Milton's IntroductionTo Samson Agonistes
¶Aristot. Poet. cap. 6. T p o ^ c ^ i a M'*")<"* r p A { « r t arovialat, &c.—Tragocdia est imitatio actionis scrix, & c , per miscricordiam c t m c turn pcrficicns talium affectuum lustra-
¶tiooem.
Of That Sort of Dramatic PoemCalled Tragedy
¶TRAGEDY, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other Poems; therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and such-like passions—that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. Nor is Nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion; for so, in Physic, things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humours. Hence philosophers and other gravest writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate their discourse. The Apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture, i Cor. xv. 33; and Paraeus, commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole Book, as a Tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a Chorus of Heavenly Harpings and Song between. Heretofore men in highest dignity have laboured not a little to be thought able to compose a tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious than before of his attaining to the tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but, unable to please his own judgment with what he had begun, left it unfinished. Seneca, the philosopher, is by some thought the author of those tragedies (at least the best of them) that go under that name. Gregory Nazianzen, a Father of the Church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy, which he entitled Christ Suffering. This is mentioned to vindicate Tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day, with other common Interludes; happening through the poet's error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons: which by all judicious hath been counted absurd, and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the people. And, though ancient Tragedy use no Prologue, yet using sometimes, in
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p. 413¶case of self-defence or explanation, that which Martial calls an Epistle, in behalf of this tragedy, coming forth after the ancient manner, much different from what among us passes for best, thus much beforehand may be epistlcd—that Chorus is here introduced after the Greek manner, not ancient only, but modern, and still in use among the Italians. In the modelling therefore of this poem, with good reason, the Ancients and Italians are rather followed, as of much more authority and fame. The measure of verse used in the Chorus is of all sorts, called by the Greeks Monostrophic, or rather Apolelymenon, without regard had to Strophe, Antistrophe, or Epode,—which were a kind of stanzas framed only for the music, then used with the Chorus that sung; not essential to the poem, and therefore not material; or, being divided into stanzas or pauses, they may be called Allccostropha. Division into act and scene, referring chiefly to the stage (to which this work never was intended), is here omitted.
¶It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond the fifth act. Of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the plot, whether intricate or explicit—which is nothing indeed but such ceconomy, or disposition of the fable, as may stand besi with verisimilitude and decorum—they only will best judge who are not unacquainted with /Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three tragic poets unequalled yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavour to write Tragedy. The circumscription of time, wherein the whole drama begins and ends, is, according to ancient rule and best example, within the space of twenty-four hours.
Samson Agonistes1667-1671
¶THE ARGUMENT.—SAMSON, made captive, blind, and now in the prison at Gaza, there to labour as in a common workhouse, on a festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, there to sit awhile and bemoan his condition. Where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, who seek to comfort him what they can; then by his old father, Manoa, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ransom; lastly, that this feast was proclaimed by the Philistines as a day of thanksgiving for their deliverance from the hands of Samson — which yet more troubles him. Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian lords for Samson's redemption: who , in the meanwhile, 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 shew his strength in their presence. Heat 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 threatening to fetch him. The Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope to procure ere long his son's deliverance; in the midst of which discourse an Ebrew comes in haste, confusedly at first, and afterwards more distinctly, relating the catastrophe—what Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the Tragedy ends.
The Persons
¶SAMSON. MANOA, the father of Samson. DALILA, his wife.HARAPHA of Gath. Public Officer. Messenger. Chorus of Darutes.The Scene, before the Prison in Gaza .f^AMSON. A little onward lend thy guiding hand
\ To these dark steps, a little further on;Jij For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade.There I am wont to sit, when any chanceRelieves me from my task of servile toil,Daily in the common prison else enjoined me,Where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely drawThe air, imprisoned also, close and damp,Unwholesome draught. But here I feel amends—The breath of Heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet,With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.This day a solemn feast the people holdTo Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbidLaborious works. Unwillingly this rest
p. 415¶Their superstition yields me; hence, with leaveRetiring from the popular noise, I seekThis unfrequented place to find some ease—Ease to the body some, none to the mindFrom restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarmOf hornets armed, no sooner found aloneBut rush upon me thronging, and presentTimes past, what once I was, and what am now.Oh, wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretoldTwice by an Angel, who at last, in sightOf both my parents, all in flames ascendedFrom off the altar where an offering burned,As in a fiery column chariotingHis godlike presence, and from some great actOr benefit revealed to Abraham's race?Why was my breeding ordered and prescribedAs of a person separate to God,Designed for great exploits, if I must dieBetrayed, captived, and both my eyes put out,Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze,To grind in brazen fetters under taskWith this heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strengPut to the labour of a beast, debasedLower than bond-slave! Promise was that IShould Israel from Philistian yoke deliver!Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find himEyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves,Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke.Yet stay; let me not rashly call in doubtDivine prediction. What if all foretoldHad been fulfilled but through mine own default?Whom have I to complain of but myself,Who this high gift of strength committed to me,In what part lodged, how easily bereft me,Under the seal of silence could not keep,But weakly to a woman must reveal it,O'ercome with importunity and tears?O impotence of mind in body strong!But what is strength without a double shareOf wisdom? Vast, unwieldy, burdensome,[416]Proudly secure, yet liable to fallBy weakest subtleties; not made to rule,But to subserve where wisdom bears command.God, when he gave me strength, to shew withalHow slight the gift was, hung it in my hair.But peace! I must not quarrel with the willOf highest dispensation, which hereinHaply had ends above my reach to know.Suffices that to me strength is my bane,And proves the source of all my miseries—So many, and so huge, that each apartWould ask a life to wail. But, chief of all,O loss of sight, of thee I most complain!Blind among enemies! O worse than chains,Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct,And all her various objects of delightAnnulled, which might in part my grief have eased.Inferior to the vilest now becomeOf man or worm, the vilest here excel me:They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposedTo daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,Within doors, or without, still as a fool,In power of others, never in my own—Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,Irrecoverably dark, total eclipseWithout 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 bereaved thy prime decree?The Sun to me is darkAnd silent as the Moon,When she deserts the night,Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.Since light so necessary is to life,And almost life itself, if it be trueThat light is in the soul,She all in every part, why was the sightTo such a tender ball as the eye confined,[417]So obvious and so easy to be quenched,And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused,That she might look at will through every pore?Then had I not been thus exiled from light,As in the land of darkness, yet in light,To live a life half dead, a living death,And buried; but, O yet more miserable!Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave;Buried, yet not exempt,By privilege of death and burial,From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs;But made hereby obnoxious moreTo all the miseries of life,Life in captivityAmong inhuman foes.But who are these? for with joint pace I hearThe tread of many feet steering this way;Perhaps my enemies, who come to stareAt my affliction, and perhaps to insult—Their daily practice to afflict me more.Chor. This, this is he; softly a while;Let us not break in upon him.O change beyond report, thought, or belief!See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused,With languished head unpropt,As one past hope, abandoned,And by himself given over,In slavish habit, ill-fitted weedsO'er-worn and soiled.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 embatded armies clad in iron,And, weaponless himself,Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgeryOf brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass,Chalybean-tempered steel, and frock of mail[418]Adamantean proof: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 AscaloniteFled from his lion ramp; old warriors turnedTheir plated backs under his heel,Or grovelling soiled their crested helmets in the dust.Then with what trivial weapon came to hand,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—No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so—Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up Heaven.Which shall I first bewail—Thy bondage or lost sight,Prison within prisonInseparably dark?Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!)The dungeon of thyself; thy soul(Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain)Imprisoned now indeed,In real darkness of the body dwells,Shut up from outward lightTo incorporate with gloomy night;For inward light, alas!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 estateWhom long descent of birth,Or the sphere of fortune, raises;But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate,[419]Might have subdued the Earth,Universally crowned with highest praises.Sams. I hear the sound of words; their sense the airDissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear.Chor. He speaks: let us draw nigh. Matchless inmight,The glory late of Israel, now the grief!We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown.From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale,To visit or bewail thee; or, if better,Counsel or consolation we may bring,Salve to thy sores: apt words have power to swageThe tumours of a troubled mind,And are as balm to festered wounds.Sams. Your coming, friends, revives me; for I learnNow of my own experience, not by talk,How counterfeit a coin they are who "friends"Bear in their superscription (of the mostI would be understood). In prosperous daysThey swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head,Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends,How many evils have enclosed me round;Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me,Blindness; for, had I sight, confused with shame,How could I once look up, or heave the head,Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwrackedMy Vessel trusted to me from above,Gloriously rigged, and for a word, a tear,Fool! have divulged the secret gift of GodTo a deceitful woman? Tell me, friends,Am I not sung and proverbed for a foolIn every street? Do they not say, "How wellAre come upon him his deserts"? Yet why?Immeasurable strength they might beholdIn me; of wisdom nothing more than mean.This with the other should at least have paired;These two, proportioned ill, drove me transverse.Chor. Tax not divine disposal. Wisest menHave erred, and by bad women been deceived;And shall again, pretend they ne'er so wise.[420]Deject not, then, so overmuch thyself,Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides.Yet, truth to say, I oft have heard men wonderWhy thou should'st wed Philistian women ratherThan of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair,At least of thy own nation, and as noble.Sams. The first I saw at Timna, and she pleasedMe, not my parents, that I sought to wedThe daughter of an Infidel. They knew notThat what I motioned was of God; I knewFrom intimate impulse, and therefore urgedThe marriage on, that, by occasion hence,I might begin Israel's deliverance—The work to which I was divinely called.She proving false, the next I took to wife(O that I never had! fond wish too late!)Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila,That specious monster, my accomplished snare.I thought it lawful from my former act,And the same end, still watching to oppressIsrael's oppressors. Of what now I sufferShe was not the prime cause, but I myself,Who, vanquished with a peal of words, (O weakness!)Gave up my fort of silence to a woman.Chor. In seeking just occasion to provokeThe Philistine, thy country's enemy,Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness;Yet Israel still serves with all his sons.Sams. That fault I take not on me, but transferOn Israel's governors and heads of tribes,Who, seeing those great acts which God had doneSingly by me against their conquerors,Acknowledged not, or not at all considered,Deliverance offered. I, on the other side,Used no ambition to commend my deeds;The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud thedoer.But they persisted deaf, and would not seemTo count them things worth notice, till at lengthTheir lords, the Philistines, with gathered powers,[421]Entered Judea, seeking me, who thenSafe to the rock of Etham was retired—Not flying, but forecasting in what placeTo set upon them, what advantaged best.Meanwhile the men of Judah, to preventThe harass of their land, beset me round;I willingly on some conditions cameInto their hands, and they as gladly yield meTo the Uncircumcised a welcome prey,Bound with two cords. But cords to me were threadsTouched with the flame: on their whole host I flewUnarmed, and with a trivial weapon felledTheir choicest youth; they only lived who fled.Had Judah that day joined, or one whole tribe,They had by this possessed the Towers of Gath,And lorded over them whom now they serve.But what more oft, in nations grown corrupt,And by their vices brought to servitude,Than to love bondage more than liberty—Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty—And to despise, or envy, or suspect,Whom God hath of his special favour raisedAs their deliverer? If he aught begin,How frequent to desert him and at lastTo heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds!Chor. Thy words to my remembrance bringHow Succoth and the fort of PenuelTheir great deliverer contemned,The matchless Gideon, in pursuitOf Madian, and her vanquished kings;And how ingrateful EphraimHad dealt with Jephtha, who by argument,Not worse than by his shield and spear,Defended Israel from the Ammonite,Had not his prowess quelled their prideIn that sore battle when so many diedWithout reprieve, adjudged to deathFor want of well pronouncing Shibboleth.Sams. Of such examples add me to the roll.Me easily indeed mine may neglect,[422]But God's proposed deliverance not so.Chor. Just are the ways of God,And justifiable to men,Unless there be who think not God at all.If any be, they walk obscure;For of such doctrine never was there school,But the heart of the Fool,And no man therein doctor but himself.Yet more there be who doubt his ways not just,As to his own edicts found contradicting;Then give the reins to wandering thought,Regardless of his glory's diminution,Till, by their own perplexities involved,They ravel more, still less resolved,But never find self-satisfying solution.As if they would confine the Interminable,And tie him to his own prescript,Who made our laws to bind us, not himself,And hath full right to exemptWhomso it pleases him by choiceFrom national obstriction, without taintOf sin, or legal debt;For with his own laws he can best dispense.He would not else, who never wanted means,Nor in respect of the enemy just cause,To set his people free,Have prompted this heroic Nazarite,Against his vow of strictest purity,To seek in marriage that fallacious bride,Unclean, unchaste.Down, Reason, then; at least, vain reasonings downThough Reason here averThat moral verdit quits her of unclean:Unchaste was subsequent; her stain, not his.But see! here comes thy reverend sire,With careful step, locks white as down,Old Manoa: adviseForthwith how thou ought'st to receive him.Sams. Ay me! another inward grief, awakedWith mention of that name, renews the assault.[423]Man. Brethren and men of Dan (for such ye seemThough in this uncouth place), if old respect,As' I suppose, towards your once gloried friend,My son, now captive, hither hath informedYour younger feet, while mine, cast back with age,Came lagging after, say if he be here.Chor. As signal now in low dejected stateAs erst in highest, behold him where he lies.Man. O miserable change! Is this the man,That invincible Samson, far renowned,The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strengthEquivalent to Angels' walked their streets,None offering fight; who, single combatant,Duelled their armies ranked in proud array,Himself an Army—now unequal matchTo save himself against a coward armedAt one spear's length ? O ever-failing trustIn mortal strength! and, oh, what not in manDeceivable and vain? Nay, what thing goodPrayed for, but often proves our woe, our bane?I prayed for children, and thought barrennessIn wedlock a reproach; I gained a son,And such a son as all men hailed me happy:Who would be now a father in my stead?Oh, wherefore did God grant me my request,And as a blessing with such pomp adorned?Why are his gifts desirable, to temptOur earnest prayers, then, given with solemn handAs graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind?For this did the Angel twice descend? for thisOrdained thy nurture holy, as of a plantSelect and sacred? glorious for a while,The miracle of men; then in an hourEnsnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound,Thy foes' derision, captive, poor and blind,Into a dungeon thrust, to work with slaves!Alas! methinks whom God hath chosen onceTo worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err,He should not so o'erwhelm, and as a thrallSubject him to so foul indignities,[424]Be it but for honour's sake of former deeds.Sams. Appoint not heavenly disposition, fatherNothing of all these evils hath befallen meBut justly; I myself have brought them on;Sole author I, sole cause. If aught seem vile,As vile hath been my folly, who have profanedThe mystery of God, given me under pledgeOf vow, and have betrayed it to a woman,A Canaanite, my faithless enemy.This well I knew, nor was at all surprised,But warned by oft experience. Did not sheOf Timna first betray me, and revealThe secret wrested from me in her highthOf nuptial love professed, carrying it straightTo them who had corrupted her, my spiesAnd rivals? In this other was there foundMore faith, who, also in her prime of love,Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold,Though offered only, by the scent conceivedHer spurious first-born, Treason against me?Thrice she assayed, with flattering prayers and sighs,And amorous reproaches, to win from meMy capital secret, in what part my strengthLay stored, in what part summed, that she mightknow;Thrice I deluded her, and turned to sportHer importunity, each time perceivingHow openly and with what impudenceShe purposed to betray me, and (which was worseThan undissembled hate) with what contemptShe sought to make me traitor to myself.Yet, the fourth time, when, mustering all her wiles,With blandished parleys, feminine assaults,Tongue-batteries, she surceased not day nor nightTo storm me, over-watched and wearied out,At times when men seek most repose and rest,I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart,Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved,Might easily have shook off all her snares;But foul effeminacy held me yoked[425]Her bond-slave. O indignity, O blotTo Honour and Religion! servile mindRewarded well with servile punishment!The base degree to which I now am fallen,These rags, this grinding, is not yet so baseAs was my former servitude, ignoble,Unmanly, ignominious, infamous,True slavery; and that blindness worse than this,That saw not how degenerately I served.Man. I cannot praise thy marriage-choices, son—Rather approved them not; but thou didst pleadDivine impulsion prompting how thou might'stFind some occasion to infest our foes.I state not that; this I am sure—our foesFound soon occasion thereby to make theeTheir captive, and their triumph; thou the soonerTemptation found'st, or over-potent charms,To violate the sacred trust of silenceDeposited within thee—which to have keptTacit was in thy power. True; and thou bear'stEnough, and more, the burden of that fault,Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying;That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains:This day the Philistines a popular feastHere celebrate in Gaza, and proclaimGreat pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud,To Dagon, as their god who hath deliveredThee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands—Them out of thine, who slew'st them many a slainSo Dagon shall be magnified, and God,Besides whom is no god, compared with idols,Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scornBy the idolatrous rout amidst their wine;Which to have come to pass by means of thee,Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest,Of all reproach the most with shame that everCould have befallen thee and thy father's house.Sams. Father, I do acknowledge and confessThat I this honour, I this pomp, have broughtTo Dagon, and advanced his praises high[426]Among the Heathen round—to God have broughtDishonour, obloquy, and oped the mouthsOf idolists and atheists; have brought scandalTo Israel, diffidence of God, and doubtIn feeble hearts, propense enough beforeTo waver, or fall off and join with idols:Which is my chief affliction, shame and sorrow,The anguish of my soul, that suffers notMine eye to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest.This only hope relieves me, that the strifeWith me hath end. All the contest is now'Twixt God and Dagon. Dagon hath presumed,Me overthrown, to enter lists with God,His deity comparing and preferringBefore the God of Abraham. He, be sure,Will not connive, or linger, thus provoked,But will arise, and his great name assert.Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receiveSuch a discomfit as shall quite despoil himOf all these boasted trophies won on me,And with confusion blank his Worshipers.Man. With cause this hope relieves thee; and thesewordsI as a prophecy receive; for God(Nothing more certain) will not long deferTo vindicate the glory of his nameAgainst all competition, nor will longEndure it doubtful whether God be LordOr Dagon. But for thee what shall be done?Thou must not in the meanwhile, here forgot,Lie in this miserable loathsome plightNeglected. I already have made wayTo some Philistian lords, with whom to treatAbout thy ransom. Well they may by thisHave satisfied their utmost of revenge,By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflictedOn thee, who now no more canst do them harm.Sams. Spare that proposal, father; spare the troubleOf that solicitation. Let me here,As I deserve, pay on my punishment,[427]And expiate, if possible, my crime,Shameful garrulity. To have revealedSecrets of men, the secrets of a friend,How heinous had the fact been, how deservingContempt and scorn of all—to be excludedAll friendship, and avoided as a blab,The mark of fool set on his front!But I God's counsel have not kept, his holy secretPresumptuously have published, impiously,Weakly at least and shamefully—a sinThat Gentiles in their parables condemnTo their Abyss and horrid pains confined.Man. Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite;But act not in thy own affliction, son.Repent the sin; but, if the punishmentThou canst avoid, self-preservation bids;Or the execution leave to high disposal,And let another hand, not thine, exactThy penal forfeit from thyself. PerhapsGod will relent, and quit thee all his debt;Who ever more approves and more accepts(Best pleased with humble and filial submission)Him who, imploring mercy, sues for life,Than who, self-rigorous, chooses death as due;Which argues over-just, and self-displeasedFor self-offence more than for God offended.Reject not, then, what offered means who knowsBut God hath set before us to return theeHome to thy country and his sacred house.Where thou may'st bring thy offerings, to avertHis further ire, with prayers and vows renewed.Sams. His pardon I implore; but, as for life,To what end should I seek it? When in strengthAll mortals I excelled, and great in hopes,With youthful courage, and magnanimous thoughtsOf birth from Heaven foretold and high exploits,Full of divine instinct, after some proofOf acts indeed heroic, far beyondThe sons of Anak, famous now and blazed,Fearless of danger, like a petty god[428]I walked about, admired of all, and dreadedOn hostile ground, none daring my affront—Then, swollen with pride, into the snare I fellOf fair fallacious looks, venereal trains,Softened with pleasure and voluptuous lifeAt length to lay my head and hallowed pledgeOf all my strength in the lascivious lapOf a deceitful Concubine, who shore me,Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece,Then turned me out ridiculous, despoiled,Shaven, and disarmed among my enemies.Chor. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks,Which many a famous warrior overturns,Thou could'st repress; nor did the dancing ruby,Sparkling out-poured, the flavour or the smell,Or taste, that cheers the heart of gods and men,Allure thee from the cool crystallin stream.Sams. Wherever fountain or fresh current flowedAgainst the eastern ray, translucent, pureWith touch aethereal of Heaven's fiery rod,I drank, from the clear milky juice allayingThirst, and refreshed; nor envied them the grapeWhose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes.Chor. O madness! to think use of strongest winesAnd strongest drinks our chief support of health,When God with these forbidden made choice to rearHis mighty Champion, strong above compare,Whose drink was only from the liquid brook!Sams. But what availed this temperance, not completeAgainst another object more enticing?Wtiat boots it at one gate to make defence,And at another to let in the foe,Effeminately vanquished? by which means,Now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonoured, quelled,To what can I be useful ? wherein serveMy nation, and the work from Heaven imposed ?But to sit idle on the household hearth,A burdenous drone; to visitants a gaze,Or pitied object; these redundant locks,Robustious to no purpose, clustering down,[429]Vain monument of strength; till length of yearsAnd sedentary numbness craze my limbsTo a contemptible old age obscure.Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread,Till vermin, or the draff of servile food,Consume me, and oft-invocated deathHasten the welcome end of all my pains.Man. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with thatgiftWhich was expressly given thee to annoy them?Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle,Inglorious, unimployed, with age outworn.But God, who caused a fountain at thy prayerFrom the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allayAfter the brunt of battel, can as easyCause light again within thy eyes to spring,Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast.And I persuade me so. Why else this strengthMiraculous yet remaining in those locks?His might continues in thee not for naught,Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus.Sams. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend—That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light,Nor the other light of life continue long,But yield to double darkness nigh at hand;So much I feel my genial spirits droop,My hopes all flat: Nature within me seemsIn all her functions weary of herself;My race of glory run, and race of shame,And I shall shortly be with them that rest.Man. Believe not these suggestions, which proceedFrom anguish of the mind, and humours blackThat mingle with thy fancy. I, however,Must not omit a father's timely careTo prosecute the means of thy deliveranceBy ransom or how else: meanwhile be calm,And healing words from these thy friends admit.Sams. Oh, that torment should not be confinedTo the body's wounds and sores,With maladies innumerable[430]In heart, head, breast, and reins,But must secret passage findTo the inmost mind,There exercise all his fierce accidents,And on her purest spirits prey,As on entrails, joints, and limbs,With answerable pains, but more intense,Though void of corporal sense!My griefs not only pain meAs a lingering disease,But, finding no redress, ferment and rage;Nor less than wounds immedicableRankle, and fester, and gangrene,To black mortification.Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with deadly stings,Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts,Exasperate, exulcerate, and raiseDire inflammation, which no cooling herbOr medicinal liquor can assuage,Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp.Sleep hath forsook and given me o'erTo death's benumbing opium as my only cure;Thence faintings, swoonings of despair,And sense of Heaven's desertion.I was his nursling once and choice delight,His destined from the womb,Promised by heavenly message twice descending.Under his special eyeAbstemious I grew up and thrived amain;He led me on to mightiest deeds,Above the nerve of mortal arm,Against the Uncircumcised, our enemies:But now hath cast me off as never known,And to those cruel enemies,Whom I by his appointment had provoked,Left me all helpless, with the irreparable lossOf sight, reserved alive to be repeatedThe subject of their cruelty or scorn.Nor am I in the list of them that hope;Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless.[431]This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard,No long petition—speedy death,The close of all my miseries and the balm.Chor. Many are the sayings of the wise,In ancient and in modern books enrolled,Extolling patience as the truest fortitude,And to the bearing well of all calamities,All chances incident to man's frail life,Consolatories writWith studied argument, and much persuasion sought,Lenient of grief and anxious thought.But with the afflicted in his pangs their soundLittle prevails, or rather seems a tuneHarsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint,Unless he feel withinSome source of consolation from above,Secret refreshings that repair his strengthAnd fainting spirits uphold.God of our fathers! what is Man,That thou towards him with hand so various—Or might I say contrarious?—Temper'st thy providence through his short course:Not evenly, as thou rul'stThe angelic orders, and inferior creatures mute,Irrational and brute?Nor do I name of men the common rout,That, wandering loose about,Grow up and perish as the summer fly,Heads without name, no more remembered;But such as thou hast solemnly elected,With gifts and graces eminently adornedVTo some great work, thy glory,And people's safety, which in part they effect.Yet toward these, thus dignified, thou oft,Amidst their highth of noon,Changest thy countenance and thy hand, with no regardOf highest favours pastFrom thee on them, or them to thee of service.Nor only dost degrade them, or remitTo life obscured, which were a fair dismission,[432]But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt themhigh-Unseemly falls in human eye,Too grievous for the trespass or omission;Oft leav'st them to the hostile swordOf heathen and profane, their carcassesTo dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived,Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times,And condemnation of the ungrateful multitude.If these they scape, perhaps in povertyWith sickness and disease thou bow'st them down,Painful diseases and deformed,In crude old age;Though not disordinate, yet causeless sufferingThe punishment of dissolute days. In fine,Just or unjust alike seem miserable,For oft alike both come to evil end.So deal not with this once thy glorious Champion,The image of thy strength, and mighty minister.What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already!Behold him in this state calamitous, and turnHis labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end.But who is this? what thing of sea or land—Female of sex it seems—That, so bedecked, ornate, and gay,Comes this way sailing,Like a stately shipOf Tarsus, bound for the islesOf Javan or Gadire,With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,Sails filled, and streamers waving,Courted by all the winds that hold them play;An amber scent of odorous perfumeHer harbinger, a damsel train behind?Some rich Philistian matron she may seem;And now, at nearer view, no other certainThan Dalila thy wife.Sams. My wife! my traitress! let her not come near me.Chor. Yet on she moves; now stands and eyes theefixed,[433]About to have spoke; but now, with head declined,Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps,And words addressed seem into tears dissolved,Wetting the borders of her silken veil.But now again she makes address to speak.Dal. With doubtful feet and wavering resolutionI came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson;Which to have merited, without excuse,I cannot but acknowledge. Yet, if tearsMay expiate (though the fact more evil drewIn the perverse event than I foresaw),My penance hath not slackened, though my pardonNo way assured. But conjugal affection,Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt,Hath led me on, desirous to beholdOnce more thy face, and know of thy estate,If aught in my ability may serveTo lighten what thou suffer'st, and appeaseThy mind with what amends is in my power—Though late, yet in some part to recompenseMy rash but more unfortunate misdeed.Sams. Out, out, Hyaena! These are thy wonted artsAnd arts of every woman false like thee—To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray;Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech,And reconcilement move with feigned remorse,Confess, and promise wonders in her change—Not truly penitent, but chief to tryHer husband, how far urged his patience bears,His virtue or weakness which way to assail:Then, with more cautious and instructed skill,Again transgresses, and again submits;That wisest and best men, full oft beguiled,With goodness principled not to rejectThe penitent, but ever to forgive,Are drawn to wear out miserable days,Entangled with a poisonous bosom-snake,If not by quick destruction soon cut off,As I by thee, to ages an example.Dal. Yet hear me, Samson; not that I endeavour[434]To lessen or extenuate my offence,But that, on the other side, if it be weighedBy itself, with aggravations not surcharged,Or else with just allowance counterpoised,I may, if possible, thy pardon findThe easier towards me, or thy hatred less.First granting, as I do, it was a weaknessIn me, but incident to all our sex,Curiosity, inquisitive, importune'Of secrets, then with like infirmityTo publish them—both common female faults—Was it not weakness also to make knownFor importunity, that is for naught,Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety?To what I did thou shew'dst me first the way.But I to enemies revealed, and should not!Nor should'st thou have trusted that to woman's frailty:Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel.Let weakness, then, with weakness come to parle,So near related, or the same of kind;Thine forgive mine, that men may censure thineThe gentler, if severely thou exact notMore strength from me than in thyself was found.And what if love, which thou interpret'st hate,The jealousy of love, powerful of swayIn human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee,Caused what I did? I saw thee mutableOf fancy; feared lest one day thou would'st leave meAs her at Timna; sought by all means, therefore,How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest:No better way I saw than by importuningTo learn thy secrets, get into my powerThy key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say,"Why, then, revealed?" I was assured by thoseWho tempted me that nothing was designedAgainst thee but safe custody and hold.That made for me; I knew that libertyWould draw thee forth to perilous enterprises,While I at home sat full of cares and fears,Wailing thy absence in my widowed bed;[435]Here I should still enjoy thee, day and night,Mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines',Whole to myself, unhazarded abroad,Fearless at home of partners in my love.These reasons in Love's law have passed for good,Though fond and reasonless to some perhaps;And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much woe,Yet always pity or pardon hath obtained.Be not unlike all others, not a stereAs thou art strong, inflexible as steel.If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed,In uncompassionate anger do not so.Sams. How cunningly the Sorceress displaysHer own transgressions, to upbraid me minelThat malice, not repentance, brought thee hitherBy this appears. I gave, thou say'st, the example,I led the way—bitter reproach, but true;I to myself was false ere thou to me.Such pardon, therefore, as I give my follyTake to thy wicked deed; which when thou seestImpartial, self-severe, inexorable,Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much ratherConfess it feigned. Weakness is thy excuse,And I believe it—weakness to resistPhilistian gold. If weakness may excuse,What murtherer, what traitor, parricide,Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it?All wickedness is weakness; that plea, therefore,With God or Man will gain thee no remission.But love constrained thee! Call it furious rageTo satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love;My love how could'st thou hope, who took'st the wayTo raise in me inexpiable hate,Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betrayed?In vain thou striv'st to cover shame with shame,Or by evasions thy crime uncover'st more.Dal. Since thou determin'st weakness for no pleaIn man or woman, though to thy own condemning,Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides,What sieges girt me round, ere I consented;[436]Which might have awed the best-resolved of men,The constantest, to have yielded without blame.It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st,That wrought with me. Thou know'st the MagistratesAnd Princes of my country came in person,Solicited, commanded, threatened, urged,Adjured by all the bonds of civil dutyAnd of religion—pressed how just it was,How honourable, how glorious, to entrapA common enemy, who had destroyedSuch numbers of our nation: and the PriestWas not behind, but ever at my ear,Preaching how meritorious with the godsIt would be to ensnare an irreligiousDishonourer of Dagon. What had ITo oppose against such powerful arguments?Only my love of thee held long debate,And combated in silence all these reasonsWith hard contest. At length, that grounded maxim,So rife and celebrated in the mouthsOf wisest men, that to the public goodPrivate respects must yield, with grave authorityTook full possession of me, and prevailed;Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining.Sams. I thought where all thy circling wiles wouldend—In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy!But, had thy love, still odiously pretended,Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught theeFar other reasonings, brought forth other deeds.I, before all the daughters of my tribeAnd of my nation, chose thee from amongMy enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st;Too well; unbosomed all my secrets to thee,Not out of levity, but overpoweredBy thy request, who could deny thee nothing;Yet now am judged an enemy. Why, then,Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband—Then, as since then, thy country's foe professed?Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave[437]Parents and country; nor was I their subject,Nor under their protection, but my own;Thou mine, not theirs. If aught against my lifeThy country sought of thee, it sought unjusdy,Against the law of nature, law of nations;No more thy country, but an impious crewOf men conspiring to uphold their stateBy worse than hostile deeds, violating the endsFor which our country is a name so dear;Not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee;To please thy gods thou didst it! Gods unableTo acquit themselves and prosecute their foesBut by ungodly deeds, the contradictionOf their own deity, Gods cannot be—Less therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared.These false pretexts and varnished colours failing,Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear!Dal. In argument with men a woman everGoes by the worse, whatever be her cause.Sams. For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath!Witness when I was worried with thy peals.Dal. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistakenIn what I thought would have succeeded best.Let me obtain forgiveness, of thee Samson;Afford me place to shew what recompenseTowards thee I intend for what I have misdone,Misguided. Only what remains past cureBear not too sensibly, nor still insistTo afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost,Life yet hath many solaces, enjoyedWhere other senses want not their delights—At home, in leisure and domestic ease,Exempt from many a care and chance to whichEyesight exposes, daily, men abroad.I to the Lords will intercede, not doubtingTheir favourable ear, that I may fetch theeFrom forth this loathsome prison-house, to abideWith me, where my redoubled love and care,With nursing diligence, to me glad office,May ever tend about thee to old age,[438]With all things grateful cheered, and so suppliedThat what by me thou hast lost thou least shalt miss.Sams. No, no; of my condition take no care;It fits not; thou and I long since are twain;Nor think me so unwary or accursedTo bring my feet again into the snareWhere once I have been caught. I know thy trains,Though dearly to my cost, thy gins, and toils.Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charms,No more on me have power; their force is nulled;So much of adder's wisdom I have learned,To fence my ear against thy sorceries.If in my flower of youth and strength, when all menLoved, honoured, feared me, thou alone could hate me,Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forgo me,How would'st thou use me now, blind, and therebyDeceivable, in most things as a childHelpless, thence easily contemned and scorned,And last neglected! How would'st thou insult,When I must live uxorious to thy willIn perfet thraldom! how again betray me,Bearing my words and doings to the lordsTo gloss upon, and, censuring, frown or smile!This gaol I count the house of LibertyTo thine, whose doors my feet shall never enter.Dal. Let me approach at least, and touch thy hand.Sams. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wakeMy sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint.At distance I forgive thee; go with that;Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious worksIt hath brought forth to make thee memorableAmong illustrious women, faithful wives;Cherish thy hastened widowhood with the goldOf matrimonial treason: so farewell.Dal. I see thou art implacable, more deafTo prayers than winds and seas. Yet winds to yeasAre reconciled at length, and sea to shore:Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages,Eternal tempest never to be calmed.Why do I humble thus myself, and, suing[439]For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate,Bid go with evil omen, and the brandOf infamy upon my name denounced?To mix with thy concernments I desistHenceforth, nor too much disapprove my own.Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed,And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds;On both his wings, one black, the other white,Bears greatest names in his wild aerie flight.My name, perhaps, among the CircumcisedIn Dan, in Judah, and the bordering Tribes,To all posterity may stand defamed,With malediction mentioned, and the blotOf falsehood most unconjugal traduced.But in my country, where I most desire,In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath,I shall be named among the famousestOf women, sung at solemn festivals,Living and dead recorded, who, to saveHer country from a fierce destroyer, choseAbove the faith of wedlock bands; my tombWith odours visited and annual flowers;Not less renowned than in Mount EphraimJael, who, with inhospitable guile,Smote Sisera sleeping, through the temples nailed.Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoyThe public marks of honour and rewardConferred upon me for the pietyWhich to my country I was judged to have shewn.At this whoever envies or repines,I leave him his lot, and like my own.Chor. She's gone—a manifest Serpent by her stingDiscovered in the end, till now concealed.Sams. So let her go. God sent her to debase me,And aggravate my folly, who committedTo such a viper his most sacred trustOf secrecy, my safety, and my life.Chor. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strangepower,After offence returning, to regain[440]Love once possessed, nor can be easilyRepulsed, without much inward passion felt,And secret sting of amorous remorse.Sams. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end;Not wedlock-treachery endangering life.Chor. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit,Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit,That woman's love can win, or long inherit;But what it is, hard is to say,Harder to hit,Which way soever men refer it,(Much like thy riddle, Samson) in one dayOr seven though one should musing sit.If any of these, or all, the Timnian brideHad not so soon preferredThy Paranymph, worthless to thee compared,Successor in thy bed,Nor both so loosely disalliedTheir nuptials, nor this last so treacherouslyHad shorn the fatal harvest of thy head.Is it for that such outward ornamentWas lavished on their sex, that inward giftsWere left for haste unfinished, judgment scant,Capacity not raised to apprehendOr value what is best,In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong?Or was too much of self-love mixed,Of constancy no root infixed,That either they love nothing, or not long?Whate'er it be, to wisest men and best,Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil,Soft, modest, meek, demure,Once joined, the contrary she proves—a thornIntestine, far within defensive armsA cleaving mischief, in his way to virtueAdverse and turbulent; or by her charmsDraws him awry, enslavedWith dotage, and his sense depravedTo folly and shameful deeds, which ruin ends.What pilot so expert but needs must wreck.[441]Embarked with such a steers-mate at the helm?Favoured of Heaven who findsOne virtuous, rarely found,That in domestic good combines!Happy that house! his way to peace is smooth:But virtue which breaks through all opposition,And all temptation can remove,Most shines and most is acceptable above.Therefore God's universal lawGave to the man despotic powerOver his female in due awe,Nor from that right to part an hour,Smile she or lour:So shall he least confusion drawOn his whole life, not swayedBy female usurpation, nor dismayed.But had we best retire? I see a storm.Sams. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain.Chor. But this another kind of tempest brings.Sams. Be less abstruse; my riddling days are past.Chor. Look now for no inchanting voice, nor fearThe bait of honeyed words; a rougher tongueDraws hitherward; I know him by his stride,The giant Harapha of Gath, his lookHaughty, as is his pile high-built and proud.Comes he in peace? What wind hath blown him hitherI less conjecture than when first I sawThe sumptuous Dalila floating this way:His habit carries peace, his brow defiance.Sams. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes.Chor. His fraught we soon shall know: he now arrives.Har. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance,As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been,Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath;Men call me Harapha, of stock renownedAs Og, or Anak, and the Emims oldThat Kiriathaim held. Thou know'st me now,If thou at all art known. Much I have heardOf thy prodigious might and feats performed,Incredible to me, in this displeased,[442]That I was never present on the placeOf those encounters, where we might have triedEach other's force in camp or listed field;And now am come to see of whom such noiseHath walked about, and each limb to survey,If thy appearance answer loud report.Sams. The way to know were not to see, but taste.Har. Dost thou already single me? I thoughtGyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortuneHad brought me to the field where thou art famedTo have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw!I should have forced thee soon with other arms,Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown;So had the glory of prowess been recoveredTo Palestine, won by a PhilistineFrom the unforeskinned race, of whom thou bear'stThe highest name for valiant acts. That honour,Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee,I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out.Sams. Boast not of what thou would'st have done,but doWhat then thou would'st; thou seest it in thy hand.Har. To combat with a blind man I disdain,And thou hast need much washing to be touched.Sams. Such usage as your honourable LordsAfford me, assassinated and betrayed;Who durst not with their whole united powersIn fight withstand me single and unarmed,Nor in the house with chamber-ambushesClose-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping,Till they had hired a woman with their gold,Breaking her marriage-faith, to circumvent me.Therefore, without feign'd shifts, let be assignedSome narrow place enclosed, where sight may give thee,Or rather flight, no great advantage on me;Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmetAnd brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon,Vant-brass and greaves and gaundet; add thy spear,A weaver's beam, and seven-times-folded shield:I only with an oaken staff will meet thee,[443]And raise such outcries on thy clattered iron,Which long shall not withhold me from thy head,That in a little time, while breath remains thee,Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boastAgain in safety what thou would'st have doneTo Samson, but shalt never see Gath more.Har. Thou durst not thus disparage glorious armsWhich greatest heroes have in battel worn,Their ornament and safety, had not spellsAnd black inchantments, some magician's art,Armed thee or charmed thee strong, which thou fromHeavenFeign'dst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair,Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairsWere bristles ranged like those that ridge the backOf chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines.Sams. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts;My trust is in the Living God, who gave me,At my nativity, this strength, diffusedNo less through all my sinews, joints, and bones,Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn,The pledge of my unviolated vow.For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god,Go to his temple, invocate his aidWith solemnest devotion, spread before himHow highly it concerns his glory nowTo frustrate and dissolve these magic spells,Which I to be the power of Israel's GodAvow, and challenge Dagon to the test,Offering to combat thee, his Champion bold,With the utmost of his godhead seconded:Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrowSoon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine.Har. Presume not on thy God. Whate'er he be,Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut offQuite from his people, and delivered upInto thy enemies' hand; permitted themTo put out both thine eyes, and fettered send theeInto the common prison, there to grindAmong the slaves and asses, thy comrades,[444]As good for nothing else, no better serviceWith those thy boisterous locks; no worthy matchFor valour to assail, nor by the swordOf noble warrior, so to stain his honour,But by the barber's razor best subdued.Sams. All these indignities, for such they areFrom thine, these evils I deserve and more,Acknowledge them from God inflicted on meJustly, yet despair not of his final pardon,Whose ear is ever open, and his eyeGracious to re-admit the suppliant;In confidence whereof I once againDefy thee to the trial of mortal fight,By combat to decide whose god is God,Thine, or whom I with Israel's sons adore.Har. Fair honour that thou dost thy God, in trustingHe will accept thee to defend his cause,A murtherer, a revolter, and a robber!Sams. Tongue-doughty giant, how dost thou proveme these?Har. Is not thy nation subject to our Lords?Their magistrates confessed it when they took theeAs a league-breaker, and delivered boundInto our hands; for hadst thou not committedNotorious murder on those thirty menAt Ascalon, who never did thee harm,Then, like a robber, stripp'dst them of their robes?The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league,Went up with armed powers thee only seeking,To others did no violence nor spoil.Sams. Among the daughters of the PhilistinesI chose a wife, which argued me no foe,And in your city held my nuptial feast;But your ill-meaning politician lords,Under pretence of bridal friends and guests,Appointed to await me thirty spies,Who, threatening cruel death, constrained the brideTo wring from me, and tell to them, my secret,That solved the riddle which I had proposed.When I perceived all set on enmity,[445]As on my enemies, wherever chanced,I used hostility, and took their spoil,To pay my underminers in their coin.My nation was subjected to your lords!It was the force of conquest; force with forceIs well ejected when the conquered can.But I, a private person, whom my countryAs a league-breaker gave up bound, presumedSingle rebellion, and did hostile acts!I was no private, but a person raised,With strength sufficient, and command from Heaven,To free my country. If their servile mindsMe, their Deliverer sent, would not receive,But to their masters gave me up for nought,The unworthier they; whence to this day they serve.I was to do my part from Heaven assigned,And had performed it if my known offenceHad not disabled me, not all your force.These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant,Though by his blindness maimed for high attempts,Who now defies thee thrice to single fight,As a petty enterprise of small enforce.Har. With thee, a man condemned, a slave enrolled,Due by the law to capital punishment?To fight with thee no man of arms will deign.Sams. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to surveyme,To descant on my strength, and give thy verdict?Come nearer; part not hence so slight informed;But take good heed my hand survey not thee.Har. O Baal-zebub! can my ears unusedHear these dishonours, and not render death?Sams. No man withholds thee; nothing from thyhandFear I incurable; bring up thy van;My heels are fettered, but my fist is free.Har. This insolence other kind of answer fits.Sams. Go, baffled coward, lest I run upon thee,Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast,And with one buffet lay thy structure low,[446]Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down,To the hazard of thy brains and shattered sides.Har. By Astaroth, ere long thou shalt lamentThese braveries, in irons loaden on thee.Chor. His Giantship is gone somewhat crest-fallen,Stalking with less unconscionable strides,And lower looks, but in a sultry chafe.Sams. I dread him not, nor all his giant brood,Though fame divulge him father of five sons,All of gigantic size, Goliah chief.Chor. He will directly to the lords, I fear,And with malicious counsel stir them upSome way or other yet further to afflict thee.Sams. He must allege some cause, and offered fightWill not dare mention, lest a question riseWhether he durst accept the offer or not;And that he durst not plain enough appeared.Much more affliction than already feltThey cannot well impose, nor I sustain,If they intend advantage of my labours,The work of many hands, which earns my keeping,With no small profit daily to my owners.But come what will; my deadliest foe will proveMy speediest friend, by death to rid me hence;The worst that he can give to me the best.Yet so it may fall out, because their endIs hate, not help to me, it may with mineDraw their own ruin who attempt the deed.Chor. O, how comely it is, and how revivingTo the spirits of just men long oppressed,When God into the hands of their delivererPuts invincible might,To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressor,The brute and boisterous force of violent men,Hardy and industrious to supportTyrannic power, but raging to pursueThe righteous, and all such as honour truth!He all their ammunitionAnd feats of war defeats,With plain heroic magnitude of mind[447]And celestial vigour armed;Their armouries and magazins contemns,Renders them useless, whileWith winged expeditionSwift as the lightning glance he executesHis errand on the wicked, who, surprised,Lose their defence, distracted and amazed.But patience is more oft the exerciseOf saints, the trial of their fortitude,Making them each his own deliverer,And victor over allThat tyranny or fortune can inflict.Either of these is in thy lot,Samson, with might enduedAbove the sons of men; but sight bereavedMay chance to number thee with thoseWhom Patience finally must crown.This Idol's day hath been to thee no day of rest,Labouring thy mindMore than the working day thy hands.And yet, perhaps, more trouble is behind;For I descry this waySome other tending; in his handA sceptre or quaint staff he bears,Comes on amain, speed in his look.By his habit I discern him nowA public officer, and now at hand.His message will be short and voluble.Off. Ebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek.Chor. His manacles remark him; there he sits.Off. Samson, to thee our Lords thus bid me say:This day to Dagon is a solemn feast,With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games;Thy strength they know surpassing human rate,And now some public proof thereof requireTo honour this great feast, and great assembly.Rise, therefore, with all speed, and come along,Where I will see thee heartened and fresh clad,To appear as fits before the illustrious Lords. them]Sams. Thou know'st I am an Ebrew; therefore tell[448]Our law forbids at their religious ritesMy presence; for that cause I cannot come.Off. This answer, be assured, will not content them.Sams. Have they not sword-players, and every sortOf gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners,Jugglers and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics,But they must pick me out, with shackles tired,And over-laboured at their public mill,To make them sport with blind activity?Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels,On my refusal, to distress me more,Or make a game of my calamities?Return the way thou cam'st; I will not come.Off. Regard thyself; this will offend them highly.Sams. Myself! my conscience, and internal peace.Can they think me so broken, so debasedWith corporal servitude, that my mind everWill condescend to such absurd commands?Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester,And, in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief,To shew them feats, and play before their god—The worst of all indignities, yet on meJoined with extreme contempt! I will not come.Off. My message was imposed on me with speed,Brooks no delay: is this thy resolution?Sams. So take it with what speed thy message needs.Off. I am sorry what this stoutness will produce.Sams. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed.Chor. Consider, Samson; matters now are strainedUp to the highth, whether to hold or break.He's gone and who knows how he may reportThy words by adding fuel to the flame?Expect another message, more imperious,More lordly thundering than thou well wilt bear.Sams. Shall I abuse this consecrated giftOf strength, again returning with my hairAfter my great transgression—so requiteFavour renewed, and add a greater sinBy prostituting holy things to idols,A Nazarite, in place abominable,[449]Vaunting my strength in honour to their Dagon?Besides how vile, contemptible, ridiculous,What act more execrably unclean, profane?Chor. Yet with this strength thou serv'st thePhilistines,Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean.Sams. Not in their idol-worship, but by labourHonest and lawful to deserve my foodOf those who have me in their civil power.Chor. Where the heart joins not, outward actsdefile not.Sams. Where outward force constrains, the sentenceholds:But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon,Not dragging? The Philistian Lords command:Commands are no constraints. If I obey them,I do it freely, venturing to displeaseGod for the fear of Man, and Man prefer,Set God behind; which, in his jealousy,Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness.Yet that he may dispense with me, or thee,Present in temples at adolatrous ritesFor some important cause, thou need'st not doubt.Chor. How thou wilt here come off surmounts myreach.Sams. Be of good courage; I begin to feelSome rousing motions in me, which disposeTo something extraordinary in my thoughts.I with this messenger will go along—Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonourOur Law, or stain my vow of Nazarite.If there be aught of presage in the mind,This day will be remarkable in my lifeBy some great act, or of my days the last.Chor. In time thou hast resolved: the man returns.Off. Samson, this second message from our LordsTo thee I am bid say: Art thou our slave,Our captive, at the public mill our drudge,And dar'st thou, at our sending and command,Dispute thy coming? Come without delay;[450]Or we shall find such engines to assailAnd hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force,Though thou wert firmlier fastened than a rock.Sams. I could be well content to try their art,Which to no few of them would prove pernicious;Yet, knowing their advantages too many,Because they shall not trail me through their streetsLike a wild beast, I am content to go.Masters' commands come with a power resistlessTo such as owe them absolute subjection;And for a life who will not change his purpose?(So mutable are all the ways of men!)Yet this be sure, in nothing to complyScandalous or forbidden in our Law.Off. I praise thy resolution. Doff these links:By this compliance thou wilt win the LordsTo favour, and perhaps to set thee free.Sams. Brethren, farewell. Your company alongI will not wish, lest it perhaps offend themTo see me girt with friends; and how the sightOf me, as of a common enemy,So dreaded once, may now exasperate themI know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine;And the well-feasted priest then soonest firedWith zeal, if aught religion seem concerned;No less the people, on their holy days,Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable.Happen what may, of me expect to hearNothing dishonourable, impure, unworthyOur God, our Law, my nation, or myself;The last of me or no I cannot warrant.Chor. Go, and the Holy OneOf Israel be thy guideTo what may serve his glory best, and spread his nameGreat among the Heathen round;Send thee the Angel of thy birth, to standFast by thy side, who from thy father's fieldRode up in flames after his message toldOf thy conception, and be now a shieldOf fire; that Spirit that first rushed on thee[451]In the camp of Dan,Be efficacious in thee now at need!For never was from Heaven impartedMeasure of strength so great to mortal seed,As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen.But wherefore comes old Manoa in such hasteWith youthful steps? Much livelier than erewhileHe seems: supposing here to find his son,Or of him bringing to us some glad news?Man. Peace with you, brethren! My inducementhitherWas not at present here to find my son,By order of the Lords new parted henceTo come and play before them at their feast.I heard all as I came; the city rings,And numbers thither flock: I had no will,Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly.But that which moved my coming now was chieflyTo give ye part with me what hope I haveWith good success to work his liberty.Chor. That hope would much rejoice us to partakeWith thee. Say, reverend sire; we thirst to hear.Man. I have attempted, one by one, the Lords,Either at home, or through the high street passing,With supplication prone and father's tears,To accept of ransom for my son, their prisoner.Some much averse I found, and wondrous harsh,Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite;That part most reverenced Dagon and his priests:Others more moderate seeming, but their aimPrivate reward, for which both God and StateThey easily would set to sale: a thirdMore generous far and civil, who confessedThey had enough revenged, having reducedTheir foe to misery beneath their fears;The rest was magnanimity to remit,If some convenient ransom were proposed.What noise or shout was that? It tore the sky.Chor. Doubtless the people shouting to beholdTheir once great dread, captive and blind before them,[452]Or at some proof of strength before them shown.Man. His ransom, if my whole inheritanceMay compass it, shall willingly be paidAnd numbered down. Much rather I shall chooseTo live the poorest in my tribe, than richestAnd he in that calamitous prison left.No, I am fixed not to part hence without him.For his redemption all my patrimony,If need be, I am ready to forgoAnd quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing.Chor. Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons;Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all:Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age;Thou in old age car'st how to nurse thy son,Made older than thy age through eye-sight lost.Man. ft shall be my delight to tend his eyes,And view him sitting in his house, ennobledWith all those high exploits by him achieved,And on his shoulders waving down those locksThat of a nation armed the strength contained.And I persuade me God hath not permittedHis strength again to grow up with his hairGarrisoned round about him like a campOf faithful soldiery, were not his purposeTo use him further yet in some great service—Not to sit idle with so great a giftUseless, and thence ridiculous, about him.And, since his strength with eye-sight was not lost,God will restore him eye-sight to his strength.Chor. Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain,Of his delivery, and thy joy thereonConceived, agreeable to a father's love;In both which we, as next, participate.Man. I know your friendly minds, and . . . O, whatnoise!Mercy of Heaven! what hideous noise was that?Horribly loud, unlike the former shout.Chor. Noise call you it, or universal groan,As if the whole inhabitation perished?Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise,[453]Ruin, destruction at the utmost point.Man. Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise.Oh! it continues; they have slain my son.Chor. Thy son is rather slaying them: that outcryFrom slaughter of one foe could not ascend.Man. Some dismal accident it needs must be.What shall we do—stay here, or run and see?Chor. Best keep together here, lest, running thither,We unawares, run into danger's mouth.This evil on the Philistines is fallen:From whom could else a general cry be heard?The sufferers, then, will scarce molest us here;From other hands we need not much to fear.What if, his eye-sight (for to Israel's GodNothing is hard) by miracle restored,He now be dealing dole among his foes,And over heaps of slaughtered walk his way?Man. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought.Chor. Yet God hath wrought things as incredibleFor his people of old; what hinders now?Man. He can, I know, but doubt to think he will;Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts belief.A little stay will bring some notice hither.Chor. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner;For evil news rides post, while good news baits.And to our wish I see one hither speeding—An Ebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe.Messenger. O, whither shall I run, or which way flyThe sight of this so horrid spectacle,Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold?For dire imagination still pursues me.But providence or instinct' of nature seems,Or reason, though disturbed and scarce consulted,To have guided me aright, I know not how,To thee first, reverend Manoa, and to theseMy countrymen, whom here I knew remaining,As at some distance from the place of horror,So in the sad event too much concerned.Man. The accident was loud, and here before theeWith rueful cry; yet what it was we hear not.[454]No preface needs; thou seest we long to know.Mess. It would burst forth; but I recover breath,And sense distract, to know well what I utter.Man. Tell us the sum; the circumstance defer.Mess. Gaza yet stands; but all her sons are fallen,All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen.Man. Sad! but thou know'st to Israelites not saddestThe desolation of a hostile city.Mess. Feed on that first; there may in grief be surfeit.Man. Relate by whom.Mess. By Samson.Man. That still lessensThe sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy.Mess. Ah! Manoa, I refrain too suddenlyTo utter what will come at last too soon,Lest evil tidings, with too rude irruptionHitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep.Man. Suspense in news is torture; speak them out.Mess. Then take the worst in brief: Samson is dead.Man. The worst indeed! O, all my hope's defeatedTo free him hence! but Death, who sets all free,Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge.What windy joy this day had I conceived,Hopeful of his delivery, which now provesAbortive as the first-born bloom of springNipt with the lagging rear of winter's frost!Yet, ere I give the reins to grief, say firstHow died he; death to life is crown or shame.All by him fell, thou say'st; by whom fell he?What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound?Mess. Unwounded of his enemies he fell.Man. Wearied with slaughter, then, or how? explain.Mess. By his own hands.Man. Self-violence! What causeBrought him so soon at variance with himselfAmong his foes?Mess. Inevitable cause—At once both to destroy and be destroyed.The edifice, where all were met to see him,Upon their heads and on his own he pulled.[455]Man. O lastly over-strong against thyself!A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge.More than enough we know; but, while things yetAre in confusion, give us, if thou canst,Eye-witness of what first or last was done,Relation more particular and distinct.Mess. Occasions drew me early to this city;And, as the gates I entered with sun-rise,The morning trumpets festival proclaimedThrough each high street. Little I had dispatched,When all abroad was rumoured that this daySamson should be brought forth, to shew the peopleProof of his mighty strength in feats and games.I sorrowed at his captive state, but mindedNot to be absent at that spectacle.The building was a spacious theatre,Half round on two main pillars vaulted high,With seats where all the Lords, and each degreeOf sort, might sit in order to behold;The other side was open, where the throngOn banks and scaffolds under sky might stand:I among these aloof obscurely stood.The feast and noon grew high, and sacrificeHad filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine,When to their sports they turned. ImmediatelyWas Samson as a public servant brought,In their state livery clad: before him pipesAnd timbrels; on each side went armed guards;Both horse and foot before him and behind,Archers and slingers, cataphracts, and spears.At sight of him the people with a shoutRifted the air, clamouring their god with praise,Who had made their dreadful enemy, their thrall.He patient, but undaunted, where they led him,Came to the place; and what was set before him,Which without help of eye might be assayed,To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performedAll with incredible, stupendious force,None daring to appear antagonist.At length, for intermission sake, they led him[456]Between the pillars; he his guide requested(For so from such as nearer stood we heard),As over-tired, to let him lean a whileWith both his arms on those two massy pillars,That to the arched roof gave main support.He unsuspicious led him; which when SamsonFelt in his arms, with head a while enclined,And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed,Or some great matter in his mind revolved:At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud:—"Hitherto, Lords, what your commands imposedI have performed, as reason was, obeying,Not without wonder or delight beheld;Now, of my own accord, such other trialI mean to shew you of my strength yet greaterAs with amaze shall strike all who behold."This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed;As with the force of winds and waters pentWhen mountains tremble, those two massy pillarsWith horrible convulsion to and froHe tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drewThe whole roof after them with burst of thunderUpon the heads of all who sat beneath,Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests,Their choice nobility and flower, not onlyOf this, but each Philistian city round,Met from all parts to solemnize this feast.Samson, with these immixed, inevitablyPulled down the same destruction on himself;The vulgar only scaped, who stood without.Chor. O dearly bought revenge, yet glorious ILiving or dying thou has fulfilledThe work for which thou wast foretoldTo Israel, and now liest victoriousAmong thy slain self-killed;Not willingly, but tangled in the foldOf dire Necessity, whose law in death conjoinedThee with thy slaughtered foes, in number moreThan all thy life had slain before.Semichor. While their hearts were jocund andsublime,[457]Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wineAnd fat regorged of bulls and goats,Chaunting their idol, and preferringBefore our Living Dread, who dwellsIn Silo, his bright sanctuary,Among them he a spirit of phrenzy sent,Who hurt their minds,And urged them on with mad desireTo call in haste for their destroyer.They, only set on sport and play,Unweetingly importunedTheir own destruction to come speedy upon them.So fond are mortal men,Fallen into wrath divine,As their own ruin on themselves to invite,Insensate left, or to sense reprobate,And with blindness internal struck.Semichor. But he, though blind of sight,Despised, and thought extinguished quite,With inward eyes illuminated,His fiery virtue rousedFrom under ashes into sudden flame,And as an evening Dragon came,Assailant on the perched roostsAnd nests in order rangedOf tame villatic fowl, but as an EagleHis cloudless thunder bolted on their heads.So Virtue, given for lost,Depressed and overthrown, as seemed,Like that self-begotten birdIn the Arabian woods embost,That no second knows nor third,And lay erewhile a holocaust,From out her ashy womb now teemed,Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous mostWhen most unactive deemed;And, though her body die, her fame survives,A secular bird, ages of lives.Man. Come, come; no time for lamentation now,Nor much more cause. Samson hath quit himselfLike Samson, and heroicly hath finished[458]A life heroic, on his enemiesFully revenged—hath left them years of mourning,And lamentation to the sons of CaphtorThrough all Philistian bounds; to IsraelHonour hath left and freedom, let but themFind courage to lay hold on this occasion;To himself and father's house eternal fame;And, which is best and happiest yet, all thisWith God not parted from him, as was feared,But favouring and assisting to the end.Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wailOr knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair,And what may quiet us in a death so noble.Let us go find the body where it liesSoaked in his enemies' blood, and from the streamWith lavers pure, and cleansing herbs, wash offThe clotted gore. I, with what speed the while(Gaza is not in plight to say us nay),Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend,With silent obsequy and funeral train,Home to his father's house. There will I build himA monument, and plant it round with shadeOf laurel ever green and branching palm,With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolledIn copious legend, or sweet lyric song.Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,And from his memory inflame their breastsTo matchless valour and adventures high;The virgins also shall, on feastful days,Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailingHis lot unfortunate in nuptial choice,From whence captivity and loss of eyes.Chor. All is best, though we oft doubtWhat the unsearchable disposeOf Highest Wisdom brings about,And ever best found in the close.Oft He seems to hide his face,But unexpectedly returns,[459]And to his faithful Champion hath in placeBore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns,And all that band them to resistHis uncontrollable intent.His servants He, with new acquistOf true experience from this great event,With peace and consolation hath dismissed,And calm of mind, all passion spent.