tian lords for Samson's redemption; who in the mean while is visited by other persons, and lastly by a public officer, to require his coming to the feast before the lords and people, to play or show his strength in their presence he at first refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial to come; at length, persuaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatenings to fetch him. The Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoah returns, full of joyful hope, to procure ere long his son's deliverance; in the midst of which discourse an Hebrew comes in haste, confusedly at first, and afterward more distinctly, relating the catastrophe, what Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the tragedy ends. SAMSON. A LITTLE Onward lend thy guiding hand Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends, To Dagon their sea idol, and forbid Of both my parents all in flames ascended His god-like presence, and from some great act Why was my breeding ordered and prescribed Designed for great exploits; if I must die With this Heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strength Put to the labour of a beast, debased Lower than bondslave! Promise was that I Had been fulfilled but through mine own default, By weakest subtleties, not made to rule, But to subserve where wisdom bears command! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, Annulled, which might in part my grief have eased ; Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me; Without all hope of day! O first created beam, and thou great Word, And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. She all in every part: why was the sight By privilege of death and burial From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes. But who are these? for with joint pace I hear CHORUS. This, this is he; softly awhile, Oh, change beyond report, thought, or belief! As one past hope, abandoned, And by himself given over; In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he, That heroic, that renowned, Irresistible Samson? whom unarmed No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast could withstand; Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid; Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, And weaponless himself; Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, But safest he who stood aloof, When insupportably his foot advanced, In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, Spurned them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his lion ramp, old warriors turned Their plated backs under his heel; Or grovelling soiled their crested helmets in the dust. The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of Palestine, In Ramath-lechi famous to this day. Then by main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore The gates of Azza, post, and massy bar, Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, Heaven. No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so; Thy bondage or lost sight, Prison within prison, Inseparably dark? Thou art become (oh, worst imprisonment !) (Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain) Imprisoned now indeed, In real darkness of the body dwells, Shut up from outward light To incorporate with gloomy night; Puts forth no visual beam. O mirror of our fickle state, Since man on earth unparalleled! The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen. For him I reckon not in high estate Whom long descent of birth Or the sphere of fortune raises; But thee whose strength, while virtue was her mate, Might have subdued the earth, Universally crowned with highest praises. SAMSON. I hear the sound of words, their sense the air Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. CHORUS. He speaks, let us draw nigh. Matchless in might, We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown, To visit or bewail thee; or, if better, Counsel or consolation we may bring, Salve to thy sores; apt words have power to swage The tumours of a troubled mind, And are as balm to festered wounds. |