"Thou return with the joyful assurance the King liveth

yet,

"Shall our lip with the honey be bright, with the water be wet.

"For out of the black mid-tent's silence, a space of three days,

"Not a sound hath escaped to thy servants, of prayer nor of praise,

"To betoken that Saul and the Spirit have ended their strife,

“And that, faint in his triumph, the monarch sinks back upon life.

II.

"Yet now my heart leaps, O beloved! God's child with his dew

"On thy gracious gold hair, and those lilies still living and blue

"Just broken to twine round thy harpstrings, as if no

wild heat

"Were now raging to torture the desert!"

III.

Then I, as was meet,

Knelt down to the God of my fathers, and rose on my

feet,

And ran o'er the sand burnt to powder. The tent was unlooped;

I pulled up the spear that obstructed, and under I stooped; Hands and knees on the slippery grass-patch, all withered and gone,

That extends to the second enclosure, I groped my way

on

Till I felt where the foldskirts fly open. Then once more I prayed,

And opened the foldskirts and entered, and was not afraid But spoke, "Here is David, thy servant!" And no voice replied.

At the first I saw nought but the blackness; but soon I descried

A something more black than the blackness-the vast, the upright

Main prop which sustains the pavilion: and slow into

sight

Grew a figure against it, gigantic and blackest of all. Then a sunbeam, that burst thro' the tentroof, showed Saul.

IV.

He stood as erect as that tent-prop, both arms stretched out wide

On the great cross-support in the centre, that goes to

each side;

He relaxed not a muscle, but hung there as, caught in his pangs

And waiting his change, the king-serpent all heavily hangs, Far away from his kind, in the pine, till deliverance come With the spring-time, so agonized Saul, drear and stark, blind and dumb.

-

V.

Then I tuned my harp,-took off the lilies we twine round its chords

Lest they snap 'neath the stress of the noontide-those sunbeams like swords!

And I first played the tune all our sheep know, as, one after one,

So docile they come to the pen-door till folding be done. They are white and untorn by the bushes, for lo, they have fed

Where the long grasses stifle the water within the stream's bed;

And now one after one seeks its lodging, as star follows

star

Into eve and the blue far above us,

-so blue and so far!

VI.

—Then the tune, for which quails on the cornland will each leave his mate

To fly after the player; then, what makes the crickets

elate

Till for boldness they fight one another: and then, what has weight

To set the quick jerboa1 a-musing outside his sand

house

There are none such as he for a wonder, half bird and half mouse!

God made all the creatures and gave them our love and our fear,

To give sign, we and they are his children, one family

here.

VII.

Then I played the help-tune of our reapers, their winesong, when hand

Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good friendship, and great hearts expand

And grow one in the sense of this world's life.-And then, the last song

When the dead man is praised on his journey-"Bear, bear him along

"With his few faults shut up like dead flowerets! Are balm-seeds not here

1 The jumping hare.

"To console us? The land has none left such as he on the bier.

"Oh, would we might keep thee, my brother!"-And then, the glad chaunt

Of the marriage,-first go the young maidens, next, she whom we vaunt

As the beauty, the pride of our dwelling.-And then, the great march

Wherein man runs to man to assist him and buttress an arch

Nought can break; who shall harm them, our friends? -Then, the chorus intoned

As the Levites go up to the altar in glory enthroned. But I stopped here: for here in the darkness Saul groaned.

VIII.

And I paused, held my breath in such silence, and listened

apart;

And the tent shook, for mighty Saul shuddered: and sparkles 'gan dart

From the jewels that woke in his turban, at once with

a start,

All its lordly male-sapphires, and rubies courageous at

heart.

So the head: but the body still moved not, still hung there erect.

And I bent once again to my playing, pursued it unchecked,

As I sang,

IX.

"Oh, our manhood's prime vigour! No spirit

feels waste,

"Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced.

"Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock,

"The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock

"Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the bear,

"And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair.

"And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine,

"And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, the full draught of wine,

"And the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell

"That the water was wont to go warbling so softly and

well.

"How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to

employ

"All the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in

joy!

"Hast thou loved the white locks of thy father, whose sword thou didst guard

"When he trusted thee forth with the armies, for glorious reward?

"Didst thou see the thin hands of thy mother, held up as men sung

"The low song of the nearly-departed, and hear her faint tongue

"Joining in while it could to the witness, 'Let one more

attest,

"I have lived, seen God's hand thro' a life-time, and all was for best'?

"Then they sung thro' their tears in strong triumph, not much, but the rest.

'And thy brothers, the help and the contest, the working whence grew