Gilboa

When Saul was king of Hebrews —
Alas, the heedless king! —
Our land was full of sorrows,
Our strength a feeble thing;
For Saul, the false and fickle,
Forgot the Lord's command
To hold in hate the heathen
And drive them from the land.

He spared the life of Agag,
Who ravaged Israel's coasts;
The sons of cruel Edom
Were captains in his hosts;
The bands of thievish Amalek
Bare Ephraim's lance and shield;
Yea, many were the aliens
Who marched with him afield.

Because of this his kingdom
Was rent with grievous ills;
The hordes of gentiles ravaged
Our fruitful vales and hills;
They stripped us and disarmed us
From Jordan to the mere;
Yea, scarce a man in Canaan
Had buckler, brand, or spear.

In all those days of battle
The fiercest of our foes
Were they who held the seacoast
That south to Egypt goes,
The pale and tall Philistim
Who came from Japheth's isles,
The men of brazen armor
Who charged in ordered files.

O princes of Philistia,
How often have ye shed
The lifeblood of our warriors
And robbed our babes of bread!
How often have ye herded
Our gracious youths for slaves,
And sold our tender maidens
Beyond the sunset waves!

And now again ye gather
To slaughter us like sheep;
Your tents are pitched in Shunem
Before Gilboa's steep;
Ye lift your gleaming bucklers
Against a naked swarm;
And Israel sees, affrighted,
Your serried phalanx form.

Yea, mighty was the terror
That shook our brothers' souls;
They lurked within Gilboa
Like foxes in their holes;
The hireling braves of Amalek
And Edom ceased to boast,
And even war-worn Abner
Was whiter than a ghost.

In vain our noble princes,
The warrior sons of Saul,
Went forth with smiling faces
And cheerly spake to all;
In vain the valiant Jonathan,
The kingliest of the three,
Said, "God hath often helped us;
So wherefore should we flee?"

No man of those who listened
Could muster heart of hope;
All eyes were set in anguish
On Shunem's brazen slope;
We heard across the valley
The foe's defiant cheer;
We saw, we heard, nor ever stirred
The livelong day for fear.

Yea, none would leave the mountain
Except the light-armed men;
And they set on but shyly,
And quickly turned agen.
Our slingers lurked in coverts
And cast with feeble throw,
While boldly shot the archers
Who drew the Cretan bow.

So passed a day of waiting
While each surveyed the field,
The foe secure of triumph,
Our hearts prepared to yield;
So passed a day of skirmish,
And when the sun went down,
No heart, I think, was sadder
Than his who wore the crown.

He sought a lonely thicket;
He bowed his head to earth.
"O El!" he prayed, "O Yahveh,
Who gave the Hebrews birth!
O Mighty One of Jacob
Who brought us from Misraim!
Adoniáh of battles,
I call upon Thy name!

"Thou heedest not our altars,
Though rich with fat and gore;
Thine oracles are silent,
Thy prophets speak no more;
And now thou helpest aliens
To drive us from our place.
O Yahveh of the Hebrews,
Why hidest thou thy face?

"Once more upon thy people
Let all thy mercies shine;
Send down some helping angel,
Accord some gracious sign;
Fulfill our hearts with valiance,
Strike dumb the heathens' boasts;
And when we smite for Israel,
Be there, O Lord of Hosts!"

He prayed; but naught responded;
No seraph flew anear;
No brightness shone of Urim;
No prophet brought him cheer;
And when he sank in slumber
God sent him dreams abhorred:
He woke and cried in anguish,
"I cannot find the Lord."

He rose; he changed his vesture;
He laid his crown aside;
He called his heathen henchmen,
And through the night he hied.
"I go to seek the wizards,"
He muttered, mad with grief;
"There was a God in Shiloh,
But he is dead or deaf."

He rode; he came to Endor,
Where dwelt a withered crone
Who ruled familiar demons
And showed the things unknown, —
An evil crone who worshipped
The gods of olden days
When giants reared the temples
Ye find in desert ways.Dolmens, menhirs and stone circles still exist in Palestine, especially in Gilead and Bashan.

The sky was hung with blackness,
No aster pierced the night;
Yet far away her cabin
Revealed a spectral light, —
A light like that which glimmers
From wood of mouldered trees,
A light like that which chases
The galley through the seas.

He won the door and entered,
Yet found no taper there,
Nor ever knew what lustre
It was that rayed the air.
He stood with covered visage:
The beldame rose in dread.
"Why comest thou?" she queried.
"On thee be peace!" he said.

"Fear not, O cunning woman.
No man shall do thee harm.
I come to seek the spirits
Thou knowest how to charm.
Now use thy divinations,
However weird they be,
And summon him from Sheol
Whom I shall name to thee."

She answered, "Lo, thou kennest
What Saul the king hath done,
How he hath slain my brethren,
The wizards, every one.
Of all who loved the demons
No creature lives but I.
Now wherefore dost thou purpose
A snare to make me die?"

"As El of Israel liveth,"
Replied the woful king,
No hurt shall come upon thee
For this or anything.
Now therefore speak the syllables
That even death can hear,
And call the awful spirit
Of Samuel, the Seer."

Her evil spells she muttered,
She wrought her magic might;
Then suddenly she uttered
A cry of great affright.
"Why seekest thou," she clamored,
"To lure me to my fall?
No common mortal art thou.
I know thee; thou art Saul." —

"Be not afraid," he bade her;
"What thing beholdest thou?" —
"I see the gods ascending
From earth," she said. "And now
I see behind them follow
An elder bent with years,
Whose mantle hides his visage,
As is the wont of seers."

Then quickly bowed the monarch,
He bowed upon his face,
For well he knew the prophet,
And much he craved his grace.
Alas, the king of sorrows!
How bitter was his dole
When sternly said the awful dead,
"Why troublest thou my soul?"

"Forgive me, O my father!"
Returned the stricken chief,
"The grave's repose is sacred,
But sacred too is grief.
I dared to vex thy slumber
Because our need is sore,
For Israel's foes are mighty
And Yahveh helps no more.

The legions of Philistim
Have gathered like a flood;
To-morrow morn the battle
Will roll its robes in blood;
Our breasts are bare of harness,
Our bravest are dismayed,
And Jacob's stem will perish
Unless the Lord shall aid.

"In vain I seek his visage,
In vain my altars rise;
He answers not by Urim,
Nor dreams, nor prophesies;
Wherefore, thou mighty phantom,
I dare to break thy sleep,
And ask how Ephraim's shepherd
May save his feeble sheep."

Then said the seer of Sheol,
"Why comest thou to me?
If God refuse his guidance,
What guidance can there be?
Behold the Lord performeth
According to his word;
The armies of the heathen
Are but Jehovah's sword.

"Go forth to fight and perish!
Death calls the mighty ones;
Yea, where I am thou comest,
To-morrow, with thy sons,
Thy princes and thy captains
And all the Hebrew band;
For El will help Philistia,
And none can stay His hand."

Thus spake the bodeful phantom,
And vanished into space,
While, crushed with grief, the fated chief
Fell fainting on his face.
What king had ever sorrow
So terrible as Saul,
Foredoomed to lose his people,
His crown, his sons, his all?

Alas! his swooning passes;
Its mercy may not stay;
He rises, mounts his courser
And swiftly rides away.
He goes to death, yet hastens
Without a halt or moan;
He speeds to fall with Israel,
His children and his throne.

Gilboa glowed with sunrise
When battle climbed its height;
On spear and shield and corselet
Fell sweet the morning light.
How splendid were the warriors
Who charged the Hebrew hold!
Yea, glorious was Philistia
With brass and steel and gold.

From rock to thicket clamber
The lurking Cherethites;
Their leathered arrows whistle
In swift and deadly flights;
From covert on to covert
The cunning archers win,
And slowly drive before them
The slings of Benjamin.

Behind, the spearmen follow
In deep and steady ranks;
Their pikes are dense as thickets
Of reeds on Jordan's banks;
Their shields are locked together
In straight and burnished walls,
And all their feet keep even beat
To ringing trumpet-calls.

What could the sons of Jacob,
What could their fragile darts,
Their feeble wicker bucklers,
Their naked limbs and hearts,
Against Philistia's cohorts,
Complete in brazen gear,
Who pushed with comrade shoulders
The long and weighty spear?

In vain they hurled the javelin,
In vain they swung the brand,
Or crept within the pike-points
To struggle hand to hand.
The shield repelled the missile,
The helmet turned the sword;
And all the while each thickened file
Of spearmen thrust and gored.

On throve the panting phalanx,
With slow and toilsome tread;
But every forward footstep
Bestrode the mangled dead.
Down went the best and foremost
Of Ephraim's mighty ones;
Right in the front of battle
Died Saul's great-hearted sons.

Still sounding high his battle-cry,
Still lifting glaive to strike,
The good and valiant Jonathan
Received the heathen pike;
And striving hard to rescue
His body from the foe,
His youthful brothers perished,
Returning blow for blow.

Afar, their father knew not
That they had sunk to rest;
He led his lordly household
Against Philistia's best;
Except the ranks of foemen
He saw not anything;
His royal brazen trumpet
Made all the mountain ring:
"And if I die," he shouted,
"At least I die a king!"

At last one sped and told him
His darling ones were slain.
"Now death," he said, "is welcome.
O Hebrews, charge again!"
But vain his call for vengeance,
And vain his eager steel;
Down go his first and bravest,
And back their comrades reel.

Back, fighting, bleeding, dying,
The Hebrews reeled in rout,
While forward strove the heathen
With stern, exulting shout.
All over Mount Gilboa
The greaved Achaean slew;
All over Mount Gilboa
The Cretan arrow flew.

Sore hampered by the tumult
Of bloody flight and chase,
The woful king of Israel
Drew back a little space;
Retired, yet often halted,
Unwilling yet to yield,
Though none remained to help him
But him who bare his shield.

Hard after him the archers
Pursued with twanging bow;
In vain he whirled his falchion
And laid the boldest low;.
They rallied and they volleyed,
They beat upon him sore;
And soon his burnished armor
Was dimmed with trickling gore.

So, seeing that his battle
Was drawing to its end,
He called to him who followed,
"Come hither, faithful friend!
Prevent the heathens' boasting;
Prevent their bow and spear.
Strike quickly! Strike and slay me
Before they draw anear!"

"Nay," wept the loyal servitor;
"I cannot smite my lord." —
Then bared the king his bosom,
And fell upon his sword;
Nor deigned the armor-bearer
To draw one further breath;
And there Philistia found them,
Secure and grand in death.

Ye mountains of Gilboa,
Let neither rain nor dew
Bedeck your lofty places
Nor tint your dells anew;
For there the blood of heroes
Was trampled into clay,
The buckler of the mighty
Was vilely cast away.

The beauteous ones of Israel
Are slain upon your heights.
How are the lofty fallen,
The chiefs of many fights!
Oh, tell it not in Askelon!
From Gath withold the voice!
Lest Dagon's prophets triumph
And Dagon's maids rejoice.

Weep, daughters of the Hebrews,
For Saul, the gracious king,
Who decked you fair with scarlet
And golden chain and ring!
For him and for his princes,
The eagles of our pride,
Who lived in lovely concord
And undivided died!