summer now came smiling on,
Exciting ev'ry peaceful breast to mirth;
But Amnon meets with tears the fatal season:
This sad remembrancer of his past crime
Awoke his grief, and from his couch he rose
Ere yet th' approaching day began to dawn,
While the full moon reign'd mistress of the night.
Sleep on, ye sons of innocence and ease,
(The restless Amnon with a sigh exclaim'd,
As from his window high he cast a look
Over the silent streets, for not a voice
Disturb'd the solemn hour) sleep on — sleep on:
So was I wont to sleep away the night,
Rise with the morn, and in the day rejoice:
But now in morn or night, or sleep or 'wake,
I feel no joy. Oh that I could forget
I once was happy! Oh that this one step,
One erring step, should kill my peace for ever.
O moon, I blush beneath thy silver beams;
I've ost beheld thee with exulting heart,
But now I shrink at ev'ry thing that's pure:
A modest virgin, innocent and fair,
Strikes terror to my soul: to me she seems
Exalted high above my fallen state:
If such an one I venture to approach,
I instantly recoil, and justly pay
A secret adoration to the breast
Of innocence; for Oh! what parity
Can there subsist 'twixt innocence and guilt?
The world's reproaches and censorious sneers
Harrow the heart and aggravate the sense:
But yet that aggravation poiz'd against
The pangs of guilt, is of but little weight:
The world offended may again be won,
Or all its vain reproaches set at nought,
When the heart, firmly steel'd with innocence,
Shrinks not, but rises with true nobleness,
Superior to the grov'ling sons of vice,
And smiles at pow'rless envy. — But alas!
To me returns, whether of day or night,
Aid sharp reflection and new point its spears.
Now waking birds in chearful concert join.
Their ev'ry note proclaims them innocent.
The fun arises and the world awakes;
The Prince retires with melancholy steps
Into his garden, where recluse and still
Beneath the arching boughs of shady trees,
With head declin'd and arms lock'd round his breast,
He sigh'd the heavy slow-pac'd hours away;
'Till interrupted by a messenger,
Who, with due deference approaching near,
Thus spake: O Prince, I come from Absalom,
His sheep he shears to-morrow, and intreats
Thee, with thy Royal brothers, to partake
The feast, and spend with him the day in mirth.
Surprize and pleasure rush'd into his heart
At such an unexpected invitation,
Which he accepted, nor did hesitate
One moment to resolve; for Amnon still
Was unsuspicious as an infant child,
That fearless trusts itself to ev'ry arm
That opens to recieve it. With quick step
He paces to and fro; his bosom glows,
And thus anticipates th' expected bliss.
O joyful day when I again shall meet
My dear offended brother, whom so long
I've cautiously avoided: his good will
Greatly exceeds my most advent'rous hope:
Forgetful of my faults, he kindly now
Invites me to his house, without reproach
Or intimation of my late misdeeds.
Yes, my good brother, I will be thy guest —
My grateful heart o'erflows; I now could fall
Down at thy feet, and from thy hand receive
The death I do deserve. Thus Amnon still,
In humble strain and true repentant heart,
Pour'd forth his soul in such foliloquies
All day and night, till in the morning fair,
The foremost of the princely cavalcade,
He gladly hasted to the fatal feast.
Now Absalom with secret pleasure sees
The long wisth'd day arrive, and in the morn
Assiduously in comely dress array'd
His lovely person, lovely in extreme:
Not in all Israel's num'rous tribes was found
His peer in beauty; for from head to foot
No blemish, no deformity was seen,
But well proportion'd limbs, and features fair,
With ev'ry natural, ev'ry borrow'd grace
That gives to beauty power. The conscious Prince
Omitted no external ornament
That might, if possible, such gifts improve:
But looking at his spotless hands, he said, —
Must these be dy'd in blood? a brother's blood?
No, I have servants, they shall give the blow.
Then to and fro he through his chamber stalk'd,
Revolving in his mind the consequence
Of op'ning his design. He paus'd, he thought
His servants might refuse — or worse, betray.
At length he says, — I'm wrong to censure them;
Great proofs I've had of their sidelity;
I'll trust them now. Then call'd he those he lov'd:
They came. He says, You have done all things well
According to my order for this feast,
But on your cares I can so well depend,
That whatsoever is given to your charge
I think no more of, for I've always found
You true and faithful; therefore I make choice
Of you for my accomplices this day:
'Tis not intended for a day of mirth,
As it appears, and must as yet appear
Till I've fulfill'd the purpose of my soul.
Our guests must sumptuously be entertain'd:
But when they have partook the rich repast,
And wine exhilerates and mirth prevails,
Be you prepar'd, and when I give the word,
Pierce Amnon to the heart, for he must die.
His servants tremble at the dire command.
Why tremble ye? said Absalom, fear not,
'Tis I command you — all the deed is mine;
Ye are but instruments within my grasp,
And of his blood are spotless: if there's guilt
In taking vengeance for the atrocious crime,
Let all that guilt be mine: since justice sleeps
In his fond father's hand, 'tis right that I
Assume the pow'r, and on his impious head
Hurl vengeance. But observe, it next behoves
Us to evade the storm that will ensue:
In Geshur we shall find a safe retreat:
My fleetest horses for the flight prepare:
Soon as the wound is given, we'll mount and flee;
Swift as the sweeping winds we'll o'er the hills,
And leave the King to bury him, and mourn.
His servants, more by love than duty bound,
All bow'd obedient to his sov'reign will.
Now came the Royal guests, and Amnon first
Dismounting from his mule, with conscious blush
And fault'ring voice thus ventur'd to address
Th' offended brother: — O my Absalom,
Forgive, he said — and interrupting tears
Pleading more pow'rfully than eloquence,
Stagger'd the purpose of Maacah's son,
And in his feeling soul a conflict rais'd
Betwixt his brother's life and sister's fame:
He silent paus'd; but in his breast revenge
Was too deep rooted by a two year's growth
For one soft moment to eradicate:
He therefore wip'd away a piteous tear,
And made to Amnon this compos'd reply:
I did not send for thee to weep and mourn;
To-day I have a feast; this prosp'rous year
Increasing flocks increase the shepherds joy:
Rejoice with me, my brother, and be glad.
Then did he warmly press his hand, and point
The chiefest place. The Prince shed tears of joy,
Then fat him down, forgot his grief and smil'd.
Wine in profusion sparkled in the bowls,
Inspiring social mirth; they freely quaff'd;
But Absalom th' emolient draught evades,
Lest it relax his stern determination;
But quick replenishes the sinking bowls,
Pressing on all the intoxicating cup,
'Till mirth predominates, and ev'ry heart
Expands with social freedom; Absalom
Then gives the fatal word; his servants plunge
The destin'd dart, and from the Prince's side
Gush'd forth life's reeking stream — he fell — uprose
In consternation those whom vengeance spar'd,
Each trembling for his life; confus'd they fled:
Mingling with gore, the wine in currents flow'd;
While, rolling in the flood, the murder'd Prince
Alone, in all the agonies of woe,
Groan'd out his soul, and clos'd his eyes in death.