There helmed youth and aged warriors

In dust together lie, and Desolation

Spreads his wings over the land of Palestine:
From side to side the land groans, her prowess lost,
And seeks to hide her bruised head

Under the mists of night, breeding dark plots.

For Dalila's fair arts have long been tried in vain ;

In vain she wept in many a treacherous tear.
Go on, fair traitress; do thy guileful work!
Ere once again the changing moon

Her circuit hath performed, thou shalt overcome,
And conquer him by force unconquerable,

And wrest his secret from him.

Call thine alluring arts and honest-seeming brow,
The holy kiss of love and the transparent tear ;
Put on fair linen that with the lily vies,
Purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem
More lovely in thy loose attire ; put on
Thy country's pride, deceit, and eyes of love
Decked in mild sorrow; and sell thy lord for gold.

For now, upon her sumptuous couch reclined
In gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and still

She grasps his vigorous knees with her fair arms. "Thou lov'st me not! thou'rt war, thou art not

love!

O foolish Dalila! O weak woman!

It is Death clothed in flesh thou lovest,
And thou hast been encircled in his arms!
Alas, my lord, what am I calling thee?
Thou art my God! To thee I pour my tears
For sacrifice morning and evening :

My days are covered with sorrow; shut up, darkened :

By night I am deceived!

Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind?

Destruction was thy father, a lioness

Suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs,

And gorged human flesh !

Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson's

servant?

'Tis Dalila that calls-thy master's wife.

No, stay, and let thy master do the deed:

One blow of that strong arm would ease my

pain;

Then I should lie at quiet and have rest.

Pity forsook thee at thy birth !

O Dagon

Furious, and all ye gods of Palestine,

Withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your enemy !

I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair;

I'll run about, and pierce the ears o' the gods!
O Samson, hold me not; thou lov'st me not!
Look not upon me with those deathful eyes!
Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches
fast."

Thus, in false tears, she bathed his feet,

And thus she day by day oppressed his soul.

He seemed a mountain, his brow among the clouds ; She seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing.

Dark thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind,
Like thunder-clouds troubling the sky;

His visage was troubled; his soul was distressed.
"Though I should tell her all my heart, what can
I fear?

Though I should tell this secret of my birth,

The utmost may be warded off as well when told as now."

She saw him moved, and thus resumes her wiles, Samson, I am thine; do with me what thou wilt My friends are enemies; my life is death;

I am a traitor to my nation, and despised;

My joy is given into the hands of him

Who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom.

Thrice hast thou mocked me and grieved my

soul.

Didst thou not tell me with green withes to bind Thy nervous arms, and, after that,

When I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes To bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock

me.

Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them,
To try thy truth, I cried, 'The Philistines

Be upon thee, Samson!' Then did suspicion wake

thee;

How didst thou rend the feeble ties!

Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear?

Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt

thee;

Thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron;

Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; An army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys :

What canst thou fear? I drink my tears like

water:

I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers,

What canst thou give when such a trifle is denied me?

But oh! at last thou mockest me, to shame
My over-fond inquiry! Thou told'st me

To weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair ;
I did even that to try thy truth; but, when

I cried, 'The Philistines be upon thee!' then Didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not."

He sat, and inward grieved:

He saw and loved the beauteous suppliant,
Nor could conceal aught that might appease her.
Then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke :

Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson's

love;