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 gorgèd 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;

For that fair breast was made the ivory palace
Of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest.
For sorrow is the lot of all of woman born:

For care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: Nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed,

Can from the heart of man hide sorrow.

Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice

A sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink
No wine, nor eat of any unclean thing,

For holy unto Israel's God I am,

A Nazarite even from my mother's womb.
Twice was it told, that it might not be broken.

'Grant me a son, kind Heaven,' Manoa cried;
But Heaven refused.

Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best.

In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel

He lived, till venerable age came on :

His flocks increased, and plenty crowned his

board:

Beloved, revered of man.

F

But God hath other joys