Davideis Sacred Poem Troubles David Excerpt

BOOK I (excerpt)

I sing the man who Judah’s sceptre bore

In that right hand which held the crook before;

Who from best poet, best of kings did grow;

The two chief gifts Heav’n could on man bestow.

Much danger first, much toil did he sustain,

Whilst Saul and Hell cross’d his strong fate in vain.

Nor did his crown less painful work afford;

Less exercise his patience, or his sword;

So long her conqueror fortunes spite pursued;

Till with unwearied virtue he subdued

All homebred malice, and all foreign boasts;

Their strength was armies, his the Lord of Hosts.

Thou, who didst David’s royal stem adorn,

And gav’st him birth from whom thy self wast born;

Who didst in triumph at death’s court appear,

And slew’st him with thy nails, thy cross and spear,

Whilst Hell’s black tyrant trembled to behold,

The glorious light he forfeited of old;

Who Heav’ns glad burden now, and justest pride,

Sit’st high enthron’d next thy great Father’s side,

(Where hallowed flames help to adorn that head

Which once the blushing thorns environed,

Till crimson drops of precious blood hung down

Like rubies to enrich thine humble crown.)

Even thou my breast with such blest rage inspire,

As mov’d the tuneful strings of David’s lyre,

Guide my bold steps with thine old travelling flame,

In these untrodden paths to sacred fame;

Lo, with pure hands thy heav’enly fires to take,

My well-chang’d Muse I a chaste vestal make!

From earth’s vain joys, and love’s soft witchcraft free,

I consecrate my Magdalene to thee!

Lo, this great work, a temple to thy praise,

On polish’d pillars of strong verse I raise!

A temple, where if thou vouchsafe to dwell,

It Solomon’s, and Herod’s shall excel.

Too long the Muses-land have heathen bin;

Their gods too long were devils, and virtues sin;

But thou, Eternal Word, has call’d forth me

Th’ apostle, to convert that world to thee;

T’ unbind the charms that in slight fables lie,

And teach that truth is purest poesy.

…

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• Why England Is Conservative poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Who Would Not Die For England! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “When the reaper lays the sickle by ” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• When Runnels Began To Leap And Sing poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• ” When in the long–drawn avenues of Thought” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “`Were I a Poet, I would dwell” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Since We Must Die poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Wardens Of The Wave poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To The Autumn Wind poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Robert Louis Stevenson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ireland poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To England poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ellen Terry poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Beatrice Stuart–Wortley Ætat poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! (II) poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Alfred Tennyson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “‘Tis because, though in dusky bower” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Time’s Weariness poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin

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