| Saul |
King of Israel. |
| Jonathan |
Heir to the throne. |
| Ishui |
His brother. |
| Samuel |
The Prophet of Israel. |
| Abner |
Captain of the Host of Israel. |
| Doeg |
An Edomite; chief servant of Saul, and suitor for Michal. |
| Adriel |
A Lord of Meholah, suitor for Merab. |
| David |
A shepherd, secretly anointed King. |
| Abishai |
A follower of David. |
| Abiathar |
A priest and follower of David. |
| A Philistine Spy. |
|
| Ahinoam |
The Queen. |
| Merab |
Daughters of Saul and Ahinoam. |
| Michal |
| Miriam |
A blind prophetess, and later the "Witch of Endor." |
| Judith |
Timbrel-players of the King. |
| Leah |
| Zilla |
| Adah |
Handmaiden to Merab. |
| |
A Chorus of Women. A Band of Priests. Followers of David. Soldiers of Saul. People of the Court, &c. |
DAVID
Scene: A Hall of Judgment in the palace of Saul at Gibeah.
The walls and pillars of cedar are richly carven—with
serpents, pomegranates, and cherubim in gold. The floors are
of bright marble; the throne of ivory hung with a lion's
skin whose head is its footstool. On the right, by the
throne, and on the left are doors to other portions of the
palace; they are draped with woven curtains of purple and
white. In the rear, which is open and supported on
pillars, a porch crosses a court. Through the porch, on the
environing hills, glow the camp-fires of the Philistines, the
enemies of Israel. Lamps in the Hall burn low, and on the
floor Judith, Leah and Zilla are reclining restively.
Judith (springing to her feet impatiently). O for a feast, pomegranate wine and song!
Leah. Oh! Oh!
Zilla. A feast indeed! the men in camp!
When was a laugh or any leaping here?
Never; and none to charm with timbreling!
Leah. What shall we do?
Judith. I'll dance.
Zilla. Until you're dead.
Judith. Or till a youth wed Zilla for her beauty?
I'll not soil mine with sullen fear all day
Because these Philistines press round. As well
Be wenches gathering grapes or wool! Come, Leah.
Leah. No, Judith, I'll put henna on my nails,
And mend my anklet.
Zilla (at the curtains). Oh! Oh! Oh!
Judith. Now, hear her!
Who, who, now? who, who is it? dog, fox, devil?
Zilla. All!
Judith. Then 'tis Ishui! (Bounding to curtains.) Yes, Ishui!
And fury in him, sallow, souring fury!
A jackal were his mate! Come, come, we'll plague him.
Zilla. Shall we—with David whom he hates?
Judith. Aie, David!
The joy of rousing men to jealousy!
Leah. Why hates he David, Zilla?
Zilla. Stupid Leah!
Judith. Hush, hush, be meet and ready now; he's near.
Look as for silly visions and for dreams!
(They pose. Ishui entering sees them. Judith sighs.)
Ishui. Now, timbrel-gaud, why gape you here?
Judith. O! 'tis
Prince Ishui!
Zilla. Prince Ishui! Then he
Will tell us! he will tell us!
Leah. Yes!
Judith. Of David!
O, is he come? when, where?—quick, quick. And will
He pluck us ecstasies out of his harp,
Winning until we're wanton for him, mad,
And sigh and laugh and weep to the moon?
Ishui. Low thing!
Chaff of the king!
Judith. The king! I had not thought!
David a king! how beauteous would he be!
Ishui. David?
Judith. Turban of sapphire! robe of gold!
Ishui. A king? o'er Israel?
Judith. Who, who can tell?
Have you not heard? Yesterday in the camp,
Among war-old but fearful men, he offered
Kingly to meet Goliath—great Goliath!
Ishui. What do you say? to meet Goliath?
Judith (laughing in his face). Aie!
(Thrust from him, she goes, dancing with Zilla and Leah.)
Adriel (who has entered). Ishui, in a rage?
Ishui. Should I not be?
Adriel. Not would you be yourself.
Ishui. Not? (Deftly.) You say well.
I should not, no. Pardon then, Adriel.
Adriel. What was the offence?
Ishui. Turn from it: I have not
Bidden you here for vapours ... tho' they had
Substance as well for you!
Adriel. For me?
Ishui. Who likes
Laughter against him?
Adriel. I was laughed at?
Ishui. Why,
It is this shepherd!
Adriel. David?
Ishui. With his harp!
Flinging enchantment on the palace air
Till he impassions to him all who breathe.
Adriel. What sting from that? He's lovable and brave.
Ishui. Lovable? lovable?
Adriel. I do not see.
Ishui. This, then: you've hither come with gifts and gold,
Dream-bringing amethyst and weft of Ind,
To wed my sister, Merab?
Adriel. It is so.
Ishui. And you've the king's consent; but she denies?
Adriel. As every wind, you know it.
Ishui. Still denies!
And you, lost in the maze of her, fare on
Blindly and find no reason for it!
Adriel. How?
What reason can be? women are not clear;
And least unto themselves.
Ishui. Or to their fools.
(Goes to curtain, draws out Adah.)
Your mistress, Merab, girl, whom does she love?
Unclench your hands.
Adah. I hate her.
Ishui. Insolent!
Answer; I am not milky Jonathan,
Answer; and for the rest—You hear?
Adah. She loves—
The shepherd David!
Adriel. Who, girl?
Adah. I care not!
She is unkind; I will not spy for her
On Michal, and I'll tell her secrets all!
And David does not love her—and she raves.
Ishui. Off to your sleep; be off—
Ishui (gnashingly). Then see you now how "lovable" he is?
I tell you that he stands athwart us all!
The heart of Merab swung as a censer to him,
My seat at table with the king usurped!
Mildew and mocking to the harp of Doeg
As it were any slave's; the while we all
Are lepered with suspicion.
Adriel. Of the king?
Ishui. Ah! and of Jonathan and Michal.
Adriel. Hush.
(Enter Michal, passing, with Miriam.)
Michal, delay. Whom lead you?
Michal. Miriam,
A prophetess.
Adriel. How of the king to-night?
Michal. He's not at rest; dreads Samuel's prophecy
The throne shall pass from him, and darkens more
Against this boundless Philistine Goliath
Who dares at Israel daily on the hills,
As we were dogs!
Adriel. Is David with him?
Michal. No;
But he is sent for—and will ease him—Ah!
He's wonderful to heal the king with his harp!
A waft, a sunny leap of melody,
And swift the hovering mad shadow's gone—
As magic!
Ishui. Michal.... Curst!
Michal. What anger's this?
Ishui. Disdaining Doeg and his plea to dust,
His waiting and the winning o'er of Edom,
You are enamoured of this David too?
Michal. I think my brother Ishui hath a fever.
(She goes, calmly, with Miriam.)
Ishui. Now are you kindled—are you quivering,
Or must this shepherd put upon us more?
Adriel. But has he not dealt honourably?
Ishui. No.
Adriel. Why do you urge it?
Ishui. Why have senses. He
With Samuel the prophet fast enshrouds
Some secret, and has Samuel not told
The kingdom from my father shall be rent
And fall unto one another?
Adriel. You are certain?
Ishui. As granite.
(Voices are heard in altercation.)
Yonder!
Adriel. The king?
Ishui. And Samuel
With prophecy or some refusal tears him!
(They step aside. Saul, followed by Samuel, strides in and
mounts the throne.)
Saul. You threat, and ever thunder threatening!
Pour seething prophecy into my veins,
Till a simoon of madness in me moves.
Am I not king, the king? chosen and sealed?
Who've been anathema and have been bane
Unto the foes of Israel, and filled
The earth with death of them?
And do you still forbid that I bear gold
And bribe away this Philistine array
Folded about us, fettering with flame?
Samuel. Yes,—yes! While there is air—and awe of Heaven
Do I forbid! A champion must rise
To level this Goliath. Thus may we
Loose on them pest of panic and of fear.
Saul. Are forty days not dead? A champion!
None will arise—'tis vain. And I'll not wait
On miracle.
Samuel. Offer thy daughter, then,
Michal, thy fairest, to whoever shall.
Saul. Demand and drain for more! without an end.
Ever vexation! No; I will not.
Samuel. Then,
Out of Jehovah and a vast foreseen
I tell thee again, thou perilous proud king,
The sceptre shall slip from thee to another!
Saul. The sceptre....
Samuel. To another!
Saul. From me! No!
You rouse afar the billowing of ill.
I grant—go not!—I grovel to your will,
Fear it and fawn as to omnipotence,
(Snatching at Samuel's mantle.)
And vow to all its divination—all!
Samuel. Then, Saul of Israel, the hour is near,
When shall arise one, and Goliath fall!
(Goes slowly out by the porch, Saul sinks back.)
Ishui (after a pause, keenly). Oh,—subtle!
Saul. Thus he sways me.
Ishui. Subtle!—subtle!
And yet I must not speak; come, Adriel,
No use of us is here.
Saul. Use? subtle? Stand!
Ishui. No, father, no.
Saul. What mean you?
Ishui. Do not ask....
Yet how it creeps, and how!
Saul. Unveil your words.
Ishui. Do you not see it crawl, this serpent scheme?
Goliath slain—the people mad with praise,
Then fallen from you—Michal the victor's wife....
Saul. Say on, say on.
Ishui. Or else the champion slain—
Fear on the people—panic—the kingdom's ruin!
Saul. Now do the folds slip from me.
Ishui. And you see?
Ah, then, if one arise? If one arise?
Saul. Death, death! If he hath touched this prophet—if
Merely a little moment!—
Ishui. I have seen
Your David with him.
Saul. Death! if —— Come here: David?
Ishui. In secret.
Saul. Say you?
Ishui. Yes.
Saul. The folds slip further;
To this you lead me—hatred against David!
To this with supple envy's easy glide!
Ishui. I have but told——
Saul. You have but builded lies,
As ever you are building and for ever.
I'll hear no more against him—Abner!—no.
David, and with his harp.
Abner. My lord——
Saul. Not come?
He is not come? Forever he delays!
Abner. Time's yet to pass.
Saul. There is not. Am I king?
See you, 'tis he!... 'Tis David!... And he sings!
David (bravely, within).
Smiter of Hosts,
Terrible Saul!
Vile on the hills shall he laugh who boasts
None is among
Great Israel's all
Fearless for Saul, King Saul!
(Entering with people of the palace.)
Aye, is there none
Galled of the sting,
Will at the soul of Goliath run?
Wring it and up
To his false gods fling?...
None for the king, the king?
(He drops to his knee, amid praise, before the throne.)
Saul (darkening). Forego this praise and stand
Away from him; 'tis overmuch.
(To David.) Why have
You dallied and delayed?
David. My lord, delayed?
Saul. Do not smile wonder, mocking!
David. Why, my lord,
I do not mock. Only the birds have wings.
Yet on the vales behind me I have left
Haste and a swirl, a wonderment of air,
And in the torrent's troubled vein amaze,
So swift I hurried hither at your urgence
Out of the fields and folding the far sheep!
Saul. You have not; you have dallied. (Motions rest out.) You have dallied.
(Comes down indeterminately.)
And now——
David. And now the king with darkness foams,
With sheeted passions like to lightning gusts.
Shall I not play to him?
Saul. You shall not, no.
I'll not be lulled.
David. But show a tiger gleam?
Terrible fury stealing from the heart
And crouching cold within the eye, O Saul?
Saul. I'll not endure. They say that you——
David. They say?
What is this ravage in you? Does the truth
So limpid overflow in palaces?
Never an enemy to venom it?
Am I not David, faithful, and thy friend?
Saul. I'll slay you and regretless.
David (unmoving). Slay, my lord?
Saul. Do you not fear? And brave me to my breast?
David. Have I done wrong that I should fear the king?
Reed as I am, could he not breathe and break?
And I should be oblivion at a word!
But under the terror of his might have I
Not seen his heart beat justice and beat love?
See, even now!...
Saul. I will not listen to them!
David. To whom, my lord, and what?
Saul. Ever they say,
"This David," and "This David!"
David. Ah, my harp!
Saul. But think you, David, I shall lose the kingdom?
David (starting). My lord!...
Saul. Pain in your eyes? you think it? Deem
I cannot overleap this destiny?
David. To that let us not verge; it has but ill.
Deeper the future gulf is for our fears.
Forget it. Forget the brink may ever gape,
And wield the throne so well that God Himself
Must not unking you, more than He would cry
The morning star from Heaven! Then, I swear it,
None else will!
Saul. Swear?
David. Nay, nay!
Saul. You swear?
David. But words,
Foolishly from the heart; a shepherd speech!
Give them no mood; but see, see yonder fires
Camping upon the peace of Israel,
As we were carrion beneath the sun!
Let us conceive annihilation on them,
Hurricane rush and deluging and ruin.
Saul. Ah, but the prophecy! the prophecy!
It eats in me the food of rest and ease.
And David, nearer: Samuel in my stead
Another hath anointed.
David. Saul, not this!
This should not fall to me, my lord; no more!
You cannot understand; it pains beyond
All duty and enduring!
Saul. Pains beyond...?
Who is he? know you of him? do you? know you?
You sup the confidence of Samuel?
I'll search from Nile to Nineveh——
David. My lord!
Saul. Mountain and desert, wilderness and sea,
Under and over, search—and find.
David. Peace, peace!
Michal. O father, father! David! Listen!... Why
All here is dark and quivering as pain,
And a foreboding binds me ere I breathe!
David, you have not been as sun to him!
David. But Michal will be now.
Saul. Child, well, what then?
Michal. Father, a secret! Oh, and it will make
Dawn and delight in you!
Saul. Perhaps; then, well?
Michal. Oh, I have heard...!
Saul. Have heard!—Why do you pale?
(She stands unaccountably moved.)
Now are you Baal-bit?
David. Michal!
Michal (in terror). David!... the dread
What does it mean? I cannot speak! It shrinks
Shivering down upon my heart in awe!
David. And numbs you so?—Let it rush from your lips!
Can any moving in the world so bring
Terror upon you! Speak, what is it?
Michal. Ah!
I know not; danger rising and its wing
Sudden against my lips!
David. To warn?
Michal. It shall not!
There—now again flows joy: I think it flows.
Saul. Then—you have heard...?
Michal. Yes, father, yes! Have you
Not much desired discovery of whom
Samuel hath anointed?
Saul. Well?
Michal. I've found——
Almost have found! A prophetess to-day
Hath told me that he is a——
Sudden and senseless!
Michal. David!—No!
Saul. God! God!
Have I not bidden swiftly! Ever then
Vexation? I could—Ah. Will she not speak!
Michal. I cannot.
Saul. Cannot! Are you flesh of me?
David. My lord, not anger! Hear me ...
Saul. Cannot?
David. Hear!
Her lips could never seal upon a wrong.
Sudden divinity is on them, silence
Sent for the benison of Israel,
Else were it shattered by her love to you!
Believe, in all the riven realm of duty
There's no obedience from thee she would hold.
If it seem other——
Abner. Pardon, O king. A word.
Saul. I will not. Do you come with vexing too?
Abner. The Philistines—some fury is afoot;
A spy's within our gates—and scorns to speak.
Saul. Conspiracy of silence!... Back to him.
(To David and Michal.) But you—I'll not forget.
I'll not forget.
(Goes trembling, his look bent backward still upon them.)
David (casting off gloom, then joyful). Forget! anointing peril! What are they all?
Michal!—for me you have done this, for me?
I'm swung with joy as palms of Abila!
A princess, you! and warm within your veins
Live sympathy and all love unto your father,
Yet you have shielded me?
Michal. You are the anointed?
David. I am—oh, do not flint your loveliness!—
I am the anointed, but all innocent
In will or hope of any envious wrong,
As lily blowing of blasphemy! as dew
Upon it is of enmity!
Michal. Anointed!
You whom the king uplifted from the fields!
David. And who am ever faithful to him!
Michal. You,
Whom Jonathan loves more than women love!
David. Yet reaches not my love to Jonathan!
Michal. You—you!
David. But, hear me!
Michal. You, of all!
David. O hear!
Of my anointing Jonathan is 'ware,
Knows it is holy, helpless, innocent
As dawn or a drift of dreaming in the night!
Knows it unsought—out of the skies—supernal—
From the inspirèd cruse of Samuel!
For Israel it dripped upon me, and
For Israel must drip until I die!
Or till high Gath and Askalon are blown
Dust on the wind, and all Philistia
Lie peopleless and still under the stars!...
Goliath, then, a laughter evermore!...
Still, still you shrink? do you not see, not feel?
Michal. So have you breathed yourself about my heart,
Even as moonlit incense, spirit flame
Burning away all barrier!
David. But see!
Michal. And all the world has streamed a rapture in,
Till even now my lids from anger falter
And the dew falls!
David. Restrain! O do not weep!
Upon my heart each tear were as a sea
Flooding it from all duty but the course
Of thy delight!
Michal. Poor, that I should have tears!
Fury were better, tempest! O weak eyes,
When 'tis my father, and with Samuel
You creep to steal his kingdom!
David. Michal!... God!
Michal. Yes, steal it!
David. Cruel! fell accusal! Yea,
Utterly false and full of wounding!
(Struggling, then with control.) Yet,
Forgive that even when thy arrows sink
Deeper than all the skill of time can draw,
I spare thee not the furrowed face of pain ...
Delirious wings of hope that fluttered up,
At last to fall!
Michal. David!
David. Farewell!
Michal. ... You must not!
David. Peace to you, peace and joy!
Michal. You must not go!
(He turns. She sways and reaches to him her arms.
As they move together Doeg and Merab appear, but
vanish from the curtains as Michal utters dismay.)
Michal. Merab and Doeg!
David (has sprung to her). Yet what matter, now!
Were it the driven night-unshrouded dead!
Under the firmament is but one need,
That you will understand!
Michal. But Merab! ah,
She's cunning, cold and cruel, and she loves thee;
Hath told her love to Ahinoam the queen!
And Doeg hates thee—since for me he's mad!
David. Then be his hate as wild, as wide as winds
That gather up the desert for their blast,
Be it as Sheol deep, stronger than stars
That fling fate on us, and I care not, care not,
If I am trusted and to Michal truth!
Hear, hear me! for the kingdom, tho 't may come,
I yearn not; but for you!
Michal. No, no!
David. For you!
Since I a shepherd o'er a wild of hills
First beheld you the daughter of the king
Amid his servants, leaning, still with noon,
Beautiful under a tamarisk, until
All beauty else is dead——
Michal. Ah, cease!
David. Since then
I have been wonder, ecstasy and dream!
The moulded light and fragrant miracle,
Body of you and soul, lifted me till
When you departed——
Michal. No, you rend me!
David. I
Fell thro' infinity of void!
Michal. No more!
David. Then came the prophet Samuel with anointing!
My hope sprung as the sun!
Michal. I must not hear!
David. Then was I called to play before the king.
Here in this hall where cherubim shine out,
Where the night silence——
Michal. David!
David. Strung me tense,
I waited, shepherd-timid, and you came,
You for the king to try my skill! you, you!
Michal. Leave me, ah leave! I yield!
David. And often since
Have we not swayed and swept thro' happy hours,
Far from the birth unto the bourne of bliss?
Michal. And I——
David. To-night you did not to the king
Reveal my helpless chrism, give me to peril.
Say but the reason!
Michal. David!
David. Speak, O speak!
Michel. And shall I, shall I? how this prophetess
Miriam hath foretold——
David. Some wonder? speak!
Michal (springs up the throne, then down). No, no! horror in me moans out against it.
Wed me with destiny against my father?
Dethrone my mother? Ah!
David. Not that—no wrong!
Michal. Then swear conspiracy upon its tide
Never shall lift you!
David. Deeper than soul or sea,
Deep as divinity is deep, I swear.
If it shall come, the kingdom——
Michal. "If!" not "if."
Surrender this anointing! Spurn it, say
You never will be king though Israel
Kingless go mad for it!
David. I cannot.
Michal. Guile!
David. I cannot—and I must not. It is holy!
Michal. Then must I hate you—scorn you——
David. Michal!
Michal. And will.
But to reign over Israel you care,
Not for the peace of it!
David. Thus all is vain;
A seething on the lips, I'll say no more....
Care but to reign and not for Israel's calm?
I who am wounded with her every wound?...
Look out upon yon Philistine bold fires
Lapping the night with bloody tongue—look out!
(A commotion is heard within.)
As God has swung the world and hung for ever
The infinite in awe, to-morrow night
Not one of them shall burn!
Michal. You pall me!
David. None!
Michal. What is this strength! It seizes on me! No,
I'll not believe; no, no, more than I would
From a boy's breath or the mere sling you wear
A multitude should flee! And you shall learn
A daughter to a father may be true
Tho' paleness be her doom until she die!
(She turns to go. Enter Jonathan eagerly.)
Jonathan. David!
David. My friend—my Jonathan! 'Tis you?
(They embrace. Michal goes.)
Jonathan. Great heart, I've heard how yesterday before
The soldiers you.... But Michal's gone! No word?
David. The anointing.
Jonathan. Ah, she knows?
David. All.
Jonathan. And disdains
Believing? tell me.
David. No, not now—not now.
Let me forget it in a leap of deeds.
(The commotion sounds again.)
For there is murmur misty of distress,
What is it? sprung of the Philistines? new terror?
This sounding giant flings again his foam?
Jonathan, I am flame that will not wait.
What is it? I must strike.
Jonathan. David....
David. Tell me,
And do not bring dissuasion more, or pause.
Jonathan. The king comes here.
David. Now?
Jonathan. With a spy who keeps
Fiercely to silence.
David. Then is peril up!
Jonathan...!
Jonathan. David, you must cool from this.
Determination surges you o'erfar.
I will not see you rush on perishing,
Not though it be the aid of Israel.
David. I must.... I will not let them ever throng,
Staining the hills, and starving us from peace.
Rather the last ray living in me, rather
Death and the desecration of the worm.
Bid me not back with love, nor plea; I must!
Jonathan. But think——
David. No thought!
Jonathan. 'Twere futile—
David. Hear; the king!
Jonathan. The madness of it!
David. No, and see; they come.
Jonathan. Strangely my father is unstrung.
David. They come.
(Enter Saul, with Samuel; soldiers with the spy, Ahinoam
with Abner; and all the court in suppressed dread.)
Saul (to Samuel). He will not speak, but scorns me, and his lips
Bitterly curve and grapple. But he shall
Learn there is torture to it! Set him forth.
(The spy is thrust forward.)
Tighten his bonds up till he moan.
Aye, gasp,
Accursed Philistine! Now wilt thou tell
The plan and passion of the people 'gainst us?
Spy. Baal!
Saul. Tighten the torture more.... Now will you?
Spy (in agony). Yea!
Saul. On, then, reveal.
Spy. New forces have arrived,
Numberless; more than peaks of Arabah.
(General movement of uneasiness.)
Unless before to-morrow's moon one's sent
To overthrow Goliath ... Gods! the pain!
Saul. Well? Well?
Spy. Then Gibeah attacked, and all,
Even to sucking babes, they'll put to sword!
Ahinoam. All Gibeah!
A Woman. My little ones! No, no!
(She rushes frantically out.)
Samuel. Then, Saul of Gibeah, one thing and one
Alone is to be done. A champion,
To break this beetling giant down to death!
Saul. There is none.
Samuel. Is none! Call! I order it.
Saul. Then who will dare against him!
(A silence.) See you now.
Samuel. You, Abner, will not?
Abner. It were death and vain.
Samuel. Doeg, chief servant of the king?
Doeg. Why me?
Had I a mother out of Israel?
I am an alien, an Edomite.
David. My lord, this is no more endurable!
Futile and death? Alien? Edomite?
Has not this Philistine before the gates,
With insult and illimitable breath
Vaunting of vanity and smiting laughter,
Boasted and braved and threatened up to Baal?
And now unless one slay him, Israel
From babe to age must bleed and be no more!
I am a shepherd, have but seized the lion
And throttled the bleating kid out of his throat;
Little it then beseems that I thrust in
Where battle captains pale and falter off;
But this is past all carp of rank or station.
One must go out—Goliath must have end.
Doeg. Ah, ah! and you will!
Ishui. You?
Jonathan. No, David!
Saul. You?
David. Sudden you hound about me ravenous?
Have I thrown doom not daring to your feet,
Ruler of Israel, that you rise wild,
Livid above me as an avalanche?
Doeg. A plot! it is a plot! He will be slain—
From you, my lord, dominion then will fall!
Or should it not ...
Samuel. Liar! it is no plot.
But courage sprung seraphic out of night,
Beautiful, yea, a bravery from God!
Michal (behind the throng). Open! and let me enter! Open!
Father!
It is not false? but now, the uttermost?
To-morrow, if Goliath still exult,
There's peril of desolation, bloody ruin?
Samuel. I answer for him; yea.
Michal. Then to your will,
Father, unto will of yesterday
I bend me now with sacrificial joy.
Unto Goliath's slayer is the hand
Of Michal, the king's daughter!
David (joyously). Michal! Michal!
Doeg. See you, my lord? Do you not understand?
Ishui. It is another coiling of their plot!
Michal. Coiling of plot? What mean you?
Merab. Ah! You know
Not it is David offers against Goliath?
Michal. David? (Shrinking.) David?
(A low tumult is heard without. Enter a Captain hurriedly.)
Captain. O King, bid me to speak!
Saul. Then speak!
Captain. Fear is upon the host. There will
Be mutiny unless, Goliath slain,
Courage spring up anew.
David. My lord, then, choose!
Ere longer waiting fester to disaster.
Samuel. Yea, king of Gibeah, and bid him go,
And Michal for his meed! or evermore
Evil be on you and the sear of shame—
And haunting memory beyond the tomb!
Saul. Then let him—let him. And upon the field
Of Ephes-Dammin. But I am not blind!
Let him, to-morrow! Go prepare the host.
Yet—I am king, remember! I am king!
(Saul goes; murmurs of relief ... All follow, but Michal,
past David with joy or hate.)
(She struggles against tears, but, turning, goes. He stands
and gazes after her. Then a trumpet sounds and
soldiers throng to the porch.)
David (thrilled, his hand on his sling). For Israel! For Israel!
Curtain.
Scene.—The royal tent of Saul pitched on one hill of the battlefield
of Ephes-Dammin. The tent is of black embroidered
with various warlike designs. To one side on a daïs are
the chairs of Saul and Ahinoam; also David's harp. On
the other side, toward the front, is a table with weapons.
The tent wall is lifted along the back, revealing on the opposite
hill, across a deep narrow valley, the routed camp of the
Philistines; before it in gleaming brazen armour lies Goliath
slain. Other hills beyond, and the sky above. By the small
table, her back to the battlefield, sits Merab in cold anger.
Ahinoam and several women look out in ecstasy toward
David, Saul, Jonathan, and the army, returning victorious,
and shouting.
First Woman. See, see, at last!
Second Woman. They come!
Third Woman. An avalanche!
Over the brook and bright amid hosannas!
Second Woman. And now amid the rushes!
First Woman. And the servants!
Goliath's head high-borne upon a charger!
The rocks that cry reverberant and vast!
The people and the palms!
Third woman. Yea, all the branches
Torn from the trees! The waving of them—O!
Second Woman. And David, see! triumphant, calm, between
The king and Jonathan!... His glory
All the wild generations of the wind
Ever shall utter! Hear them—
(The tumult ascends afar.) "David! David!"
O queen! a sea of shouting!
Ahinoam. Which you crave?
Then go and lave you in this tide of joy.
(The women go rapturously. Ahinoam turns.)
Merab. Mother!
Ahinoam. My daughter?
Merab. Well?
Ahinoam. They all are gone.
Merab. And Michal, where?
Ahinoam. I do not know, my child.
Merab. Why did my father pledge her to him? you
Not hindering?
Ahinoam. She is your sister. You
Are pledged to Adriel.
Merab. And as a slave!
And if I do not love him there is—riches!
If he is Sodom-bitter to me—riches!
Ahinoam. But for the kingdom.
Merab. For my torture! What
Kingdom is to a woman as her love?
Ahinoam. And David still enthralls you?
Merab. Though he never
Sought me with any murmur or desire!
Though he is Michal's for Goliath's death!
Michal's to-day, unless——
Ahinoam. Merab, a care!
Too near in you were ever love and hate.
(The tumult nears. Ahinoam goes to look out. Doeg enters
to Merab.)
Doeg (low). News, Merab!
Merab. Well?
Doeg. A triumph o'er him, yet!
The king is worn, as a leper pent, between
Wonder of David and quick jealousy
Because of praise this whelming of Goliath
Wakes in the people.
Merab. Then? the triumph?
Doeg. This.
I've skilfully disposed the women
To coldly sing of Saul, but of our David
With lavish of ecstasy as to a king.
Merab (springing up). Then I will praise him!
Doeg. David? you?
Merab. As he
Was never—and shall never be again.
Doeg. But——
Merab. Give me the phial.
Doeg. The poison?
Merab. Come—at once!
Doeg. What will you do?
Merab (seizes phial). At once with it.
Doeg. You'll stab him?
Merab. As any fool? Wait. And the rest now, quick.
This timbrel-player, Judith?
Doeg. She is ready
And ravishing!
Merab. Well, well; then—?
Doeg. We will send her
Sudden, as Michal is alone with David,
To seize him with insinuative kisses,
And arms that wind as they were wonted to him.
Michal once jealous—and already I
Have sowed suspicions——
Merab. May it be their rending.
But come, come, we must see; and show no frown.
(They go to look out. Shouts of "David! David!" arise,
and timbrelers, dancing and singing, pass the tent
opening; then priests with the Ark and its cherubim of
gold. David, Saul, Jonathan, Ishui, and the
court then enter amid acclamations. Before them the
head of Goliath is borne on a charger, under a napkin.
Saul darkly mounts the throne with Ahinoam, to
waving of palms and praise.)
A Woman (breaking from the throng). Our little ones are saved! Hosannah! joy!
(She kisses David's hand.)
Jonathan. Woman, thy tongue should know an angel-word,
Or seraph syllables new-sung to God!
Earth has not any rapture well for this!
David, my brother!
David. Jonathan, my friend!
While life has any love, know mine for you.
Jonathan. Then am I friended as no man was ever!
And though my soul were morning wide it were
Helpless to hold my wonder and delight!
O people, look upon him!
People. David! David!
Jonathan. Never before in Israel rose beauty
Up to this glory!
David. Jonathan, nay——
Jonathan. Never!
(Looses his robe and girdle.)
Therefore I pour him splendour passionate.
In gold and purple, this my own, I clothe him.
David, my brother!
Saul (livid). Brother!
Ahinoam. Saul?
Saul. Thou fool!
Jonathan. Father?
Ahinoam. My lord?
Saul. Thou full-of-lauding fool!
Of breath and ravishment unceasing!
Ahinoam. Saul!
Saul. Is it not praise enough, has he not reached
The skies on it?
David. O king, my lord——
Saul. Had Saul
Ever so rich a rapture from his son?
Ever this worshipping of utterance?
David. My lord, my lord, this should not fret you.
Doeg (derisively). Nay!
David. 'Tis only that the soul of Jonathan,
Brimmed by the Philistines with bitterness,
Sudden is joy and overfloweth——
Doeg. Fast——
David. Upon his friend, thy servant, David.
Doeg. Aie!
(He turns away laughing.)
Saul. Why do you laugh?
Doeg. "Thy servant David!"
Saul. Why!
A Woman (without). King Saul has slain his thousands!
Doeg. Why, my lord?
Woman. But David his ten thousands!
Doeg. Do you hear?
King Saul has slain his thousands, David ten!
Thy servant, is he? servant?
David. Yea, O king!...
Therefore be wielded by no venom-word,
As a weed under the wind!
Saul. 'Tis overmuch!
I'll burst all bond of priest or prophesy.
Nor cringe to threatening and fondle fear.
I'll smite where'er I will.
David. No!
Jonathan. Father!
David. No!
For rapid palsy would come on thy hand,
Awful and sceptre-ruined lord of men,
An impotence, a shrivelling with fear,
Avenging ere thou shed offenceless blood!
Is this thy love, the love of Saul the king,
Who once was kindlier than kindest are?
For but a woman's wantonness of word
And idle air, my life?
Ahinoam. Saul, Saul!
Jonathan. The shame!
David. Some enemy—does Doeg curve his lip?—
Hath put into her mouth this stratagem
Of fevered, false-impassioned overpraise.
(Saul, tortured, sweeps from the tent, entreated of Jonathan.
Many follow in doubt, whispering.)
Doeg (at door, to David). This is not all, boy out of Bethlehem.
Goliath's dead——
David. But not all villainy?
(Only Michal and Merab are left with David; he
waits.)
Merab (after a pause, then as if in shame). I burn for it!
David. For what, and suddenly?
Merab. My father so ungenerously wroth!
And wrought away from recompense so right.
Can you forgive him?
David. Merab?
Merab. Is it strange
That even I now ask it?
David. Merab's self?
Merab. Herself and not to-day your friend; but now
Conquered to exultation and aglow
To wreathe you for this might to Israel,
Beautiful, unbelievable and bright!
Noble the dawn of it was in your dream,
Noble the lightning of it in your arm,
And noble in your veins the fearless flow
And dare of blood!—so noble that I ask
As a remembrance and bequest for ever,
In priceless covenant of peace between us,
A drop of it——
(She draws dagger and offers it to him.)
Upon this sacred blade ...
David. Such kindness? in all honour?
Merab. Poor requital
To one whose greatness humbles me from hate.
David (slowly). Then of my veins whatever drop you will
But, no ... (Pauses.) You do not mock me?
Merab. Rather upon
Its edge one vein of you—than priceless nard.
David. Or perfume out of India jewel poured?
Or than—I may believe?—a miracle
Of dew, were you a traveller upon
The illimitable desert's thirst? Or than—
(He draws his own dagger, pricks his wrist, and hands it her.)
Than this?
Merab. Shepherd!
David (quickly). Treachery? treachery, then?
Under a sham of tribute poison?
Michal. Poison?
David. And I of vanity should prick it in?
I a mere shepherd innocent of wile!
A singer music-maudled and no more?...
The daughter of King Saul has yet to learn.
(She goes. He turns to Michal.)
But you, fairest of all my hopes, what word!
The vaunting of this victory is done.
We are alone at last.
Michal. Yes.
David. That is all?...
For Israel I've wrought to-day—and for
You, ever round about me as a mist
Of armèd mighty angels triumphing.
Michal. Yes: It was well.
David. To you no more? to you
Whom not a slave can serve unhonoured?
Michal (struggling). Nothing.
David. Empty of glow then seems it, impotent,
A shrivelled hallowing ...
Ashes of ecstasy that burned in vain.
Michal. No, no! I——
David. Michal?
Michal. No, divine it was!
And had I cried my praise the ground had broke
To Eden under me with blossoming.
Where was so wonderful a deed as this,
So fair a springing of salvation up?
Glory above the heavens could I seize,
Wreathing of dawn and loveliness unfading,
To crown you with and crown!
David. O lips!
Michal. With but
A sling, a shepherd's sling, you sped the brook,
Drew from its bed a stone, and up the hill
Where the great Philistine contemning cried,
Mounted and flung it deep upon his brain!
David. This is the victory and not his death!
Tell, tell thy joy with kisses on my lips!
Thy mouth! thy arms! thy breast!
Michal. No no!
David. Thy soul!
Too much of waiting and of severance,
Of dread and distance and the deep of doubt!
Now must I fold you, falter all my love
And triumph on your senses till they burn
Beautiful to eternity with bliss.
Michel. Loose, loose me!
David. Nay, again! immortal kisses!
Michal. A frenzy, 'tis a frenzy! From me! see!
This irremediable victory
Over Goliath severs us the more.
(The tumult, again, afar.)
Hear how the people lift you limitless!
Almost to-day and in my father's room
They would that you were king.
David. But ere to-morrow
Dim shall I be, and ere the harvest bend
Less than a gleam in their forgotten peril!
Michal. O were it, were it! But all silently
Jehovah fast is beckoning the realm
Into thy hands.
David. Then futile to resist
The gliding on of firm divinity.
And yet whatever may be shall be done.
Michal. All, all?
David. That for thee reverently may.
Michal. That anointing, then——
David. Of that!... not that!
Michal. Yet grant
It may be told my father; that I may
Say to him all the secret!
David. And provoke
Murder in him, insatiable though
I fled upon the wilderness and famine?
Michal. He would not!
David. Nay.
Michal. I'll plead with him.
David. In vain.
Michal (coldly). Then ... it is as I thought.
David. You are distraught.
Michal. This stroke to-day (pointing to Goliath's head) no love of me had in it.
David. A love, a passion fervid through me as
The tread and tremble of seraphic song
Along the infinite.
Michal. You use me!
David. Use?
Michal. A step to rise and riot in ambition!
David. So bitter are you, blind? even in all?
Michal. You snared me to you!
David. Michal!
Michal. Cunningly
With Samuel netted fears about my father,
Till I am paltrily unto you pledged.
David. Enough.
Michal. Too much.
David. No more: the pledge I fling
Out of my heart, as 'twere enchantment dead,
And free you; but no more.
Michal. As if it were
Enchantment dead.... Ah then 'tis true—there is
Another—is another!
David. Now, what fever?
A gentleness clad once your every grace.
Michal. There is some other that you lure and love.
David. It is not Michal speaking; so I wait.
Michal. Then you will learn.... Who's that?
(To her.) Why are you here?
Judith (to David, with a laugh, as if with amorous joy).
Brave, it was brave, my love! beauteous! brave!
David. Woman?
Judith. The Philistine, a brazen tower,
A bastion of strength, fell to the earth!
David. Woman, who are you?
(She clasps and kisses him.)
Take away your flesh.
(Free.) Take it away, the heat and myrrh of it.
Judith. So cold?
David. Hireling!
Judith. It is no longer fair?
(Wantonly.) Oh! Ah! I understand! the princess! Oh!
(Goes laughing and shaking her timbrel wickedly.)
Michal. A dancer, then, a very timbrel-player!
David. Until this hour I never looked upon her.
It is chicanery of chance or craft.
You who are noble, though in doubt adrift,
Be noble now!
Michal. And loving? Oh, I will—
Now that I know what should be done. Be sure!
David. You mean ... that Saul——? You would not, no!
Michal. Rest sure.
(A hand is seen at the door. Ahinoam enters.)
Ahinoam. David, the king ... But what is this?
David. O queen ...
It is but life.
Ahinoam. Nay.
David. Life that ever strings
Our hearts, so pitifully prone for it,
To ecstasy—then snaps.
Ahinoam. I love thee, David.
David. Then gracious be, and question here no more,
Where words are futile for an utterance.
But of the king—the king——?
Ahinoam. He's driven still.
And hither comes again, and must be calmed.
The harp take you, and winds of beauty bring,
And consolation, as of valley eves
When there is ebb of sorrow and of toil.
Oh, could you heal him and for ever heal!
David. Then would I be——!
(Breaks off with great desire. Takes the harp and seats
himself.)
Ahinoam. At once, for he will come.
(A strain of wild sadness brings Saul, and many, within.
He pauses, his hand to his brow, enspelled of the playing;
then slowly goes up the daïs.)
Ahinoam. My lord, shall David sing—to ease us?
Saul. Let him.
David (with high sorrow).
O heart of woe,
Heart of unrest and broken as a reed! (Plays.)
O heart whose flow
Is anguish and all bitterness of need! (Plays.)
O heart as a roe,
Heart as a hind upon the mountain fleeing
The arrow-wounds of being,
Be still, O heart, and rest and do not bleed!
(Plays longer with bowed head.)
O days of life,
Days that are driven swift and wild from the womb! (Plays.)
O days so rife—
Days that are torn of trouble, trod of doom!
O days of strife—
Days of desire on deserts spread unending,
The burning blue o'erbending,
O days, our peace, our victory is the tomb!
(He plays to a close that dies in anguished silence.)
Saul (rising in tears). David!
David. My lord?
Saul. Thy song is beauteous!
Stilling to sorrow!... Oh, my friend, my son!
David. To me is this? I do not dream? The king
Again is kind and soft his spirit moves?
Saul. To you!
David. How shelter o'er me then will spring
And safety covering!
Saul. It ever shall.
Loveliest have you been among my days,
And singing weary madness from my brain.
(David starts toward him.)
How I have wronged thee!
Michal. Wronged him? (in fury).
David. Michal!
Saul. Girl?
Michal. You have not wronged him!
David. Michal!
Michal. No! but he
Is jeopardy and fate about you! drive
Him from you utterly and now away!
(Murmurs of astonishment.)
Saul. What mean you?
Ishui. Speak.
Saul. What mean you?
Michal. This!
David. No word!
Michal. I'll not be kept!
David. But shall be; for to tell
Would rend silence for ever from you—pale
Your flesh with haunting of it evermore!
All, all your being would become a hiss,
A memory of syllables that sear,
A living iteration of remorse.
I—I myself will save your lips the words
Of this betrayal leaping from your heart.
You seek, my lord ... you seek whom Samuel
Anointed.
Saul. Yes.
David. Then know that it is I.
Saul. You!
David. Guiltless I, no other!
I, though I sought it not and suffer, though—
I would it had not come and fast am sworn
Never against you to lift up——
Merab. Hear, hear!
Now he will cozen!
Doeg. He, "thy servant!"
Ishui. Hear!
(Goliath's head is upset.)
A voice. A thousand Saul hath slain! but David ten!
Saul (choking). Omnipotence shall not withhold me more.
Die, die!
Jonathan. No, father ... hold!
Michal (as Saul flings). What have I done?
Jonathan. David, unhurt? Away, the wilderness!
Saul (with another javelin). He shall not, no!
David (aflame). Strike, strike, then! strike, strike, strike,
Murderous king, afoam with murder-heat.
Strike me to darkness and the waiting worm!
But after be your every breathing blood!
Remorse and riving bitterness and fear!
Be guilt and all the hideous choke of horror!
(Saul trembling cowers, the javelin falling from him. David
breaks through Doeg and Ishui and escapes by the
door. Michal sinks to her knees, her face buried in
her hands.)
Curtain.
Scene: A savage mountain-cliff in the wilderness of Engeddi. On
either side grey crags rise rugged, sinking away precipitously
across the back. Cut into each is a cave. The height is
reached by clefts from all sides. Between the crags to the
East is the far blue of the Dead Sea; and still beyond, bathed
in the waning afternoon, stretch the purple shores of Moab.
During the act the scene grows crimson with sunset and a
thundercloud arises over the sea. Lying on a pallet of skins
near the cliff's verge, David tosses feverishly. Three of his
followers and a lad, who serves him, are gathered toward the
front, ragged, hungry, and hunted, in altercation over a
barley cake.
David. Water! the fever fills me, and I thirst.
Water!
First Fol. Listen.
Second Fol. He calls.
David. Water! I thirst.
The Lad. Yes, yes, my lord. (Takes up a water-skin.) Ah, empty, not a quaff!
They've drunk it all from him! My lord, none's left.
I'll run and in the valley brim it soon.
(He goes. David sinks back.)
Second Fol (to First). You drank it, then.
First Fol. And should I thirst, not he?
Give me the bread.
Second Fol. If it would strangle you.
First Fol. I'll have it.
Second Fol. Or betray him? spitingly?
It is the last. Already you have eat.
And we are here within a wilderness.
First Fol. Be it, but I'll not starve.
Third Fol. He utters right.
Why should we but to follow a mere shepherd
Famish—over a hundred desert hills?
The prophecy portending him the throne—
Folly, not fate! though it is Samuel's.
I'll trust in it no more.
First Fol. Nor I.
Third Fol. And Saul
Has driven us from waste to waste—pressed us
Even unto the Philistines for shelter,
And now unto this crag. And is not David's
Thought but of Michal, not of smiting him
And, with a host, of leaping to the kingdom?
First Fol. He moves; peace!
Third Fol. Let him.
Second Fol. Peace.
Third Fol. And fawning too?
David (sufferingly). Men—men, we must have news. Perpetual,
Implacable they stare unto each other,
This rock and stony sky.... We must have news.
(Rises and comes down to them. They are silent.)
Longer is death. 'Tis over many days
Of sighing—and remembered verdancy;
Nor any dew comes here or odour up.
Who will go now and bring us word of Saul?
Third Fol. Have not Abishai, Abiathar,
And others gone?
David. Bravely.
Third Fol. And none returned!
David. Not one of all.
Third Fol. Well, then, we are not swine;
And life's but once.... So we will follow you
No longer hungered and rewarded never,
But perilously ever.
David. It is well.
(He looses a bracelet from his arm.)
This was a gift from Saul. In it is ease.
(Gives it to Third Follower, who goes.)
This ring was Jonathan's. The jewel tells
Still of the sunny haven of his heart.
Upon my hand he pressed it—the day we leapt
Deeper than friends into each other's love.
(Gives it to First, who goes.)
This chain——
Second Fol. I want it not.
David. You have not thought;
'Tis riches—such as Sidon marts and Tyre
Would covet.
Second Fol. I care not.
David. None else is left.
Second Fol. No matter.
David. Then——?
Second Fol. There was of Gibeah
A woman—dear to me. Her face at night ...
Weeping among my dreams....
The prophesy
Is unfulfilled and vain!
David. And you would go?
Second Fol. The suffering—this cliff.
David. I understand.
(Motions.) So, without any blame, go—to content.
(The Second, faltering, goes.)
(Quietly.) A desolation left, of rock and air,
Of barren sea and bitterness as vast.
Thou hast bereft me, Saul!... and Michal, thou!
(He moves up cliff, gazes off, then kneels as to pray.)
My flesh cries for oblivion—to sink
Unwaking away into the night ... where is
No tears, but only tides of sleep....
No, crieth
Not for oblivion and night, but for
Rage and revenge! Saul! Saul!... My spirit, peace.
I must revenge's call within me quell
Though righteously it quivers and aflame.
As pants the hart for the water-brook, so I!
(He bows his head.... Michal enters in rags with
the lad. She sees David rise and wander into cave,
right.)
Michal. This is the place, then, this?
Lad. Yes, princess.
Michal. Here
So long in want and sickness he hath hid?
Under the livid day and lonelier night?
Lad. I brought him water, often.
Michal. Little lad!
But he has heard no word from me?—not how
My father, Saul, frantic of my repentance,
Had unto Phalti, a new lord, betrothed me?
How then I fled to win unto these wilds?
Lad. He heard not anything—only the tales
I told of Moab, my own land.... But, oh!
It is his harp.
Michal. And strains that weep o'er me!...
I'll speak to him ... and yet must be unknown!
A leper? as a leper could I...?
Lad. Why
Must he not know you?
Michal. Ask me not, lad, now;
But go a little.
Lad. Yes.
(He sets down the water-skin and goes.)
Michal (delaying, then in a loud voice). Unclean! Unclean!
(Conceals her face in her hair.)
David. Who crieth here?
Michal. Unclean!
David (appearing). Who cries unclean?
Poor leper in these wilds, who art thou?
Michal. One
Outcast and faint, forlorn!
David. Then you have come
To one more bitter outcast than yourself—
One who has less than this lone void to give,
This sterile solitude and sun, this scene
Of leaden desolation that makes mad;
Who has no ease but cave or shading rock,
Or the still moon, or stars that glide the night.
One over whom——
Michal. Yet, pity!
David. The pale hours
Flow dead into eternity.
Michal. Ah, yet...!
David. My cloak, then, for thy tattered limbs. Or, no—
This chain of Ophir for thy every need.
Once it was dear, but should be so no more.
(Flinging it to her). Have it, and with it vanish memory
Out of my breast——
Michal. No, no.
David. And from me fall
Link upon link her loveliness that bound.
Michal. Oh, do not!
David. Woman...?
Michal. Nothing. A chain like this
I once beheld wind undulantly bright
O'er Michal the king's daughter.
David. Woman, the king's?
Michal. Pity!
David. Who are you?
Michal. Stay! Unclean!
David. A spy?
A spy of Saul and hypocrite have crept
Hither to learn...?
Michal. Have heed—unclean!
David. How, then
Wandering came you here?
Michal. Unclean! Unclean!
David. My brain is overfull of fever, mad.
Almost and I had touched thy peril, held
Thy hideous contagion.
Michal. Wrong!
David. Then who
Art thou to know and speak of her, of Michal?
Michal. One who has served the king.
David. And you have seen
Michal, you have beheld her?
Michal. Once, when she
In face was fairer and in heart than now
They say she is.
David. And heard her speak?
Michal. A night
Under the leaves of Gibeah—when she
Sang with another—David.
David. Say no more.
Michal. And from afar, under the moon, blew faint
The treading of the wine-presses with song.
David she loved, but anger-torn betrayed,
Unworthy of him.
David. Speak of her no more,
Nor of her cruelty, unless to pray
He she has ruined may forget her.
Michal. Yet
If deep she should repent?—if deep she should?
(A cry interrupts. They start.)
David. A jackal? (Listens.) No, the signal! Word at last!
(To Michal). He who is near may prove to thee less kind.
(She goes. He leaps up the cliff.)
Abishai? Abiathar?... It is!
But staggering and wounded? breathless? torn?
The priest with bloody ephod, too, and wild?
(Watching, then springing to meet them as they reel in.)
Abishai, what is it that you bring?
Abiathar, up! answer!
Abiathar. Water!
David. Up!
(He brings the water-skin. They drain it fiercely.)
What is it now so fevered from you stares,
And breathing, too, abhorrence? Gasp it out.
Abiathar. I stifle—in a universe—he still—
Has breath in.
David. Saul?
Abiathar. Ill scathe him! Scorpions
Of terror and remorse sting in his soul!
David. If you have tidings, not in words so wild.
Abiathar. Then ask, and hate shall calm me.
David. Ask?
Abiathar. On, on!
Seek if he lives!
David. Who?
Abiathar. Seek if prophecy
Founts yet in Judah!
David. Samuel...?
Abiathar. Is dead!
Dead—and of tidings more calamitous.
David (hoarsely). Tell on. I hear.
Abiathar. Saul gloating to believe
The priests who gathered sacredly at Nob,
Plotted assisting you, hath had them——
David. No...!
Abiathar. Slain at the hands of Doeg—murdered, all!
David. But he—your father?
Abiathar. Was among them; fell.
David (gently). Abiathar, my friend!... Appeaseless Saul!
Abiathar. Hear all, hear all! Thy father, too, and mother,
Even thy kindred, out of Israel
Are driven into Moab; and this king,
Delirious still for blood as a desert pard,
With Merab, whelp of him, and many armed,
Is near us now—a-quiver at Engeddi
For your destruction:
(David struggles for control.)
And yet you will not strike.
David (low). No, but of Michal, tell me good at once,
Lest unendurable this lot, I may——
Mounting o'er every oath into revenge.
Abiathar. Ha—Michal!
David. She withholds her father's wrath?
Abiathar. She's well.
David. Not if you say no more.
Abiathar. I know
Nothing of her.
David. Your look belies.
Abiathar. Perhaps:
As did her love.
David. That is for me.
Abiathar. Well, what?
A woman who betrays?
David. Speak, not evade;
And judge her when earth has no mystery.
Abiathar. Then from your craving put her—wide; she is
Unworthy any tremor of your veins.
David. Dawn-lilies under dew are then unworthy,
And nesting doves are horrible to heaven.
I will not so believe. Your reason?
Abiathar. Saul
Has given her—and she will wed him, aye—
To Phalti, a new lord.
David. Untrue of her!
Abiathar. Cry. Yet you will believe it.
David. Not until
The parable of verdant spring is hushed
Ever of bloom, to prove it. Never till
Hermon is swung into the sea! until
The last void of the everlasting sky—
(Looking up, falters, breaks off, and is strangely moved.)
Abiathar. Now what alarm?
Abishai. What stare you on?
Abiathar. He's mad?
No, no!... an eaglet!...
David. Pierct!
Abishai. Pierct?
David. Falling here ...
And beating against death unbuoyantly.
(The bird drops at their feet.)
A destiny, a fate in this is hidden!
Abiathar. And—why?
David. The arrow!—His! (Starts back.) His and no other's!
Quick, no delay. Efface all trace of us.
Abiathar. Be clear, clearer.
David. We are discovered—near
On us is death. Open the secret chamber
Within the cave, for from the bow of Saul
Is yonder bleeding—from no other.
Abiathar. Saul's?
But how; was any here?
David. To-day, to-day.
A leper wandering.
Abiathar. We are betrayed.
(Abishai hastes to cave, right, David and Abiathar
listen. Noise of approach is heard.)
David. They near.
Abiathar. And many.
David. King of Israel!
Inexorable!
Abiathar. O, rebuke him, do!
David. Almost I am beyond this tolerance.
Abiathar. In truth. Therefore it is you rise and shake
Out of his power the sceptre!
David. Tempt me not!
Mercy and memory almost are dead,
And craving birth in me is fateful ire.
(They follow into the cave: but hardly have done so when,
at a shout, pour in Saul and his men, bloodthirstily,
from all sides, Doeg and Abner leading.)
Saul. On, to him! search the caves! in, in, and bring
Him to my sword and Michal with him.
They
Shall couch upon eternity and dust.
(Weakly.) I am the king and Israel is mine....
I'll sleep upon their grave, I'll sleep upon it,
And hear the worm...!
(To a soldier re-entering from one cave.)
Where is he? Bring him.
Soldier. O king—
Saul. You've slain him and you tremble! Say it.
Soldier. No.
Saul. Then hither with him; hither!
Soldier. He's not here.
Saul. A treachery! You cunningly contrive
To aid him, so....
(To a soldier from the other cave.)
Bring me his head.
Soldier (fearfully). My lord,
He is not there....
Saul. I tell you it is lies—
Because you deem that he shall be the king,
And treasure up reward and amnesty.
(Rushes wildly to caves in turn, then out among them.)
From me ill-fruited ineffectual herd!
Away from me, he's fled and none of you
Is servant and will find and for me seize him!
From me—I'll sleep—I'll rest—and then—
(Abner and Doeg remain. Saul enters cave, left.)
Abner (to Doeg, significantly). The Evil Spirit.
Doeg. Yes; upon him swift
It came as never before—as drunkenness.
Abner. Then—safe to leave him?
Doeg. Will he brook denial?
Abner. And Merab, too, will soon be here.
Doeg. Well, come.
Abner. I'll go and look upon him.
(Returning.) Already he sleeps.
So we may seek us water; (then suddenly) no, abide!
(Is held by Michal entering.)
Woman, who are you, who?
Michal (quaking). Unclean! away!
Doeg. Unclean? a leper? in this place? Are there
No stones to stone you? Hence! And had I not
A brother such as thou——
Michal. Pity! Unclean!
(She quickly goes, then they. A space; then she returns,
trembling and fearful.)
I'll call him! I will save him! David! David!—
I his discomfiture and ruin!—David!
Hear, David! hear me! David!
The king! My father!
I cannot—am not—whither shall I, whither...?
(Flees, as a scuffling is heard and David's voice.)
David. Loose me, I say. 'Twas Michal, and she called!
(Appears, withheld by Abiathar.)
(Breaking free.) I say that it was she!
Abiathar. Foolhardy, no
Return into the cave, and ere too late!
(Merab, veiled, enters behind them.)
David. 'Twas Michal and no other.
Abiathar. You are duped.
David (searching). The breathing of archangels could not so
Have swung the burden from me as her ... Ha!
(Sees Merab; slowly recoils.)
Merab. It is not Michal.
David. No—it is not Michal.
(Motions the priest aside.)
Merab. Yet it is one who——
David. Need not lift her veil,
Or longer stay. The path she came is open.
Merab. I'm here—and here will speak! I've hither stolen,
Yearning—I say it—yearning—and I will.
David. These words I do not know.
Merab. Because you will not.
More all-devouring than a Moloch is
This love within me——
David. Love and you are twain,
As sun and Sheol.
Merab. False. I am become
For want of you as famine-wind, a wave
In the mid-tempest, with no rest, no shore.
David. I do not hear the unashamed words
Of one who has but recently another,
Adriel, wedded.
Merab. You refuse me, then?
David. I beg you but to cease.
Merab. Goaded, chagrined?
No, but this will I do. The Philistines,
For long at rioting within their walls,
Gather again and break toward Gilboa....
David. Merab of Saul!
Merab. To-morrow must my father
Return from hunting you and arm for battle.
But—many would that you were king.
David. Were...?
Merab. King!
David. I do not understand your eyes.
Merab. I will
For love of you arouse rebellion up,
Murmur about the host your heaven-call,
And lift you to the kingdom.
David. To the —— Stay!
Your words again.
Merab. The kingdom.
David. Awful God!
Merab. What is your mien? you will not?
David. Twice the words—
Full from her lips—and to betray her father.
(Abiathar discovers Saul.)
Merab. You will not? answer!
David. Odious utterly!
As yonder sea of death and bitter salt!
As foam-girt Joppa of idolatry,
As Memphian fane of all abhorrencies!
Morning would move with horror of it, noon
A livid sepulchre of shame span o'er,
And night shrink to remember day had been!
Merab. You scorn—you scorn me?
David. Jonathan! your sister!
Merab. Then Saul shall rend you dead. And Jonathan!...
Perchance you had not heard that Jonathan
Knows to the Philistines you fled—and loathes you!
David. I have not heard.
Merab. Nor have not, ah? how Michal
Is given to the embraces of another?
You desperately breathe and pale at last?
(She laughs more bitterly.)
To me for aid, to me you yet shall come.
(She goes. David lifts his hand to his brow in pain.
Then Abiathar abruptly descends from Saul's cave
to him.)
Abiathar. David——
David. Leave me.
Abiathar. Not till you know—and strike!
David. I tell you, go.
Abiathar. I tell you 'tis the king.
David. Who breaks forbearance—yes.
Abiathar. Who lieth yonder.
And sleeping lieth—for a thrust to end.
David (his sword quickly out—struggling).
Then shall there be an ending—of these wounds
That wring me—of this wail
Under the deeps of me against his wrongs.
Saul, Saul!... Michal!... Oh, never-ceasing ill!
(Flings down the sword in anguish.)
Abiathar. You will not come?
David. The sun is set.
Abiathar. Has Saul
Hunted you to this desert's verge?
David. Enough!
Abiathar. Has he pursued you, all his hate unleashed?
Are Samuel—the priests, not slain? my father?
The kingdom is not in decay, and falls?
You are not prophesy's anointed one?
Seize up the sword and strike—or I myself!
David. Or—you yourself?...
(Puts them aside, takes sword, and goes to Saul's cave.)
Abishai. What will he do?... listen
Abiathar. If Saul cries out——
Abishai. Be ready.
Michal (to them). What is this?
(David re-enters—haggard and worn—from the cave, a
piece of Saul's cloak and the sword still in his
hand.... The pause is tense with emotion.)
Michal (at last, with a cry, as David clenches).
Ah, you have slain—have slain him! Wretch! thou wretch!
And sleeping as he was!
David. And it was you...?
In lying rags?
Michal. Have struck him in his sleep!
And merciless! And now will kill me, too?
David. The leper, you! The faithless leper, you,
Who drove me a prey upon this wilderness!
Upon the blot of it and death and sear!
The silence and relentless burning swoon!
You are the leper, who have broken troth
And shut the cry of justice from your breast!
Who've stifled me with desolation's woe,
Who've followed still and still have me betrayed!
Michal. Betrayed? No, loose me!
David. Slain thy father? slain?
(Flinging the piece of Saul's cloak at her feet.)
See how I might—see, see you, yonder he lies,
A king who quits the kingdom, though a cloud
Of Philistines is foaming toward Gilboa;
Jeoparded leaves it, undefended, for
Pursuit of me and pitiless harrying!
A king who murders priests ...
Michal. Priests?
David. Stifles God
With penitence that He has shaped the world!
Have slain? have slain him! I have slain him! Ah!
Ah, that I had thy falseness and could slay him!
Michal. David...!
David. Nevermore near me! never with
That quivering and tenderness of lure.
Those eyes that hold infinity of fate,
That breathing cassia-sweet, but sorcery!
Michal. Oh ...
David. Never thy presence pouring beauty, swift,
And seething in the brain as frantic wine!
I'll be no more enspelled of thee—Never!
I will not hear thee and be wound by words
Into thy wile as wide as Ashtoreth's,
Back into hope, eternity of pain!
(He goes in agony—the priest and Abishai after. Michal
stands gazing tearless before her as Saul, awakened,
comes slowly from the mouth of the cave down toward
her.)
Curtain.
Scene: The house of Miriam, the "Witch of Endor," by
Mount Gilboa—where Saul is encamped against the Philistines.
It is of one story, built rectangularly about an inner
court, which is dimly lighted. Under the gallery which ranges
around the court are doors leading to the sleeping and other
apartments; before one of these a lattice. On the left is the
gate opening to the street. At the back to one side, the
teraphim, or image of divination; on the other side a
stairway mounts to the roof. Above is the night and vague
lightning amid a moan of wind. During the act comes dawn.
Forward on a divan sits Miriam alone, in blind restlessness.
Miriam. Adah!... The child is sunken in a sleep.
Yet would I have her near me in this night,
And hear again the boding of her tale.
Unto the blind the vision and the awe
Of the invisible sway ever in,
The shadow of nativities that lead
Upon fatality.
Girl! Adah! girl!
(The wind passes. Adah enters from a chamber, rubbing
her eyes.)
Thou art awake?
Adah. I slumbered.
Miriam. Stand you where
Fathoming I may feel within you. Now,
Again—you've hither fled your mistress Merab,
In fear of her?
Adah. Yes.
Miriam. At Engeddi Michal
By Saul was apprehended? Merab now
Plotteth against her—she and Doeg?
Adah. Still.
Miriam. And 'twas in Merab's tent you heard, the king
Despairing of to-morrow's battle, comes
Hither to-night to bid me lift the spirit
Of Samuel out of the dead and learn
The issue?
Adah. Doeg said it.
Miriam. And—you hear?——
Many within the army urge for David,
Would cry him king, if Saul were slain?
Adah. O many.
(A knock at the gate. They start up fearful.)
Miriam. Who seeks blind Miriam of Endor's roof,
Under the night and unextinguished storm?
Come you a friend?
David (without). A friend.
Miriam. As knows my soul!
(Throws open the gate. David enters and Abiathar cloaked.)
Thy voice again!—this blindness of my eyes—
If it be David, speak.
David. Yes, Miriam.
Miriam. David of Jesse, Israel's desire!
Let me behold thee (her hands go over him) with my fingers' sight,
And gather in them touch of thee again!
Thy voice is as dream-dulcimers that stir
Quivering myrrh of memory and joy.
But, aie! why are you here? You have been there?
David. Yes—in the camp of Saul.
Miriam. In spite of Death!
Do you not know——
David. I know—that Saul would rather
O'er-tramble me than a multitude of foes.
That it is told him I who shun his ire—
Though death were easier, if dutiful—
Am come up with the Philistines to win
The kingdom. That he would slay me though I fought
For Israel!—But, Michal!—
Miriam. Aie——
David. What brews?
She was not in the camp.
Miriam. Men all are mad!
And you who should be never.
David. She is in
Some peril.
Miriam. You, in more! And must from here
Swiftly away, for Saul is——
David. I must see her.
Miriam. Unholy!
David. Yet unholier were flight.
Miriam. You are the anointed!
(A heavy knock at the gate.)
Ah, calamity!
You would not heed—'tis Saul!
David. Here?
Miriam. He is come
That I shall call up Samuel.
David. You, you—
The awful dead?
Saul (calls). Woman of Endor!
Miriam. Hide!
The lattice yonder!
Saul. Woman of Endor! woman!
(David and Abiathar withdraw. The knocking hastier.)
Woman of Endor! Woman of Endor! Woman!
Miriam. Who crieth at my gate?
Saul. Unbar and learn.
Miriam. To danger?
Saul. None.
Miriam. To thieves?
Saul. To rueing it
You tarry!
(She lets him in, with Ishui and Adriel.)
Miriam. Whom seek you?
Saul. Witch of Endor, you,
Who of the fate-revealing dead divine.
Out of the Pit you call them!
Miriam. What is this?
Saul. I say that you can raise them!
Miriam. You are come
With snaring! knowing well that Saul the king
Is woe and bitterness to all who move
With incantation.
Saul. He is not.
Miriam. Depart!
Saul. I must have up out of the Awfulness
Him I would question.
Miriam. Perilous!
Saul. Prepare
Before thy teraphim. No harm, I swear,
Shall come of it. Bid Samuel appear.
The battle! its event!
Miriam (with a cry). I know thee now!
Saul! thou art Saul! the Terror!
Saul. Call him up.
Ready is it, the battle—but I am
Forsaken of all prophesy and dream,
Of voices and of priest and oracle,
To augur it.
Miriam. A doom's in this!
Saul. He must
Hold comfort, and the torrent of despair
Within me stay and hush.
Miriam. Then must it be.
(She turns to the teraphim, amid wind and pallid lightning
prostrating herself.)
Prophet of Israel, who art beyond
The troubling and the terrifying grave,
Th' immeasurable moan and melancholy
Of ways that win to Sheol—Rise! Arise!
(She waits ... Only the wind gust. Then springing up,
with wide arms, and wild blind eyes.)
Prophet of Israel, arise! Not in
The name of Baal, Amon, Ashtoreth,
Dagon or all the deities that dream
In trembling temples of Idolatry,
But of Jehovah! of Jehovah! rise!
(An elemental cry is heard. Then wavering forms rise, vast,
out of the earth, in continuous stream. Miriam, with
a curdling shriek, sinks moaning to her knees.)
Saul. Woman, I cannot—dare not—look upon it.
Utter thy sight.
(The Spirit of Samuel begins to take shape through the
phantoms.)
Miriam. I see ... ascending
Forms as of gods in swaying ghostliness,
Dim apparitions of a dismal might,
And now is one within a mantle clad,
Who looketh——
Saul. Samuel!
Miriam. Who looketh with
Omniscience in his mien, and there is chill
And cling about him of eternity!
His eyes impale me!
Saul. Spirit, give me word!
(He falls heavily to the ground.)
Samuel (as afar). O evil king! and wretched king! why hast
Thou brought me from the quietness and rest?
Saul. The battle on the morrow——
Samuel. Evil thou art
For underneath this night thou hast conspired
Death to thy daughter Michal—if at dawn
The battle shall be lost—lest she may fall
Into the hands of David——
David (in horror). O!
Ishui. Whose cry?
Samuel. I tell thee, Saul, thy sceptre shrivels fast.
The battle shall be lost—it shall be lost.
(The Spirit of Samuel disappears. A wail of wind.)
Adriel. Ishui, true? Is Michal to be slain?
Ishui. This is no hour for fools and questioning.
Saul (struggling up). The battle, Ishui, at once command
It shall begin! To Jonathan and say it.
No prophecy shall sink me and no shade.
I am the king, and Israel, my own.
(Frenzied he goes. A silence.)
David (breaking forth). Michal to die and Israel to fall!
Prophet of prophets, Samuel, return!
Out of the Shadow and the Sleep, return,
Compassionate, and tell me where she is
That I may save. Again appear and say
That Israel to-morrow may not fall—
Not fall on ruin!
Adriel. David? is it thou?
David. Meholah's Adriel, your conscience asks.
Adriel. You were concealed?
David. And I have heard. Cry then
Out unto Saul! Betray me, cry you out!
Adriel. Betray?
David. Is the word honey? Is it balm?
Adriel. David, I've wronged you—
David. Haply!
Adriel. Jealously.
And ask now no forgiveness—not until
Michal is won from peril!
David. Do you know
More of her? still?
Adriel. Saul——
David. Saul——?
Adriel. Has given Doeg
Power of this.... And to some spot of Endor
Here he has brought her.
David. God!
Adriel. And now himself,
David, himself cannot be far away.
David. Ahaste, and bring him then by force or guile,
In any way, that we may from him win
Where she is prisoned.
The quivering
Quicksands of destiny beneath her stir.
Is heaven a mocking shield that ever keeps
God from our prayers?
Miriam. David, contain thy heart.
(A faint uproar begins afar; and dawn.)
David. The battle! on the wind. Abiathar,
Speed out upon the mountain-side and cull
All that befalls.
(Adah opens the gate. The priest goes.)
Adah (springing back). Oh!
David. Child, why do you quail?
Adah. My mistress, Merab!
David. Girl?
Adah. I saw her—she—
Is coming hither! Do not let her—she—
I fear—I fear her!
David. Hither coming?
Adah. She!
(The gate is thrown open fiercely.)
Merab (entering). Woman and witch, did Adriel, my husband,
Come to you with the king?
David. Unnatural,
Unkind, most cruel sister!
Merab (shrinks). You are here?
David. Once me you would have poisoned, but the coil
Within your bosom I beheld. And now
Michal your sister is the victim.
Merab. I—
Know not your meaning.
David. The battle burning yonder,
If it adversely veers, the king has planned
Michal is not to live lest she may hap
Unto my arms.
Merab. That Michal shall be slain?
David. Almighty, smite, and save to Thee thy people!
And save Thy altars unto Israel!
(He bows his head. A stir comes at the gate.)
Merab. David, 'tis Adriel!
Adriel. Ope! open, you!
David. At last the word.
Merab. Girl, Adah, draw the bar.
(David throws a cloak to his face, as Adah obeys. Adriel
enters, and Doeg, who pauses in quick alarm, as
David goes between him and the gate.)
Doeg. What place is this? Why do you bar that gate?
Merab, 'tis you? Why do you gaze, rigid?
And this is the blind witch, Miriam?
David. It is.
(He throws off the cloak.)
Doeg. Lured? I am snared? a trap?
David. Where have you Michal?
Doeg (drawing). No closer!
David. If she is an atom harmed——!
Where is she?
Doeg. I was the servant of the king,
I but obey him.
David. And thy horrible heart.
Then speak, or unto frenzy I am driven.
Doeg. I'll drive you there with——
(Breaks off with low laugh.)
David. Tell it!
Doeg. Unto your
Soft sympathy—and passion? (Laughs.) She is dead.
David (immovable, then repressed).
If it is so, the lightning, that is wrath
Within the veins of God, should sink its fang
Into thy bosom and sear out thy heart.
If it is so, this momentary calm,
This silence pouring overfull the world,
Would rush and in thee cry until thy bones
Broken of guilt are crumbled in thy groans.
Dead, she is dead?
Miriam. No, David, my lord, he lies!
(Strangely, as in a trance.)
To wound you, lies!
David. Not dead?
Miriam. I see her eyes!
I see her in a vision. She is near——
Is in a cave—is bound—and is alone.
I will go to her—quickly bring her.
Doeg. Not
If this shall reach you.
David. Ah, to pierce a woman!
(Miriam finds her way out.)
You've plotted, have been false and bloody, foul,
And as a pestilence of midnight marsh
Have oozed corruption into all around you.
The kingdom thro' you is in brokenness,
Within its arteries you flow, poison,
Incentive of irruption and unrest,
Of treachery and disaffection's sore,
Till even the stars that light it seem as tares
Sown hostile o'er the nightly vale of heaven.
(Draws firmly. Coldly, skilfully approaches for attack.)
Doeg (retreating). No farther!
David. Unto the end! unto the end!
(He rushes in; they engage; Doeg is wounded.)
(Quickly forces him under. The gate then opens and Abiathar
hurries in.)
Abiathar. David, the battle——!
(Sees Doeg and stops, pale.)
David. Fetter him.
Abiathar. Only fetter? (His dagger out) the murderer
Of priestly sanctity and of my father?
David. Abiathar! You know obedience?
(Doeg is sullenly bound and led aside. Then a panic is
heard afar, and dim laments. David, who has sunk
to a seat, springs anxiously up.)
Listen! that cry!
A voice. Woe! woe!
David. What is its wail?
The Voice. The battle's lost!
David. Abiathar—?
The Voice. Saul flees!
David. Abiathar, is lost?
Abiathar. I fear it.
David. Then (pointing to Doeg)
Off with his armour for me, I will go
Forth and may backward, backward bend defeat.
Duty to Saul is over.
Adriel. You must not.
A fruitless intrepidity it were.
Abiathar. Remember your anointing!
Abishai. The prophesy!
And Michal! (The gate opens.) Michal who lives! who
lives! who lives!
(David has turned and sees her enter with Miriam.)
Hosanna!...
Adriel. Ever!...
Miriam. David——
Michal (pleading, to him). It is I.
Miriam. The cords were cruel, hungrily sank in
Her wrists and ankles.
Michal. David! look on me.
David. My words must be alone with her—alone.
Adriel. Come, all of you—the battle.
Michal. My lord!... my lord!
I ask not anything but to be heard—
Though once I would not hear. Has all of life
No glow for me?
David. Betrayers should have none.
Michal. I was a woman—the entanglement
Of duty amid love we have no skill
To loosen, but with passion.
David. You too late
Remember it is so.
Michal. Nobility
All unbelievable it seemed that you
Could innocently wait on time to tide
You to the kingdom. Then forgive, I plead.
David. But in the wilderness, your perfidy!
Michal. Doubt of it welleth thro' your voice. No, no,
To save you strove I——!
David. Michal?
Michal. Not to betray!
From Saul, my father, penitent I fled,
Seeking you in Engeddi's wild.
David. And Phalti?
Michal. 'Twas wedding him I loathed.
David. Say true!
Michal. This knife
Unfailingly into my breast had sunk
And spared me, had not flight.
David. This—this can be?
(A great joy dawning in him.)
Beyond all hope it is, even as day's
Wide empery outspans our littleness.
A tithing of thy loveliness were beauty
Enough for earth. Yet it is mine, is mine?
Michal. David—for ever!
(She starts toward his arms. But cries and confusion of
cries beat back their joy. Then the gate is flung open
and Adriel enters, shaken. He looks from one to the
other.)
David (at last). Adriel! Adriel!
What have you?
Adriel. Saul—is slain!
Michal. My father?
Adriel. Slain!
And Jonathan——
David. No!
Adriel. Fell beside him down ...
The fray was fast—Israel fled—the foe
Fierce after Saul, whom Jonathan defended.
Michal. My father!
David. And my brother Jonathan!
If I believe it will not miracle
Alone bring joy again unto my pain?
(The wailing again, and deeper groans.)
O Israel, the Infinite has touched
Thy glory and it changes to a shroud!
Thy splendour is as vintage overspilt,
For Saul upon the mountains low is lying,
And Jonathan beside him, beautiful
Beyond the mar of battle and of death.
Yea, kingly Jonathan! And I would give
The beating of my life into his veins.
Willing for it would I be drouth and die!...
Peaks, mountains of Gilboa! let no more
Dew be upon you, and as sackcloth let
Clouds cover you, and ashes be your soil,
Until I bring upon Philistia
And Gath and Askalon extinguishing,
And sorrow—and immensity of tears!
(Michal goes to him. He folds her in his arms.)
But we must calm the flowing of this grief.
Though yet we cannot mind us to remember,
Love will as sandal-breath and trickling balm
O'erheal us in the unbegotten years,
Too headlong must not be our agony.
Hush now thy woundedness, my Michal, now.
See, o'er the East the lifted wings of Dawn.
(They climb the stair to the house-top. As they look away
toward the battle's rout the clouds part, and over them
breaks the full brightness of the sun....)
THE END.
The Gresham Press,
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED.
WOKING AND LONDON.
Transcriber's Notes:
Simple typographical and spelling errors were corrected. Considerable latitude was provided the dialogue and poetry.