DAVID

What tunes, what words, what looks, what wonders pierce My soul, incensed with a sudden fire, What tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame? Faite Evam placed in perfect happiness, Lending her praise-notes to the liberal heavens, Struck with the accents of Archangels tunes, Wrought not more pleasure to her husbands thoughts, Then this fair woman's words and notes to mine. May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight, Be still enameled with discoloured flowers, That precious fount, bear sand of purest gold, And for the Pebble, let the silver streams That pierce earth's bowels to maintain the source, Play upon Rubies, Saphires, Chrisolites, The brims let be embraced with golden curls Of moss that sleeps with found the waters make, For joy to feed the fount with their recourse, Let all the grass that beautifies her bower, Bear Manna every morn in steed of Due, Or let the Due be sweeter far then that That hangs Like chains of pearl on Hermon hill, Or balm which trickled from old Arons beard. Cusay, come up and serve thy lord the King. Enter Cus. Nay my fair son, my self with all my lords Will bring thee too much charge, yet some shall go. Uria's hath a beauteous sober wife, Yet young, and framed of tempting flesh and blood, Then when the King hath summoned thee from arms, If thou unkindly shouldst refrain her bed, Sin might be laid upon Uria's soul, If Bethsheeba by frailty hurt her fame: Then go Uria's, in her love, Whom God hath knit to thee, tremble to loose. Well done my good Uria's, drink thy fill, That in thy fullness David may rejoice. How joust is Jacob's God in all his works! But must it die that David loves so? Oh that the mighty one of Israel Nill change his dome, and says the babe must die, Mourn Israel and weep in Zion gates, Wither you Caedar trees of Libanon, You sprouting Almons with your flowering tops, Droop, drown, and drench in Hebrons fearful streams. The babe must die that was to David born, His mother's sin his kingly father's scorn. Yea David's heart will not be comforted, What murmur you the servants of the King, What tidings telleth Cusay to the King? Say Cusay, lives the child, or is he dead? Uria's wife sayest thou? The child is dead, then ceases David's shame, Fetch me to eat, and give me Wine to drink, Water to wash, and Oil to clear my looks, Bring down your Shaums, your Cymbals, and your Pipes, Let David's Harp and Lute, his hand and voice, Give laud to him that loves Israel, And sing his praise, that shendeth David's fame, That put away his sin from out his sighed, And sent his shame into the streets of Gath, Bring you to me the mother of the babe, That I may wipe the tears from off her face, And give her comfort with this hand of mine, And deck fair Bersabe with ornaments, That she may bear to me another son, That may be loved of the Lord of hosts: For where he is, of force must David go, But never may he come where David is. Fair Bersabe, fit thou, and sighs no more, And sing and play you servants of the King, Now sleepeth David's sorrow with the dead, And Bersabe lives to Israel. Hark to me Hannon, and remember well, As sure as he does live that kept my host, What time our young men by the pool of Gibeon, Went forth against the strength of Isboseth, And twelve to twelve did with their weapons play, So sure art thou, and thy men of war To feel the sword of Israel this day, Because thou hast defied Jacob's God, And suffered Rabba with the Philislime To rail upon the tribe of Benjamin. Welcome my sons, deeret to me you are Then is this golden crown, or Hannons spoil. Oh tell me then, tell me my sons I say, How comes it to pass, that Absolon Hath slain his brother Ammon with the sword? Thou woman of Thecoa answer me, Answer me one thing I shall ask of thee, Is not the hand of Joab in this work? Tell me is not his finger in this fact? Sadoc high priest, preserver of the ark, Whose sacred virtue keeps the chosen crown, I know my God is spotless in his vows, And that these hairs shall greet my graven in peace: But that my son should wrong his tendered soul, And fight against his father's happiness, Turns all my Hope's into despair of him, And that despair, feeds all my veins with grief. Me thinks the voice of Ithay fills mine ears. Then gentle Ithay be thou still with us, A joy to David, and a grace to Israel. Go Sadoc now, and bear the ark of God Into the great Jerusalem again, If I find favour in his gracious eyes, Then will he lay his hand upon my heart Yet once again before I visit death, Giving it strength and virtue to mine eyes, To taste the comforts, and behold the form Of his fair ark, and holy tabernacle, But if he say my wonted love is worn, And I have no delight in David now, Here lie I armed with and humble heart, TO embrace the pains that anger shall impose, And kiss the sword my lord shall kill me with, Then Sadoc take Ahimaas thy son, With Jonathan son to Abiathar, And in these fields will I repose my self, Till they return from you some certain news. No Cusay no, thy presence unto me, Will be a burden since I tender thee, And cannot break thy sighs for David's sake: But if thou turn to fair Jerusalem, And say to Absalon, as thou hast been A trusty friend unto his father's seat, So thou wilt be to him, and call him King, Achitophel's counsel may be brought to nought. Then having Sadoc and Abiathar, All three may learn the secrets of my son, Sending the message by Ahimaas, And friendly Jonathan, who both are there, Then rise, referring the success to heaven. Cusay I rise, though with unwieldy bones, I carry arms against my Absalon. Exeunt. Why meddleth thus the son of Zervia To interrupt the Actium of our God? Semei uses me with this reproach, Because the Lord hath sent him to reprove The sins of David, printed in his brows, With blood that blusheth for his conscience gilded, Who dares then ask him why he curseth me? I am not desperate Semei Like thy self, But trust unto the covenant of my God, Founded on mercy with repentance built, And finished with the glory of my soul. Welcome Ahimaas and Jonathan, What news sends Cusay to thy lord the King. What seewes them best, then that will David do, But now my lords and captains hear his voice That never yet pierced piteous heaven in vain, Then let it not slip lightly through your ears, For my sake spare the young man Absalon. Joab thy self didst once use friendly words To reconcile my heart incensed to him, If then thy love be to thy kinsman found, And thou wilt prove a perfect Israelite, Friend him with deeds, and touch no hair of him, Not that fair hair with which the wanton winds Delight to play, and loves to make curl, Wherein the Nightingales would built their nests, And make sweet bowers in every golden tress, To sing their lover every night asleep. Oh spoil not Joab, Jove's fair ornaments, Which he hath sent to solace David's soul. The best you see (my lords) are swift to sin, To sin our feet are washed with milk of Roes, And dried again with coals of lightning. Oh Lord thou seest the proudest sins, poor slave, And with his bridle, pulst him to the graven, For my sake then spare lovely Absalon. Fair Bersabe, thou mightest increase the strength, Of these thy arguments drawn from my skill, By urging thy sweet sighed to my conceits, Whose virtue ever served for sacred balm To cheer my pinings passed all earthly joys, But Bethsheeba, the daughter of the highest, Whose beauty builds the towers of Israel, She that in chains of pearl and unicorn, Leads at her train the ancient golden world, The world that Adam held in Paradise, Whose breath refineth all infectious airs, And makes the meadows smile at her repair. She, She my dearest Bethsheeba, Fair peace, the goddess of our graces here, Is fled the streets of fair Jerusalem, The fields of Israel, and the heart of David, Leading my comforts in her golden chains, Linked to the life and soul of Absalon. Tell me my Salomon, wilt thou embrace Thy father's precepts graved in thy heart, And satisfy my zeal to thy renown, With practice of such sacred principles As shall concern the state of Israel? Wade not too far my boy in waves too deep, The feeble eyes of our aspiring thoughts Behold things present, and record things passed: But things to come, exceed our humane reach, And are not painted yet in angels eyes: For those, submit thy sense, and say, Thou power That now art framing of the future world, Knowest all to come, not by the course of heaven, By frail conjectures of inferior signs, By monstrous floods, by flights and flocks of birds, By bowels of a sacrificed beast; Or by the figures of some hidden art: But by a true and natural presage, Laying the ground and perfect architect Of all our actions now before thine eyes, From Adam to the end of Adam's seed, Oh heaven protect my weakness with thy strength, So look on me that I may view thy face, And see these secrets written in thy brows. Oh sun come dart thy rays upon my moon, That now mine eyes eclipsed to the earth, May brightly be refined and shine to heaven. Transform me from this flesh, that I may live Before my death, regenerate with thee. Oh thou great God, ravish my earthly sprite, That for the time a more then humane skill May feed the Organons of all my sense, That when I think, thy thoughts may be my guide, And when I speak, I may be made by choice The perfect echo of thy heavenly voice. Thus say my son, and thou shalt learn them all. He is a good man, and good tidings brings. Tell me Ahimaas, lives my Absalon? See Cusay see, the flower of Israel, The fairest daughter that obeys the King, In all the land the lord subdued to me. Fairer then Isacs lover at the well, Brighter then inside bark of new hewed Caedar, Sweeter then flames of fine perfumed myrrh. And comelier then the silver clouds that dance On Zephires wings before the king of heaven. Bright Bethsheeba shall wash in David's bower, In water mixed with purest Almond flower, And both her beauty in the milk of kids, Bright Bethsheeba gives earth to my desires, Verdure to earth, and to that verdure flowers, To flowers, sweet Odours, and to Odours wings, That carry pleasures to the hearts of Kings. Now comes my lover tripping Like the Roe, And brings my longings tangled in her hair, To joy her love I'll built a kingly bower, Seated in hearing of a hundred streams, That for their homage to her sovereign joys, Shall as the serpents sold into their nests, In oblique turnings wind the nimble waves, About the circles of her curious walks, And with their murmur summon easeful sleep, To lay his golden sceptre on her brows, Open the doors, and entertain my love, Open I say, and as you open sing, Welcome fair Bethsheeba King David's darling. Welcome fair Bethsheeba King David's darling, Thy bones fair covering, erst discovered fair, And all mine eyes with all thy beauties pierced, As heavens bright eye burns most when most he climes The crooked Zodiac with his fiery sphere, And shines furthest from this earthly globe: So since thy beauty scorched my conquered soul, I called thee nearer for my nearer cure. My love, if want of love have left thy soul, A sharper sense of Honour then thy King, (For love leads Princes sometime from their seats,) As erst my heart was hurt, displeasing thee, So come and taste thy ease, with easing me. Leave it to me my dearest Bethsheeba, Whose skill is conversant in deeper cures, And Cusay hast thou to my servant Joab, Commanding him to send Uria's home With all the speed can possibly be used. My Absolon, what makest thou here alone, And bears such discontentment in thy brows? Gainst whom should Absolon be thus displeased? Hath Ammon brought this evil on my house, And suffered sin to smite his father's bones, Smite David deadlier then the voice of heaven, And let hates fire be kindled in thy heart, Frame in the arches of thy angry brows, Making thy forehead Like a comet shine, To force false Ammon tremble at thy looks, Sin with his sevenfold crown and purple robe, Begins his triumphs in my guilty throne, There sits he watching with his hundred eyes, Our idle minutes, and our wanton thoughts, And with his baits made of our frail desires, Gives us the hook that Hales our souls to hell: But with the spirit of my kingdoms God, I'll thrust the flattering Tyrant from his throne, And scourge his bondslaves from my hallowed court With rods of iron, and thorns of sharpened steel: Then Absolon revenge not thou this sin, Leave it to me, and I will chasten him. This hath dot God, and Joab's prowess done, Without Uria's valours, I am sure, Who since his true conversion from a Hethite, To and adopted son of Israel, Hath sought Like one whose arms were lift by heaven, And whose bright sword was edged with Israel's wrath: Go therefore home Uria's, take thy rest, Visit thy wife and household with the joys A victor and a favourite of the Kings Should exercise with honour after arms. Then be it with Uria's manly heart, As best his fame may shine in Israel. Then fetch some flagons of our purest Wine, That we may welcome home our hardy friend, With full carouses to his Fortune's passed, And to the honours of his future arms, Then will I send him back to Rabath siege, And follow with the strength of Israel. Arise Uria's, come and pledge the King. He riseth. Fill him his glass. Rather Uria's go thou home and sleep. If nought will serve to save his wives renown, I'll send him with a letter unto Joab To put him in the forefront of the wars, That so my purposes may take effect. Help him in sirs. Exit David and Absolon. Nathan, I have against the Lord, I have Sinned, Oh sinned grievously, and lo From heavens throne does David throw himself, And groan and grovel to the gates of hell. He falls down. Now arms, and warlike engines for assault, Prepare at once you men of Israel, You men of Juda and Jerusalem, That Rabba may be taken by the King, Least it be called after Joab's name, Nor David's glory shine in Zion streets, To Rabba marches David with his men To chastise Ammon and the wicked ones. Exeunt omnes. Ay me, how soon are David's triumphs dashed, How suddenly declineth David's pride, As does the daylight settle in the west, So dim is David's glory, and his gite. Die David, for to thee is left no seed, That may revive thy name in Israel. How long shall Juda and Jerusalem Complain and water Zion with their tears? How long shall Israel lament in vain, And not a man among the mighty ones Will hear the sorrows of King David's heart? Ammon thy life was pleasing to thy Lord, As to mine ears the Music of my Lute, Or songs that David tuneth to his Harp, And Absalon hath taken from me away The gladness of my sad distressed soul. Exeunt omnes. Tell me, and say, thou woman of Thecoa, What aileth thee, or what is come to pass. Woman return, go home unto thy house, I will take order that thy son be safe, If any man say otherwise then well, Bring him to me, and I shall chastise him: For as the Lord does live, shall not a hair Shed from thy son, or fallen upon the earth. Woman to God alone belongs revenge, Shall then the kindred slay him for his sin? Say Joab, didst thou send this woman in To put this parable for Absalon. I have and am content to do the thing, Go fetch my son, that he may live with me. Hast thou slain in the fields of Hazor Ah Absalon my son, ah my son Absolon, But wherefore do I vex thy spirit so, Live and return from Gesur to thy house, Return from Gesur to Jerusalem, What boots it to be bitter to thy soul, Ammon is dead, and Absolon survives. Depart with me you men of Israel, You that have followed Rabba with the sword, And ransack Ammon's richest treasuries, Live Absalon my son, live once in peace, Peace with thee, and with Jerusalem. But wherefore goest thou to the wars with us, Thou art a stranger here in Israel, And son to Achis mighty king of Gath, Therefore return, and with thy father stay, Thou camest but yesterday, and should I now Let thee partake these troubles here with us? Keep both thy self, and all thy soldiers safe, Let me abide the hazards of these arms, And God requite the friendship thou hast showed. Then does it aim with danger at my crown, Oh thou that holdest his raging bloody bound, Within the circle of the silver moon, That girds earth's centre with his watery scarf, Limit the counsel of Achitophel, No bounds extending to my souls distress, But turn his wisdom into foolishness. What happiness or honour may betide His state that toils in my extremities? Why should the sons of Zervia seek to check His spirit which the Lord hath thus inspired: Behold my son which issued from my flesh, With equal fury seeks to take my life. How much more then the son of Iemini, Chiefly since he does nought but Gods command, It may be he will look on me this day With gracious eyes, and for his cursing bless, The heart of David in his bitterness. Thanks to Abiathar, and to you both, And to my Cusay, whom the Lord requite, But ten times Triple thanks to his soft hand, Whose pleasant touch hath made my heart to dance, And play him praises in my zealous breast, That turned the counsel of Achitophel After the prayers of his servants lips. Now will we pass the river all this night, And in the morning found the voice of war, The voice of bloody and unkindly war. Nathan thou Prophet, sprung from Jesses root, I promise thee, and lovely Bethsheeba, My Salomon shall govern after me. If he be come alone, he brings news. But Cusay lives the young man Absalon? Hath Absalon sustained the stroke of death? Die David for the death of Absalon, And make these cursed news the bloody darts, That through his bowels rip thy wretched breast. Hence David, walk the solitary woods, And insome Caedars shade the thunder slew, And fire from heaven hath made his branches black Fit mourning the decease of Absalon, Against the body of that blasted plant In thousand shivers break thy ivory Lute, Hanging thy stringless harp upon his boughs, And through the hollow sapless sounding trunk, Bellow the torments that perplex thy soul. There let the winds fit sighing till they burst, Let tempest muffled with a cloud of pitch, Threaten the forests with her hellish face, And (mounted fiercely on her iron wings) Rend up the wretched engine by the roots That held my dearest Absalon to death. Then let them toss my broken Lute to heaven, Even to his hands that beats me with the strings, To show how sadly his poor shepherd sings. Thou man of blood, thou sepulchre of death, Whose marble breast entomb my bowels quick, Did I not charge thee, nay entreat thy hand, Even for my sake to spare my Absalon? And hast thou now in spite of David's health, And scorn to do my heart some happiness, Given him the sword, and spilled his purple soul? Then happy art thou David's fairest son, That freed from the yoke of earthly toils, And sequestered from sense of humane sins; Thy soul shall joy the sacred cabinet Of those divine Ideas, that present Thy changed spirit with a heaven of bliss. Then thou art gone, ah thou art gone my son To heaven I hope my Absalon is gone, Thy soul there placed in honour of the Saints Or angels clad with immortality, Shall reap a sevenfold grace, for all thy griefs, Thy eyes now no more eyes but shining stars, Shall deck the flaming heavens with novel lamps, There shalt thou taste the drink of Seraphins, And cheer thy feelings with archangels food, Thy day of rest, thy holy Sabbath day Shall be eternal, and the curtain drawn, Thou shalt behold thy sovereign face to face, With wonder knit in triple unity, Unity infinite and innumerable, Courage brave captains, Joab; tale hath stirred, And made the suit of Israel preserd. Go know, and bring her quickly to the King, Tell her, her graces hath found grace with him. Let it content my sweet son Absolon, That I may stay and take my other lords. What needs it that Ammon go with thee. Ammon shall go, and all my other lords, Because I will give grace to Absolon. Welcome Uria's from the Syrian wars, Welcome to David as his dearest lord. No other greeting shall Uria's find, As long as David's sways the elected seat, And consecrated throne of Israel. Tell me Uria's of my servant Joab Fights he with truth the battles of our God, And for the honour of the Lords anointed? Absolon and Cusay both shall drink To good Uria's, and his happiness. I will begin Uria's to thy self, And all the treasure of the Ammonites, Which here I promise to impart to thee, And bind that promise with a full carous. Fill him the cup, follow you lords that love Your sovereigns health, and do as he hath done. Do so Uria's, I will pledge thee straight. Quickly I say. I pledge thee good Uria's presently. He drinks. Now as the lord does live, this wicked man Is judged, and shall become the child of death, Four fold to the poor man shall he restore, That without mercy took his lamb away. Now clattering arms, and wrathful storms of war, Have thundered over Rabba's razed towers, The wreakefull ire of great Jehovah's arm, That for his people made the gates to rend, And clothed the Cherubins in fiery coats, To fight against the wicked Hannons town, Pay thanks you men of Juda to the King, The God of Zion and Jerusalem, That hath exalted Israel to this, And crowned David with this diadem. Woman, why mournest thou, rise from the earth, Tell me what sorrow hath befallen thy soul. Proud lust the bloodiest traitor to our souls, Whose greedy throat, nor earth, air, sea, or heaven, Can glut or satisfy with any store, Thou art the cause these torments suck my blood, Piercing with venom of thy poisoned eyes, The strength and marrow of my tainted bones: To punish Pharaoh, and his cursed host, The waters shrink at great Adonaies voice, And sandy bottom of the sea appeared, Offering his service at his servants feet, And to inflict a plague on David's sin, He makes his bowels traitors to his breast, Winding about his heart with mortal gripes. Ah Absalon the wrath of heaven inflames Thy scorched bosom with ambitious heat, And Satan sets thee on a lusty tower, Showing thy thoughts the pride of Israel Of choice to cast thee on her ruthless stones, Weep with me then you sons of Israel. Lie down with David, and with David mourn, Before the holy one that sees our hearts, Season this heavy soil with showers of tears, And fill the face of every flower with Due, Weep Israel, for David's soul dissolves, Lading the fountains of his drowned eyes, And powers her substance on the senseless earth. Joab, thy self shall for thy charge conduct, The first third partly of all my valiant men, The second shall Abisaies valour led, The third fair Ithay, which I most should grace, For comfort he hath done to David's woes, And I my self will follow in the amid. Salomon (my love) is David's lord, Or God hath named him lord of Israel In him (for that, and since he is thy son) Must David needs be pleased at the heart, And he shall surely fit upon my throne: But Absalon the beauty of my bones, Faite Absalon the counterfeit of love, Sweet Absalon, the image of content, Must claim a portion in his father's care, And be in life and death King David's son. Stand by, until some other may inform The heart of David with a happy truth. Oh Absalon, Absalon, Oh my son, my son, Would God that I had died for Absalon: But he is dead, ah dead, Absalon is dead, And David lives to die for Absalon.