DAVID.

OH for one kindling ray of heavenly light!

Some emanation from that source Divine,

Which ope'd its flood-gates on thy glowing soul, Immortal Bard of Sion-lofty strains

And holy song inspiring-to illume

My humbler lay, which, emulous of thee,
Sweet Harmonist! would yet assay to make
Judgment and Mercy it's adopted theme.

Aid me then, heavenly Minstrel, if with souls In earth embodied, spirits blest may hold Desired communion-intercourse sublime! Aid me, O son of Jesse, from that height, Where now thy tuneful Harp responsive joins Angelic Hallelujahs-hymning praise

To God's eternal Glory.-So was tuned

Thy Harp long since, in Gibeah's royal hall,

Awakening sounds of such sweet melody

That Envy's madd'ning rage was calm'd-and sooth'd

Demoniac phrenzy.-Give me then to catch

Thy inspiration, as Elisha caught

His master's falling mantle-soft and sweet

As Carmel's mountain breeze, or Hermon's dew,

Let it refresh my languid powers, my song

Invigorate-my numbers raise

For, holy Prophet, I would sing of thee.

Yet not thy youthful prowess would I sing,

When with that fearless vigilance, which marks
The good and guardian shepherd, thou didst seize
The fierce invaders of thy peaceful fold,
And save thy little trembler.-Nor repeat

The song triumphant for thy wond'rous deeds
Achieved in Elah's valley, where the proud
And vaunting Champion felt the mortal force
Of thy despised pebble.-Nor recount

Thy perils imminent, when hunted down

By Saul's inveterate hate.-Nor tell, though sweet The tale, of that pure love which knit thy soul

In bonds of mutual faith with Jonathan,

That tender pleader of thy righteous cause,
E'en while his mystic arrows pointed out
Thy pathway to his kingdom.-Neither tell
How beauteous Abigail, with prudent zeal,
And well-timed courtesy, appeased thy wrath
Against her churlish Lord, and won thy love:
Nor yet-O wretched parent! would I sing
Thy deepest woe-the soul-subduing grief,
Which bow'd thy mighty head for thy lost son,
Rebellious Absalom.-Nor would I chaunt
The praises due to thy religious joy,

When to the sound of tabret, harp and lute,
Thou led'st the dance before the holy ark,
In honour of thy God.-No; none of these,
But of thy fall, O David! would I sing—
Thy lapse from virtue-Thy unjust decree,

Unwittingly denounced against thyself;
Thy penitence sincere-thy will resign'd,
And pious hope by steadfast faith sustain’d.

These would I sing, to warn my tender flock;

Lest, trusting in their own unaided strength,
Too confident, their erring steps might slide.
These would I sing, that, should my wanderers stray

From duty's path, to tread the flowery maze
Of sin's enticing snare, they may discern,
Ere darkness shroud them, the forsaken road.
Rugged indeed the backward path may seem;
But it is safe and certain, and will give

More cautious treading to their future steps.

These would I sing, that, should the hand of Heaven It's chastisements inflict, their hearts may bend

Submissive to the rod; for chasten'd sons

Are sons beloved.-God, who abhorreth sin,

Yet on the sinner casts a pitying eye,

And tempers wrath with mercy: Mercy drew
The eternal Godhead from his heavenly throne,

And that bless'd attribute redeem'd a world.

Say then, thou form'd for virtue, what induced

Thy fatal falling off? How did the Fiend

Seize thy unguarded inadvertent hour?

Did slumber close thy Guardian Spirit's eye,

Which should have watch'd each path that led to ill? No-Israel's Keeper slumbers not-nor sleeps;

But thou wert traitor to thyself, and set

Thy portals wide to let the tempter in :

An idle hour, which should on better thoughts
Have been employ'd, induced a sinful wish:

That wish, indulged, to guilty action led

And made the Foe triumphant ;-these I sing.

"Twas evening, when the gentle breath of Heaven, Fragrant and mild, play'd o'er the sun-burnt earth

Restoring Nature's bloom, which erst had droop'd