Manoa, the father of Samfon.
Dalila his wife.
The Scene before the prison in Gaza.
Samf. A Little onward lend thy guiding hand
To thefe dark fteps, a little farther on;
For yonder bank hath choice of fun or fhade,
There I am wont to fit, when any chance
Relieves me from my talk of fervile teil,
Daily in the common prison elfe enjoin'd me,
Where I as pris'ner chain'd, fcarce freely draw
The air imprifon'd alfo, clofe and damp,
Unwholfom draught; but here I feel amends,
The breath of heav'n fresh blowing, pure and fweet,
With day-fpring born; here leave me to refpire.
This day a folemn feaft the people hold
To Dagon their fea idol, and: forbid
Laborious works, unwillingly this rest
Their fuperftition yields me; hence with leave
Retiring from the poplar.noife, I feek
This unfrequented place to find some cafe,,
Eafe to the body fome, none to the mind
From réflefs thoughts, that like a deadly fwarm
Of hornets arm'd, no fooner found alone,
But rush upon me thronging, and present
Times paft, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from heav'n foretold
Twice by an angel; who at laft in fight
Of both my parents all in flames afcended
From off the altar, where an off'ring burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His God-like prefence, and from fome great act
Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's
Why was my breeding order'd and prefcribd
As of a perfon feparate to God,
Defign'd for great exploits; if I muft die
Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my eyes put out,
Made of my enemies the fcorn and gaze;
To grind in brazen fetters under task,
With this heav'n-gifted ftrength? O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a beaft, debas'd
Lower than bondslave! promise was that I
Should Ifrael from Philiftian yoke deliver:
Afk for this great deliv'rer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with flaves,
Himfelf in bonds under Philiftian yoke.
Yet stay, let me not rafhly call in doubt
Divine prediction: what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but myself?
Who this high gift of ftrength committed to me,
In what part lodg'd, how eafily bereft me,
Under the feal of filence could not keep,
But weakly to a woman must reveal it,
O'ercome with importunity and tears.
O impotence of mind, in body ftrong!
But what is ftrength without a double fhare
Of wisdom, vaft, unwieldy, burthenfome,
Proudly fecure, yet liable to fall
By weakeft fubtleties, not made to rule,
But to fubferve where wisdom bears command.
God, when he gave me ftrength, to fhew withal
How flight the gift was, hung it in my hair.
But peace, I must not quarrel with the will
Of highest difpenfation, which herein
Haply had ends above my reach to know:
Suffices that to me ftrength is my bane,
And proves the fource of all my miferies;
So many, and fo huge, that each apart
Would ask a life to wail, but chief of all,
Olofs of fight, of thee I moft complain!
Blind among enemies, O worfe than chains,
Dungeon,, or beggary, decrepit age
Light the prime work of God to me is extinct,
And all her various objects of delight
Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd,
Inferior to the vileft now become
Of man or worm; the vileft here excel me,
They creep, yet fee, I dark in light expos'd
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong,
Within doors, or without, ftill as a fool,
In pow'r of others, never in my own;
Scarce half I feem to live, dead more than half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecov❜rably dark, total eclipse
Without all hope of day!
O first created beam, and thou great Word,
Let there be light, and light was over all;
Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?
The fun to me is dark
And filent as the moon
When the deferts the night
Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Since light fo neceffary is to life,
And almost life itself, if it be true
That light is in the foul,
She all in ev'ry part; why was the fight
To fuch a tender ball as th' eye confin'd?
So obvious and fo eafy to be quench'd,
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffus'd,
Thát fhe might look at will through ev'ry pore?
Then had I not been thus exil'd from light;
As in the land of darknefs yet in light,
To live a life half dead, a living death,
And bury'd; but O yet more miferable!
Myfelf, my fepulchre, a moving grave,
Bury'd, yet not exempt
By privilege of death and burial
From worlt of other evils, pains and wrongs,
But made hereby obnoxious more
To all the miferies of life,
Life in captivity
Among inhuman foes.
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