210
COWLEY'S POEMS.
[B. I.
The barbarous patient casts at him his spear
(The usual sceptre that rough hand did bear),
Casts it with violent strength; but into th' room
An arm more strong and sure than his was come;
An Angel, whose unseen and easy might 530
Put-by the weapon, and misled it right.
How vain man's power is! unless God command,
The weapon disobeys his master's hand;
Happy was now the error of the blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so. 535
One would have thought, Saul's sudden rage t' have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been:
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his honour now engag'd i' th' sin;
A bloody troop of his own guards he sends 540
(Slaves to his will, and falsely call'd his friends)
To mend his error by a surer blow;
So Saul ordain'd, but God ordain'd not so.
Home flies the Prince, and to his trembling wife
Relates the new-past hazard of his life; 545
Which she with decent passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair eyes she lov'd so well.
Upon their palace' top, beneath a row
Of lemon-trees—which there did proudly grow,
And with bright stores of golden fruit repay 550
The light they drank from the sun's neighbouring ray—
(A small but artful Paradise) they walk'd,
And hand in hand sad gentle things they talk'd.
(The usual sceptre that rough hand did bear),
Casts it with violent strength; but into th' room
An arm more strong and sure than his was come;
An Angel, whose unseen and easy might 530
Put-by the weapon, and misled it right.
How vain man's power is! unless God command,
The weapon disobeys his master's hand;
Happy was now the error of the blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so. 535
One would have thought, Saul's sudden rage t' have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been:
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his honour now engag'd i' th' sin;
A bloody troop of his own guards he sends 540
(Slaves to his will, and falsely call'd his friends)
To mend his error by a surer blow;
So Saul ordain'd, but God ordain'd not so.
Home flies the Prince, and to his trembling wife
Relates the new-past hazard of his life; 545
Which she with decent passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair eyes she lov'd so well.
Upon their palace' top, beneath a row
Of lemon-trees—which there did proudly grow,
And with bright stores of golden fruit repay 550
The light they drank from the sun's neighbouring ray—
(A small but artful Paradise) they walk'd,
And hand in hand sad gentle things they talk'd.
