The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly,

As if he fear'd the slumberer might stir. A slow step startled him. He grasp'd his blade

As if a trumpet rang; but the bent form Of David enter'd, and he gave command, In a low tone, to his few followers,

And left him with his dead. The king stood still

Till the last echo died; then, throwing off

The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back

The pall from the still featurcs of his child,

He bow'd his head upon him, and broke forth

In the resistless eloquence of wo:

The hearts of all the people. Didst thou waste

The untold treasures of integrity, The gold of conscience for their light applause,

Thou fair dissembler?

Say, rememberest thou When o'er yon flinty steep of Olivet A sorrowing train went up?

frowning seers

Dark

Denouncing judgment on a rebel prince, Past sadly on; and next a crownless king

Walking in sad and humbled majesty, While hoary statesmen bent upon his brow

Indignant looks of tearful sympathy,
What caused the weeping there?
Thou heardst it not;
For thou within the city's walls didst
hold

Thy revel brief and base. So thou could'st set

The embattled host against thy father's life,

The king of Israel, and the loved of God!

He 'mid the evils of his changeful lot, Saul's moody hatred, stern Philistia's

Have perished with thee, but thy fame survives

The ingrate son that pierced a father's heart.

LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY
(1791-1865).

[JOAB'S ADDRESS TO DAVID ON DEATH OF ABSALOM.]

WHAT! irks it David, that he victor breathes,

That Juda, and the fields of Israel Should cleanse their faces from their children's blood?

What! art thou weary of thy royal rule? Is Israel's throne a serpent in thine

eyes,

And he that set thee there, so far from thanks,

That thou must curse his servant for his sake?

Hast thou not said, that, as the morning light,

The cloudless morning, so should be thine house,

And not as flowers, by the brightest rain,

Which grow up quickly, and as quickly fade?

Hast thou not said, the wicked are as thorns,

That cannot be preserved with the hand;

And that the man shall touch them must be arm'd

With coats of iron, and garments made of steel,

Or with the shaft of a defenced spear? And art thou angry he is now cut off, That led the guiltless swarming to their deaths,

And was more wicked than an host of men?

Advance thee from thy melancholy den, And deck thy body with thy blissful robes,

Or, by the Lord that sways the Heaven, I swear,

I'll lead thine armies to another king, Shall cheer them for their princely chivalry;

And not sit daunted, frowning in the dark,

When his fair looks with oil and wine refresh'd,

Should dart into their bosoms gladsome beams,

And fill their stomachs with triumphant

feasts;

That, when elsewhere stern War shall

sound his trump,

And call another battle to the field, Fame still may bring thy valiant soldiers home,

And for their service happily confess She wanted worthy trumps to sound their prowess:

Take thou this course and live: refuse and die.

GEORGE PEELE [1553 (?)-1598 (?)].

[JOAB'S DESCRIPTION OF
DAVID.]

BEAUTEOUS and bright is he among the tribes;

As when the sun, attired in glistering robe,

Comes dancing from his oriental gate, And, bridegroom-like, hurls through the gloomy air

His radiant beams: such doth King David show,

Crown'd with the honour of his enemies' town,

Shining in riches like the firmament,

The starry vault that overhangs the earth;

So looketh David, King of Israel.
GEORGE PEELE [1553 (?)-1598 (?)].

JOAB AT THE BATTLE OF
MEDEBA:

ON Medeba's fair plain and waving meads

Three mighty armies moved like some deep flood,

Expecting signal triumph through brave deeds,

While drenching fields and vales with human blood:

And flashing spears and crests reflect the light

But none might tell how many fall ere night.

On Israel's right in ranks on ranks, appear

The boasted Syrian host in purple gay, With chariot and horseman, bow and

spear,

Nor doubting issue of the coming fray; Their champing steeds, bedecked with trappings bright,

Necks clothed with thunder, ready for the fight.

And marshalled on the left a countless - host

That seemed to rob all Ammon of her

men

Whose sounding war cries rose in vaunting boast

To strew the field with Israelites, and when,

Amid the awful carnage, triumphs shout And chase the fleeing Israelites' wild

rout.

Yet Joab's men were marshalled on the plain

With waving banners in the morning

sun,

And nodding plumes were scattered through the train

O'er veterans well scarred through vict'ries won:

But right and left confronting hordes

so vast

That even Joab's soldiers well might stand aghast.