To the Ingenious Mr. Barker. Saul's Witch of Endor

A Long and prosperous Reign had Saul enjoy'd,
With the excess of Peace and Plenty cloy'd,
Of dayly Triumphs and new Trophies proud,
Not one Eclipse, nor melancholy Cloud;
In Peace, his Peoples Guardian, and their Shield,
Always his Arms victorious in the Field;
Fraught with Success, and passive Duty crown'd,
None that durst question his Proceedings, found,
When now for Bloud his thirsty Spirits crav'd,
(Like Diomede's Horses) he for Man's flesh rav'd.
His Sword already had been satisfy'd,
Reaking from Enemy's fresh Wounds, new dy'd
With purple Gore and a polluted Tide.
Well then for change, th' ungrateful wretch intends
To sheath it in the bosom of his Friends:
And he must have that Life, that was laid down
For God's, for Israel's Honour, and the Crown;
When conscious Jealousie, and pretended Zeal,
Upon Ambition whet the envious Steel.
David, who did a Miracle for Saul,
Must stand a Mark for Javilins at the Wall:
Goliah's head, must make him lose his own,
Because he kill'd the Monster, he alone,
With a small Sling and little Pebble-stone.
Because he did that which none else could do,
Six Cubits with five hundred Shekels slew.
Unhappy Youth! whose service thus repaid
By him that must have fal'n, without thy aid!
And must his Life and Kingdom be restor'd,
To kill thee with the same Victorious Sword?
In what, innocent Youth! couldst thou offend?
A crime to be a Saviour and a Friend?
No Arms wast thou beholden to from Saul;
A little Stone, and Leather Thong was all.
Goliah did not challenge, but defy,
Not only Treason belch, but Blasphemy:
If to save Saul's a capital offence,
Thy death be justify'd by that pretence,
It cannot be imputed sin or shame,
To stand up bravely for Jehovah's Name.
Nor can they make out any other Plea,
To tax thee with the least disloyalty:
For David never yet his Prince forsook,
Ambitious only of a Shepherds Crook.
Nothing receiv'd, but what was justly due,
Nor that, till promis'd once, and proffer'd too.
Here by the way, could I sit down, and shed
Whole flouds of Tears for thee, and in thy stead
Lay down my Soul, the Javelin cuts the Air,
And trembling glances through the Champion's hair:
Thou stand'st upon thy guard, thy own defence,
Arm'd only with the Mail of Innocence.
Canst unconcern'd, upon thy Musick play,
And to thy Harp again another day.
To see thy troubles and to trace thy flight,
Unsafe by day, yet less secure by night;
Thy Wife expos'd to danger for thy sake,
Must one distracted Vow of Duty break:
Jonathan must renounce Father, or Friend,
Or else his life, in death for David spend.
But causelesly we all our Tears impart,
God needs must love the Image of his heart:
And as he can, he will his Darling save,
And bury all his troubles in the Tyrant's Grave.
Here then we trust him to th' Almighty's hand,
And the Philistins now invade the Land.
The Scene is chang'd, and for a single Flea
Men, like the Sands or Waves upon the Sea,
Gigantick Warriours, Trees for Javelins wield,
And strut along, and challenge all the Field.
What should Saul do? God and Man persecute;
His Dreams are silent, and his Prophets mute:
Urim's forgot its old prophetick strain,
And Saul's among the Prophets too in vain.
Witches dare only be with Imps possest,
And carry their Familiars in their Breast.
'Tis Death, to draw a Circle in the Sand;
'Tis Death, to have but a Magicians Wand:
Yet for all this (thô it seem something odd)
The Devil must be the Messenger of God.
But hard necessity maintains his Cause,
To break through God's, his own, and Kingdom's Laws.
A Witch, or no Witch, he would only learn
Th'unknown Event of such a Great Concern.
To Endor then, but not without disguise,
In the extremity of madness wise;
Where first on God, he for the Devil does call,
For she was less afraid of him, than Saul,
And with an Oath confirming his design,
To these infernal Rites conjures divine.
When to her Cabin now the Witch returns,
Sulphur and Pitch, mixt in a Cauldron, burns:
Infusing Vervain, Moly, Night-shade, Rue,
Then on the Floor five Magick Circles drew,
With gloomy Cypress round her Temples twin'd,
She scatter'd dead mens Ashes to the Wind;
Thrice Salt and Bran, Venefick Offerings strow'd,
Pouring out thrice a Black fleec'd Lamb's warm Bloud,
And burning Poeony, Fern, and Heliochryse,
She strikes upon her hollow Cymbal thrice;
And heaving, swelling, foaming, then she cries,
With an infernal Howl, Rise, Samuel, rise.
The parting Ground was with Convulsions torn,
By subterraneous Winds he upwards born,
Wrapt in his Prophet's Mantle, like a God,
In a bright Fiery Chariot, whirling rode.
But the Witch trembling at so strange a sight,
And terrify'd with so divine a Light,
Cried out; and what through wonder, and surprize,
Knew not the Fiend assuming that disguise.
But eager Saul still pressing her to tell
What she had wrought by virtue of the Spell,
Samuel thus preventing silence broke,
With profound Reverence, in soft Whispers spoke.
Saul! Saul! why troublest thou my Soul at rest?
My Soul, to leave the Mansions of the Blest?
Why, raising Tumults thus among the Just,
Offer'st thou Violence to my sacred Dust?
Why ransackest my Grave? and summon'st me
From my Long Home, Seat of Eternitie?
But Saul, big with Repentance in his Eyes,
And with a Heart as full of Grief, replies:
It was thy Office, Samuel, once to bless;
Canst thou not pity now in my distress?
When the Philistins dare new Wars proclaim,
Defie my Hosts, despise my Royal Name,
Whether to set up David in my Throne,
Or take my Life, God knows, and God alone;
But this I know, God fights against me too:
What should a Prince, when thus forsaken, do?
By God, by Man cast off, disdain'd, forlorn,
My Peoples Burthen, and my Enemy's Scorn;
His Vengeance persecutes me, wretched Saul!
The Curse of God, and a Reproach to all;
My Prophets silent, and my inspir'd Lute,
Together with my Dreams and Visions, mute:
Therefore it is, by a more powerful Spell,
I call thee up, for thou alone canst tell
What a distress'd, abandon'd Prince can do;
Thô God hath left me, let not Samuel too.
Thus trembling Saul bow'd his Anointed Head,
When Samuel thus in hollow Murmurs said:
Can I, poor Saul! reason the Case with God?
Put by the stroak of an Almighty Rod?
Can I, without Heaven's license, stand thy Friend,
If God will?—and he will thy Kingdom rend.
Good David must and shall thy Scepter sway;
Gladly will Israel such a Prince obey:
More gladly slip thy Yoak from off their neck,
The Yoak thou shouldst have put on Amalek;
But him, the Enemy of all that's good,
Glutted with Lust, and surfeited with Blood,
With Blasphemy swoln big, corrupt within
With spurious Seed of every deadly Sin,
With whom thou shouldst have sworn immortal hate,
As false to God, and dangerous to thy State;
That Kingdom thou establishest by Peace,
Dost Amalek for David's Life release;
A thousand Shams, to put him by, contrive,
But maugre all, David shall King survive.
Trust in Suspence, hope only in Despair,
Thy Kingdom's won before 'tis lost: Prepare
To meet with Fate; for all thy Hosts shall flie,
Thou and thy Sons to morrow be with me.
This said, surprizing Horror swell'd his Veins,
And his sick mind anticipates his pains;
Speechless and cold, he falls upon his Face,
In Frenzy would the fleeting Air embrace,
But Samuel he returns unto his place.