A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

PODIB 01' TBB BOCLA.L AlfD DOKJ!8TIO J.7rBC1'10ll'8. 201

Whoee diamond!! lit the paaaage of his blade,

Reeted, like mockery, on hie cover'd brow.

The eoldiera of the king trod to and fro,

Clad in the garb of battle; and t heir chie~

The mighty J"oab, stood beeide the bier,

And gazed upon the dark pall stadfaaUy,

As ifhe fe11r'd the elumberer might stir.

A. slow step startled him. He graap'd his blade

As if a trumpet rang; but the \lent Corm

Of David enter'd 1 and he gave comiDAIId,

ln a low tone, to his few followers,

AndleR him with his dead. The Icing atood 11till

Till the laat echo died: then, thl'OWing olf

The sackcloth from his brow, and laying b&ck

The pall from the still feato1•ea of hie c6ild,

H e bow'd his head upon him, and broke forth

In the resi.etleaa eloquence of woe :

.. A.laa I my noble boy! th&t thou sbonld'lt die!

Thou, who wert tnAde eo beautifully fair I

That death should settle in thy glorious eye,

And leave hie atilln8811 in this clustering hair I

How could he mark thee for the eilent tomb I

My proud boy, Absalom I

" Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill,

As to my bosom I have tried to prees thee I

How was I wont to feel my pnlaea thrill,

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to careaa thee,

.And bear thy sweet 'my father I ' from theee dumb

And cold lips, Absalom I

"But death is on thee: I shall bear tl.te gush
Of music, and tlle voices of the young;
.And life will p&88 me in the mantling blu.ah,
And the dark treaeee to the eon winds fiung;-
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt co we
'J'o meet me, Absalom I

(^11) And ob! when I o.m stricken, and my heart,
Like a bruised reed, i.e waiting to be broken,
HoW' will ita love for ~hee as I depart,
Yearn for thine ear to drl.nk its laat deep toktn l
It were ao aweet amid dea~b'a gatlleriug gloom,
To 11ee thee, Abea.lom l