As thou brak'st them to twine round thy harp-strings, As if no wild heat Were raging to torture the desert!" 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. I pulled up the spear that obstructed, Hands and knees o'er the slippery grass-patch All withered and gone― That leads 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; And spoke," Here is David, thy servant!" And first I saw nought but the blackness; A something more black than the blackness -The vast, the upright Main-prop which sustains the pavilion,— And slow into sight Grew a figure, gigantic, against it, And blackest of all; Then a sunbeam, that burst thro' the tent-roof, He stood as erect as that tent-prop ; On the great cross-support in the centre So he bent not a muscle, but hung there And waiting his change, the king-serpent Far away from his kind, in the pine, Till deliverance come With the Spring-time,-so agonized Saul, 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: How one after one seeks its lodging, As star follows star Into eve and the blue far above us, -So blue and so far! Then the tune for which quails on the cornland Will leave each his mate To follow the player; then, what makes The crickets elate Till for boldness they fight one another: And then, what has weight To set the quick jerboa 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 show, we and they are his children, Then I played the help-tune of our reapers, Their wine-song, when hand Grasps 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 low song When the dead man is praised on his journey— "Bear, bear him along "With his few faults shut up like dead flowrets; "Are balm-seeds not here "To console us? The land is left none 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 When 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, And I paused, held my breath in such silence! And listened apart; And the tent shook, for mighty Saul shuddered,— 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, "Oh, our manhood's prime vigour ! -No spirit feels waste, No muscle is stopped in its playing, No sinew unbraced ; And the wild joys of living! The leaping From rock up to rock The rending their boughs from the palm-trees, The cool silver shock Of a plunge in the pool's living water The haunt 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's flesh steeped in the pitcher The full draught of wine, And the sleep in the dried river channel Where tall rushes tell The water was wont to go warbling So softly and well,— How good is man's life here, mere living! How fit to employ 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 to the wolf hunt For glorious reward? Didst thou see the thin hands of thy mother Held up, as men sung The song of the nearly-departed, And heard her faint tongue Joining in while it could to the witness |