Ammon's wasted cities, with the crown
Of Hanun, their proud contumacious King,
Whose insolence had caus'd his overthrow,
The conquering King of Israel return'd
In glorious triumph to Jerusalem;
There from exhausting toils of bloody war
In safety to repose his wearied soul,
And taste the sweets of calm domestic bliss.
But ere the tumults of triumphal joy
Subsided, and the sacred rites perform'd
Of general praises with the harp and song,
The King's long-wish'd tranquility's disturb'd
By the sad news, that Amnon, his dear son,
A captive now to dang'rous sickness lies,
While life and death dispute their doubtful right.
The pious King laid down his harp, the song
Unfinish'd, and with anxious haste repair'd
To Amnon, whose dissimulation pass'd
Quite unsuspected. How could he suspect
A fraud of such sort in a virtuous son?
Full oft a partial parent overlooks
An obvious fault, or by affection blind
Discerns it not; but here no cause appear'd
T' awake suspicion, for his languid eyes
And palid cheeks gave signals of disease.
While thus the son in feeble tone complain'd,
The tender father stooping low to hear, —
I'm very sick, and whatsoever food
My servants here prepare, gives me disgust.
My sister Tamar, with superior skill,
Prepares a cake delicious to my taste;
This I could eat methinks from her kind hand,
Was she permitted to attend me here.
The King with fond solicitude retir'd,
And speedily dispatch'd a messenger
To Tamar, saying, 'twas his royal will,
That she should go direct to Amnon's house,
And there administer, with friendly aid,
Whate'er his sickly appetite demands.
The hour had pass'd, at which the royal maid
Came from her closet, splendidly attir'd;
Her hair with precious sparkling gems beset,
Faint mimicks of her more illustrious eyes.
About her neck a shining golden chain,
And o'er her loosely thrown, in careless folds,
A various colour'd robe, which, as she mov'd,
Trail'd on the ground, or flutter'd in the wind.
Thus all the virgin daughters of the King
In splendid raiment shone; but none so bright
In beauty, as the daughter of Maacah.
Soon as the sun had drank the morning dew,
Into her garden walk'd the lovely fair;
Not like a proud imperious haughty Queen,
With tossing head and scornful eyes, that glar'd
Malignant, scattering discontent around,
And vain in fancied greatness. Greater she
In inoffensive modesty, and bright
In virtue, as the rays that gild the morn,
Warming the flow'rs to ripeness, and exhaling
Their various sweets to fill the garden air.
Pleas'd with the grateful smell, she skips about
From flow'r to flow'r, and cautiously selects
The sweetest in a wreath, to deck that breast,
Which never yet inflam'd by vicious thought,
Or by unreasonable rebukes depress'd,
Had felt a secret pang, or learn'd to sigh.
But oh! how happy for the mortal race,
That from their eyes the future is obscur'd;
Did we but know the secret ills that wait
In darkness to surprize us, what would be
Our life, but one sad scene of misery?
All present pleasures would be bitter made
By aggravating thoughts of ills to come.
But blind to future things the present bless.
When peace and plenty smile auspiciously,
The heart with sense of Providence impress'd
O'erflows with gratitude, and conscious joy.
Such joy now fill'd the royal fair one's breast,
Intent on the formation of her wreath;
When lo! her handmaid came to her in haste,
With tidings, that a message had arriv'd
Straight from the King, declaring his desire,
That she to Amnon's house immediately
Would go, and dress him cakes, for he is sick.
The King's command she instantly obey'd;
Down dropt the unfinish'd wreath; she skimm'dalong
O'er the parterres, nor stay'd to find the path.
Her sweeping garments gently brush'd the flow'rs;
The ripest shedding, strew'd the way she went
With variegated fragments. So the breeze
Whisks o'er the forest, and some shatt'ring leaves
Fall gently rustling thro' the shrubs beneath.
Then, gath'ring up her robe, she onward sprang,
And sisterly affection urg'd her haste.
Amnon in highest expectation lyes
Counting the-slow-pac'd moments as they pass'd;
Now thinks his scheme's discover'd — he's betray'd —
Or some curs'd intervening accident
Delays, perhaps prevents her coming. Thus
Doubts, fears, and wild impatience in his breast
Tumultuously contended, till she came,
With all the feelings of a tender sister;
But not a thought of vile licentious love
Profan'd her breast; to see him thus she wept,
But turning, wip'd her tears, suppress'd her grief,
And with officious haste the cakes prepar'd.
Wisdom has pow'r, like the meridian fun,
To hide all other brightness in its glare;
But virgin modesty, with winning smiles,
Shines a perpetual morning. So she shone
Serenely mild, nor knew her pow'r to please.
But oh! the graceful dignity of virtue
Unthinking captivates the worthy soul,
The feebly good with emulation fires,
And strikes the very libertines with awe.
So Amnon, aw'd to see her lovely form,
Became irresolute; and recantation
Stagger'd his purpose. — First he paus'd; then thus
Expostulating with himself he lay;
Oh! how can I despoil this lovely maid,
This fairest of the fair? I cannot — no —
I'll let her go untouch'd. But then must I
Still pine in languishment, as heretofore;
And Jonadab will at my weakness laugh.
At last some wine he snatch'd, and eager drank
To drown his scruples, and to fire his soul.
Such aid the most abandoned oft require,
When unsuspecting innocence at once
Tempts and forbids, more pow'rfully forbids,
Than the persuasive eloquence of speech.
But the defence, which innocence can boast
With tears and mild intreaties, is but weak,
When love and wine unite their frantick pow'rs,
And leaving virtue fainting in the rear,
Rush on impetuous. — Hapless Tamar thus
To lawless outrage falls th' unwilling prey.