Page:Memoir and poems of Phillis Wheatley, a native African and a slave.djvu/71

But fled in vain; the conqueror swift pursued:
What scenes of slaughter, and what pens of blood!
There, Saul, thy thousands grasped the empurpled sand
In pangs of death, the conquest of thine hand;
And David, there were thy ten thousands laid:
Thus Israel's damsels musically played.
Near Gath and Ekron many a hero lay:
Breathed out their souls, and cursed the light of day:
Their fury, quenched by death, no longer burns,
And David with Goliath's head returns.
To Salem brought, but in his tent he placed
The load of armor which the giant graced.
His monarch saw him coming from the war,
And thus demanded of the son of Ner.
"Say, who is this amazing youth?" he cry'd,
When thus the leader of the host replied:
"As lives thy soul, I know not whence he sprung,
"So great in prowess, though in years so young."
"Inquire whose son is he," the sov'reign said,
"Before whose conquering arm Philistia fled."
Before the king behold tho stripling stand,
Goliath's head depending from his hand.
To him the king: "Say, of what martial line
"Art thou, young hero, and what sire was thine?"
He humbly thus: "The son of Jesse, I;
"I came the glories of the field to try.
"Small is my tribe, but valiant in the fight;
"Small is my city, but thy royal right"
"Then take the promised gifts," the monarch cry'd,
Conferring riches and the royal bride.
"Knit to my soul, forever thou remain
"With me, nor quit my regal roof again.

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