gave to man superior strength, that he
The weaker sex might succour and defend;
But he that dares pervert this giv'n blessing,
To ruin and destroy their innocence,
Shall feel pursuing vengeance, nor escape
Her rod uplifted, nor avert the stroke.
Conviction's sword shall pierce him, and remorse
With all the tortures of the mind assail,
Till he a victim falls to grim despair;
Except repentance timely to his aid
Come with her tears, to sooth, to mitigate;
While her attendant hope extends a ray,
To point where mercy spreads her healing wings,
Nor e'en with this is vengeance satisfied,
She'll still pursue with some external ills,
Exhausted health and spirits; — drooping — drear,
An outcast of society he roams,
Alike discarded by his friends and foes;
Perhaps assassination proves his end.
The hapless Amnon from his couch arose,
Inflam'd with hatred more than once with love.
Frantick with keen remorse and conscious guilt,
He rav'd — he stamp'd — when to him Jonadab
Came to congratulate him; but the Prince
Shot from his eyes a keen malignant glance,
That spoke displeasure, and with threat'ning hand
Upheld, thus in an angry tone began:
Hence from my sight, thou basest, worst of fiends,
Nor ever dare approach my presence more.
Struck with this strange reception, Jonadab
Step'd back, and bowing with respectful awe,
Said, — O my Prince, why am I thus discarded?
I still remain thy well affected friend,
Ready to — prompt me, (interrupts the Prince)
To do some greater crime than I have done.
Curse on thy instigations; to my heart,
My inexperienc'd heart thou drilld'st a way
T' infuse licentiousness; and thou a friend?
Ere thou presum'st to take that sacred name,
Abandon thy base principles, and learn
'Tis virtue only constitutes a friend.
He paus'd — th' astonish'd Jonadab approach'd
Nearer to Amnon; beg'd him to resume
His wonted calmness, but to hear him speak.
I'll hear no more of thee, reply'd the Prince;
I'm lost, I'm irrecoverably lost:
What were the pains I felt to those I feel?
An hell within me burns, and deep remorse,
That never dying worm, now gnaws my soul;
And thou, my instigator. Villain, flee,
Lest this my crime I complicate with murder.
Then Jonadab withdrew chagrin'd, and full
Of ran'crous malice; mutt'ring as he went,
Shall murder crown thy crime young man? — it shall;
But thou the murder'd, — not the murderer.
I'll hence to Absalom, the brother kind
Of this fair injur'd maid; he doubtless will
Avenge her wrongs, and shew himself a brother.
He has a noble, calm, undaunted spirit;
Deliberately resolute, and fit
For such an enterprize; and Jonadab
Shall not be slack to aggravate the crime,
And urge him on, or aid him, if requir'd.
But I must veil my real sentiments
With counterfeited sorrow, and observe
Each secret movement of his varying soul,
And sympathise with him. Young Absalom
Returning from the fields, where he had been
To view his teeming flocks, jocund and gay,
In all the sprightliness of youth and beauty,
Upon his slow-pac'd mule rode gently on
In careless attitude, and smil'd to see
All nature smile around; when Jonadab,
With solitary gait, approach'd, then turn'd
Aside, as if to shun the Royal youth;
Which Absalom perceiving, stopp'd his mule,
And leaning on his neck, with courteous air
Thus Jonadab in gentlest tone address'd:
What mean those solemn looks, that down-cast eye?
Now peace and plenty bless our happy land:
Joy should methinks extend its cheering ray
To ev'ry individual; but thou
Look'st half dejected, wand'ring in the fields
At this late hour; the day is in decline;
The shepherds to their folds have led their flocks,
And to their peaceful homes are hast'ning. Come,
Return with me, my friend, nor farther go;
If ought distress thee, hide it not from me,
I have an heart to feel for the distress'd;
An hand too ever ready to revenge
The wrongs impos'd by violence and injustice
Smile and be happy, said the Royal youth;
And rising from his leaning posture, look'd
So gracefully endearing and so kind,
That Jonadab thus ventur'd to begin: —
'Tis not for me to smile, most noble Prince,
While inconsolable and unredress'd,
Dishonour'd Tamar weeps in bitter woe,
Dishonour'd, and by whom? says Absalom,
Name but the villain, vengeance on his head
Shall instant fall; this hand shall strike the blow.
Earth, canst thou bear the wretch's feet to touch
Thy surface, and not groan? Whoe'er he be,
The miscreant shall not see to-morrow' sun.
Too hasty, Prince, says Jonadab; be calm;
Recall the fatal sentence; tis too much
To raise thine hand against a brother's life,
Thine elder brother — Brother, said the Prince,
And is it possible my brother thus
Sould be deprav'd? my brother Amnon too?
O virtue, where dost thou reside, if not
In Amnon? but if he's thus lost to shame,
It cancels all the duty that I owe him;
Henceforth shall intercourse between us cease,
Till I have form'd a scheme to be reveng'd;
Amnon shall die, and die by Absalom.
Go Jonadab, go home, and secret keep
This purpose of my soul; — I'll be thy friend,
Said Absalom. — Then, onward as he pass'd,
Thus Jonadab congratulates himself:
Oh! happy I, no sooner have I lost
The favour of one Prince, but I have gain'd
Another; Absalom is more aspiring;
Not cool and passive, like the silly Amnon,
But pants to rule; he has a kingly spirit.
Once in his garden, as I lay conceal'd,
I heard him in soliloquy, "Oh! to reign —
To wield a sceptre and establish laws;
Oh! did the people seek to me for judgment,
And Princes wait for my decisive voice,
Ere they the cause determin'd; could I hear
The loud applauding multitude exclaim,
Long live King Absalom. " — He's fit to rule.
When Amnon is dispatch'd, perhaps he may
Assume the kingdom — Be it so, and I
Will be his ready agent, if he please,
To aid his plots, or form them. Oh! how sweet
The counsel that is fram'd to please our wills,
How readily adopted; how despis'd
That which is adverse, be it e'er so good.
But dear, dear self stands first in the account
Of friends, and that's the friend I'll ever serve:
Whether to Amnon or to Absalom
I pay external homage. If to me
This Absalom proves too imperious,
I'll aid the King, and keep myself secure.
Ay — that's the centre to which I must point
All schemes and plots; then smiling as he went,
With eager pace he hasten'd to his home.
Grief and revenge now labour'd in the breast
Of Absalom; but artfully he hides
The struggling passions; a composure feign'd,
Sits on his countenance with placid ease;
And he in seeming gaiety rode home.
His servants there in readiness attend,
Each anxious to receive the first command;
Nor fear unjust reproofs, nor angry frowns,
Th' unwelcome greetings of imperious Lords.
Too oft do masters, void of judgment, check,
By froward peevishness and discontent,
The many little assiduities,
Which otherwise a servant's zeal would mark,
Nor make distinction between good and bad;
But Absalom, with nicest judgment, scans
Their merits and defects; he in reproof
Is slowly cautious, and exactly just;
No clam'rous oaths re-eccho thro' his hall,
Nor mutt'ring servants whisper imprecations;
Tho' affable and courteous, yet he ne'er
To low familiarity descends;
But with great dignity is nobly kind,
Reigns in their hearts, and by enliv'ning smiles
Encourag'd, they spontaneously attend,
And love completes their servitude with joy,
So now, as always at their lord's approach,
A secret transport thrill'd thro' ev'ry heart.
The gate one open'd, one receiv'd the mule,
Whilst he dismounting with a sprightly bound,
Tripp'd lightly o'er the pavement; and those eyes
Which ever spread serenity around,
Sparkled with seeming pleasure till he came,
Ent'ring his mansion, to where Tamar sat
In the most striking attitude of woe;
Her head, bestrew'd with ashes and reclin'd,
One trembling hand supported; th' other hid
Among the fragments of her robe, which she
In the first agonies of her grief had torn.
He stopp'd, turn'd pale; then in his changing face
Resentment flush'd, and sorrow swell'd his heart,
Which lab'ring to suppress he trembling stood;
But like a torrent, which breaks down a bank
New rais'd to stop its course, so burst his grief
Thro' all his feign'd composure. In his arms
He clasp'd the grieving fair, and mutual tears
Proclaim'd the anguish of their burden'd hearts,
But tho' his sorrow thus had burst its bounds,
Revenge in ambush lurk'd, while thus the Prince
With soothing words his sister thus address'd, —
I know the sad occasion of thy woe;
But he's thy brother; silent bear thy wrongs,
Nor by immod'rate grief enhance the ill
Which cannot be redress'd. No blame is thine;
My sister still in heart is undesil'd.
Tamar attempts reply; but from their springs
In swifter currents flow'd the briny pearls;
At length the pow'r of speech return'd, the fair
Heav'd a deep sigh, and thus her moan began, —
O injury unparallel'd! O deed
More cruel than the murd'rers deadly blow!
He takes our life, 'twas lent but for a time;
Perhaps some years — perhaps a day — an hour:
But he that robs a woman of her honour,
Robs her of more than life; — a brother too
Still aggravates the guilt. — O purity,
Thou first of female charms, to thee we owe
Our dignity; which, if in meekness clad,
Gives us insuperable pow'r; but, if
Of this depriv'd, our most presumpt'ous claim
Is cool compassion. O dejected state!
That humble homage we receive from men,
In such proportion as our virtue fails,
Diminishes. Th' inestimable gem,
More precious than fine gold or rubies, — far
Outvies the dazzling rays of beaut'ous forms,
Which like gay meteors but excite our gaze,
Then fade away. But this pre-eminence
No more I boast; now stamp'd with infamy,
That due respect, that def'rence ever paid
To my exalted state shall hence be chang'd
To scorn: tho' by the dignity of birth
Protected from low insult, can I 'scape
The meaning leer, the vain contemptuous smile,
Or, the more humbling pity of the proud?
Such moving strains in Absalom call'd forth
All the fond raptures of fraternal love;
Who thus consol'd her grief, — thou ne'er shalt be
Abandon'd to the scorn of taunting dames,
Who triumph in the downfal of the fair.
My home be ever thine; in me behold
Thy guardian, brother, friend, companion kind.
'T shall be my earliest and my latest care,
With chearful converse to enliv'n thy hours;
All thou canst with, which I have pow'r to grant,
Expect from me. His sister gave her hand,
An earnest of conformity — he press'd
The giv'n pledge; her grateful heart reply'd, —
O brother, always kind, now doubly so,
To ope thy friendly arms in this distress,
And take me to protection: I accept
Thy offer'd boon. Farewell, ye courtly scenes;
No more shall Tamar shine in your resorts;
But here recluse and tranquil ever 'bide;
Regaling in that never-cloying feast,
Th' internal calm of an untainted mind.
This none can ravish from me; this is life.
That God which rais'd my father to the throne,
And still protects him with his pow'rful arm,
Shall be my all in all. To him I'll pray
Incessant, and the great Jehovah's name
Shall fire my theme, and fill my heav'nly song.