL DISAPPOINTS THE EXPECTATIONS OF JEHOVAH, AND IS VISITED WITH THE ALMIGHTY'S DISPLEASURE.

Brave is the heart that beats with yearning throb Tow'rds highest hopes, when, wandering in the vale, Some snowy Alp gleams forth with flashing crown Of golden glory in the morning light. Brave is the heart that lovingly expands And longs the far-off splendour to embrace. Thus yearned the heart of Saul, when from his flocks The Prophet led him forth, and, pointing up Tow'rds Israel's crown, exclaimed: "See what the Lord Hath done for thee!" But Saul upon the throne Grew sorely dazed. Though brave the heart, the brain Swam in an ecstasy of wildering light— A helmless boat upon a troubled sea. Men nursed in gloom can rarely brook the sun; And many a life to sombre paths inured The sunshine of Prosperity hath quenched, As dewdrops glistening on the lowly sward Like priceless jewels ere the morning breaks, Melt into space when light and heat abound, As though they ne'er had been. Relentless fate! This ruthless law the world's wide ways hath fringed With wreckage of a host of peerless lives; And Saul is numbered 'mongst the broken drift. Saul, though the Lord's anointed, saw not God: But—curse of life! ingratitude prevailed. His faith waxed weak as days of trial came: And when, deserted by his teeming hosts At Gilgal, he the Prophet's priestly right In faithless haste assumed, the Prophet cried "The Lord hath said no son of thine shall reign O'er Israel!" (c) Yet, heedless of the voice Of warning which a patient God vouchsafed, With disobedience lurking in his heart, He strove to shield the King of Amalek— He whom the Lord commanded him to kill— Seizing his flocks and herds for selfish gain Beneath the garb of sacrificial faith— Sin so distasteful to the Lord that Saul Sat in the dark displeasure of his God. (d) And out from this displeasure, like the dawn From dusky night, the youthful David sprang— The Lord's anointed, yea, the Lord's beloved: Sweet Bard of Bethlehem! whose harp divine, Tuned to the throbbings of a guileless heart, Soothed the dark spirit of the sinful King, And woke his life to light and hope again, (e) But ah! the sling and stone his envy roused, And envy hate begat. 'Tis ever so: The honest fealty of a noble soul To all that's brave, and true, and good in life, Will meet malicious hindrance. So the King This brave young bard and warrior of the Lord In ruthless persecution sought to kill. Twice, with a true nobility of heart Which to the noble heart alone belongs, The slayer of Goliath stayed his hand When Saul lay at his mercy. "Take thy life; "Thou art the Lord's anointed, sinful, though, "And faithless to the truth as shifting sand!" Thus David spake, and went his weary way, An exile from the land he loved so well. So Saul had steeled his heart and set his face Against the living God, and thus he lay Beneath the great Jehovah's awful ban.

Episode the Third

SAUL, DESERTED BY THE ALMIGHTY, CONSULTS THE WITCH OF ENDOR, AND HIS FALL IS FORETOLD BY THE SPIRIT OF THE DEAD PROPHET.

As o'er the earth a darkling cloud appears, And grows in blackness till the scathing shaft Comes forth with swelling thunder, so the cloud, Black unto bursting with the wrath divine, Hung o'er the head of Israel's erring King. The light of heavenly faith from him was gone, And life was full of dreary, dark despair. Outstretched along the plains of Shunem lay The army of the heathen Philistines—(f) A countless horde, at whose relentless head Achish, the King of Gath, with stern acclaim Breathed war against the Israelitish host. Heedless of help from God, the wretched Saul Had called his tribes together, and they swarmed Along the plains of Gilboa, whence they saw The mighty army of their heathen foe Lie like a drowsy panther in its lair With limbs all wakeful for the hungry leap. "Enquire me of the Lord!" the King had said, Communing with the doubtings of his heart. But answer came not. Dreams were dumb and dark— Unfathomed mysteries. No Urim spake; And Prophets wore the silence of the grave. So Saul, the King, disheartened and disguised, Went forth at night.(g) The rival armies lay Sleeping beneath the darksome dome of Heaven, And all was still, save when the ghostly wind Swept o'er the plains with melancholy moan. That night the shadowy shape of one long dead Stood face-to-face with Saul, in lonely cave, The Witch of Endor's haunt. Ah, me—the fall! To degradation deep that man hath slid Who 'gainst the Lord in stiff-necked folly strives Choosing the path of cabalistic wiles— The dark and turbid garniture of toads, And philters rank of necromantic knaves— Who spurns the hand which, by the light of Heaven, Points clear and straight along the spacious road Which angel feet have trod. Ah, me—the fall! And sad the fate of him who shuns the truth: Who, like the lonely Saul, eschews the light, And leagues with darkness—listening for the voice Of angels in abodes where devils dwell. So the dead Prophet and the erring King, By Heaven's own will, not by the witch's craft, Confront each other in the dark retreat. The dreamy shadow speaks: "Wherefore," it saith, "Dost thou disquiet me!" (h) And from the earth Came the sepulchral tones, which, floating up, Joined the weird meanings of the hollow wind, And swept in ghostly cadences away Like exiled souls in pain. And Saul replied; "I'm sore distressed: Alas! the living God "Averts His face and answers me no more; "What"—and the pleading voice, in trembling tones That might have won a stony heart to tears, Asks of the shadowy shape—"What shall I do!" And hollow voices seem to echo back The anguish-freighted words—"What shall I do!" 'Twas hell's own mockery! The blistering heat— Like burning blast, hot and invisible— That scorched the heart of Saul, was but the breath Of Satan, gloating o'er the moral death Of him who, chosen of Jehovah, lay A victim to those foul Satanic wiles Which the sworn enemy of God had planned In inmost hate. "I cannot scale the height "Of Him 'gainst whom eternal enmity "I've sworn," it seemed to say: "but—soothing thought! "Deep in the hearts of mortals He hath named "To do His bidding, will I thrust my darts, "And through their wounds, as His ambassadors, "The spirit bruise of Him who sent them—thus!" And then again, as though his breaking heart Were cleft with red-hot blade, the voice of Saul Is heard in mortal anguish breathing out The soul-subduing tones—"What shall I do?" Dead silence intervenes; and then again The spirit of the Prophet slowly speaks: "To-morrow thou and thine," it faintly said, "Shalt be with me; and Israel's mighty host "Shall be the captives of the heathen foe!" The fateful answer smites the listener low, And utter darkness falls upon his life.

Episode the Fourth.

BATTLE OF GILBOA AND THE DEATH OF SAUL.

The morrow came: the bloody fray began. The sun shone fierce and hot upon the scene. Lashed into fury like a raging sea The wrestling multitude for vantage strove With deadly chivalry. On Gilboa's mount The King looked forth and watched the sanguine strife, Clothed in the golden panoply of war. Upon his brow the stately monarch wore The crown of all the tribes of Israel, A-fire with jewels flashing in the sun In bitter mockery of his trampled heart. Noble in mien, yet, with a sorrowing soul, Anxious his gaze—for in the sweltering surge Three sons of Saul were battling with the rest; His first-born, Jonathan; Abinadab; And Melchi-shua—idols of his life! Around him like a hurricane of hail The pinioned shafts with aim unerring sped, Bearing dark death upon their feathery wings. The clashing sword its dismal carnage made As foe met foe; and flashing sparks out-flew As blade crossed blade with murderous intent. The outcry rose—"They fly! they fly!" The King Looked down upon the fray with trembling heart. The bloody stream along the valley ran, And chariots swept like eagles on the wind On deathly mission borne. The conflict fierce Waxed fiercer—fiercer still; the rain of gore Wetted the soddened plain, and arrows flew Thicker and faster through the darkening air. The barbed spear, flung forth with stalwart arm, Sped like a whirlwind on its flight of death. Along the ranks the warrior's clarion call Inspired to valorous life the struggling hosts, And shouts of victory from contending hordes Blended with sorrowing moans of dying men. "Thy sons, O King!" a breathless herald cried, Fresh from the carnage, bowing low his head, Where Saul, heart-weary, watched the dreadful strife On Gilboa's height. "Thy sons, O mighty King!" The herald cried, and sank upon the ground By haste exhausted. Saul, with fitful start, Upraised the prostrate messenger. "My sons! "What of them? Speak!" he gasped, with startled look, "Dead!" moaned the herald, and an echo came, As though deep down in some sepulchral vault The word was spoken. From the heart of Saul That mournful echo came—so sad and low! "Dead! dead! Ah, woe is me!" he sadly sighed. "My sons—my best beloved! Woe! Woe—alas!" And as he spake, e'en while his head, gold-crowned, Bent low in pain beneath the crushing blow, An arrow from the foe his armour smote, And pierced his breast, already rent with grief. Then stepped with hurried tread a servant forth, And plucked the arrow from its cruel feast, Rending his robe to stanch the purple stream. "Heed not the wound!" exclaimed the King. "Too late! "Where Heaven smites, men's blows are light indeed." Then bending o'er his breast his kingly head He wept aloud: "Rejected of the Lord; "My sons among the slain; my valorous host "In bondage of the heathen—let me die!" So sobbed the King, as down the bloody plain The chariots of the foe came thundering on; And horsemen cleft the air in hot array— A mighty stream of chivalry and life! The Israelites had fled, and at their heels The roaring tumult followed like a storm That rolls from world to world. And through the blast Of warfare came a weak and wailing voice Moaning in utter anguish—"Let me die!" 'Twas Saul the Anointed—Israel's fallen King: Crushed 'neath the hand of an offended God! "Lo!" cried the King, and raised his tearful eyes, "The Philistines are near, pierce thou my breast!" And, turning round, his kingly breast he bared, Bidding his armour-bearer thrust his sword Hilt-deep into his heart. "Better to die "By friendly hand," he cried, "than owe my death "To yonder hated victors. Quick! Thy sword! "Thrust deep and quickly!" But the faltering hand That held the sword fell nerveless. "Mighty King! "I dare not!" spake the trembling armourer. "Then by my own I die," exclaimed the King. And as he spake he poised the glittering blade Point upward from the earth, and moaning fell Upon the thirsty steel. The ruddy gush Came spurting through the armour that he wore, And steamed in misty vapour to the sky In voiceless testimony to the truth Of words once spoken by the living God! Aghast the faithful armour-bearer stood. "O, mighty King! I die with thee!" he said, And, falling on his sword, the blood of both Commingled, as from ghastly wounds it ran In trickling streamlets down Mount Gilboa's side. (i) As ebbs and flows the sea with troubled throb 'Twixt shore and shore, or as the thistle-down Halts in the eddies of the summer wind In trembling doubt, so do the flickering souls Of dying men float fearingly between The earth and unseen worlds that lie beyond. So hung the life of Saul, whose bitter cup, Still at his lips, contained its bitterest dregs. Prostrate he lay, by bloody sword transfixed; A corpse his pillow; arms extended out, And body bent in agony of pain, The flame of life still fluttering at his heart A waning lamp. He heard the tumult swell. Bondage was worse than death. "They come! They come!" He moaned. "Stand ye upon my breast," he said, To one, a stranger, lingering near the spot, "And force the gurgling stream back on my heart, "To quench the life within me. Quick! They come!" The stranger did the cruel bidding. (j) Hark! "The King!" the foemen cry, and fiercely rusht Upon the Royal captive, who, till then, Had lain by them unseen. But while the shout Swept like a storm along the swelling ranks The soul of Saul went drifting through the dark, Like some fair ship with sails and cordage rent, Out from the stormy trials of his life, To tempt the terrors of an unknown sea. And then the cry of lamentation rose In Israel, and the Hebrew maidens hung Their speechless harps upon the willow branch, And mourned the loved and lost unceasingly.

(a) Nevertheless the people refused to obey the voice of Samuel; and they said, Nay, but we will have a King over us, that we also may be like all the nations. And Samuel said to all the people, "See ye him whom the Lord hath chosen." And all the people shouted and said, "God save the King!"—I SAMUEL, viii. and ix. 19, 20, 24.

(b) And it came to pass, when Samuel was old, that he made his sons judges over Israel. And his sons walked not in his ways, but turned aside after lucre, and took bribes, and perverted judgment.—I SAMUEL, viii., 1, 2.

(c) And Saul said, "Bring hither a burnt offering," and he offered the burnt offering. And Samuel came, and Saul went out to meet him. And Samuel said, "What hast thou done? Thou hast not kept the commandment of the Lord thy God which he commanded thee, and thy kingdom shall not continue."—I SAMUEL, xiii., 10, 14.

(d) And Samuel said, "The Lord sent thee, and said go and utterly destroy the sinners, the Amalekites. Wherefore didst thou not obey the voice of the Lord, but didst fly upon the spoil?" And Saul said unto Samuel, "The people took of the spoil, sheep and oxen, to sacrifice unto the Lord thy God at Gilgal." And Samuel said, "Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, he hath also rejected thee."—I SAMUEL, xv,, 18, 23.

(e) And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand. So Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.—I SAMUEL, xvi., 23.

(f) And the Philistines gathered themselves together, and came and pitched in Shunem; and Saul gathered all Israel together, and they pitched in Gilboa.—I SAMUEL, xxviii., 4.

(g) Then said Saul unto his servants, "Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit, that I may go to her and enquire of her." And his servants said to him, "Behold, there is a woman that hath a familiar spirit at Endor." And Saul disguised himself, and came to the woman by night. And he said, "I pray thee, divine unto me by the familiar spirit, and bring him up whom I shall name of thee."—I SAMUEL, xxviii., 7, 8.

(h) And Samuel said to Saul, "Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?" And Saul answered, "I am sore distressed, for the Philistines make war against me, and God is departed from me, and answereth me no more. Therefore I have called thee, that thou mayest make known unto me what I shall do." And Samuel said, "Because thou obeyedst not the voice of the Lord, nor executedst not his fierce wrath upon Amalek, therefore hath the Lord done this thing unto thee this day. To-morrow shalt thou and thy sons be with me; and the Lord also shall deliver the host of Israel into the hand of the Philistines." Then Saul fell straightway all along on the earth.—I SAMUEL, xxviii., 15, 20.

(i) And the battle went sore against Saul, and the archers hit him, and he was sore wounded of the archers. Then said Saul unto his armour-bearer, "Draw thy sword, and thrust me through therewith, lest these uncircumcised come and thrust me through." But his armour-bearer would not, therefore Saul took a sword and fell upon it. And when his armour-bearer saw that Saul was dead, he fell likewise upon his sword, and died with him.—I SAMUEL, xxxi., 3, 5.

(j) And David said unto the young man, "How knowest thou that Saul and Jonathan his son be dead?" And the young man that told him said: "As I happened by chance upon Mount Gilboa, behold, Saul leaned upon his spear: and lo! the chariots and horsemen followed hard after him. And he said unto me, Stand, I pray thee, upon me, and slay me; for anguish is come upon me, because my life is yet whole within me. So I stood upon him, and slew him, because I was sure that he could not live, after that he was fallen."—II SAMUEL, i., 5, 10.