Class Zcc ^ 
 
 Book 
 
 tS 
 
 GopyiighlN" \ ^ 5 
 
 CDFlfRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
Robert Browning 
 
 Saul 
 
 Designed and 
 hand colored by 
 Lolita Ferine 
 
 /7^ 
 
 Published in New York by 
 Dodge Publishing Company 
 
 Copyright, igoj, by Dodge Publishing Co. 
 
THE LIBRAPV OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 One Copy RecErvEO 
 
 NOV. 1903 
 
 CLASS '^ XXa No 
 COPY B.' 
 
©?&^ 
 
 Saul 
 
 I 
 
 SAID Abner, "At last thou art come! 
 Ere I tell, ere thou speak, 
 Kiss my cheek, wish me well!" Then I 
 
 wished it, and did kiss his cheek. 
 And he, "Since the King, my friend, for 
 
 thy countenance sent. 
 Neither drunken nor eaten have we; nor until 
 
 from his tent 
 Thou return with the joyful assurance the 
 
 King liveth yet, 
 Shall our lips with the honey be bright, with 
 
 the water be wet. 
 For out of the black mid-tent's silence, a 
 
 space of three days. 
 Not a sound hath escaped to thy servants, of 
 
 prayer nor of praise, 
 To betoken that Saul and the Spirit have 
 
 ended their strife, 
 And that, faint in his triumph, the monarch 
 
 sinks back upon life. 
 
en J, as was meet, 
 Knelt down to the God of my 
 
 fathers, and rose on my feet, 
 And ran o'er the sand burnt 
 
 to powder. 
 
Saul 
 
 III 
 
 Then I, as was meet, 
 Knelt down to the God of my fathers, and 
 
 rose on my feet. 
 And ran o'er the sand burnt to powder. The 
 
 tent was unlooped; 
 I pulled up the spear that obstructed, and 
 
 under I stooped; 
 Hands and knees on the slippery grass-patch, 
 
 all withered and gone, 
 That extends to the second enclosure, I 
 
 groped my way on 
 Till I felt where the foldskirts fly open. Then 
 
 once more I prayed. 
 And opened the foldskirts and entered, and 
 
 was not afraid 
 But spoke, "Here is David, thy servant!" 
 
 And no voice replied. 
 At the first I saw nought but the blackness; 
 
 but soon I descried 
 A something more black than the blackness — 
 
 the vast, the upright 
 
<s^&. 
 
 Saul 
 
 VII 
 
 Then I played the help-tune of our reapers, 
 their wine-song, when hand 
 
 Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good friend- 
 ship, and great hearts expand 
 
 And grow one in the sense of this world's life. 
 — And then, the last song 
 
 When the dead man is praised on his journey 
 — "Bear, bear him along 
 
 With his few faults shut up like dead flowerets! 
 
 — Are balm seeds not here 
 To console us? The land has none left such 
 
 as he on the bier. 
 Oh, would we might keep thee, my brother!" 
 
 —And then, the glad chaunt 
 Of the marriage,— first go the young maidens, 
 
 next, she whom we vaunt 
 As the beauty, the pride of our dwelling.— 
 
 And then, the great march 
 
ir manhood's prime 
 
 vigor 
 
 o spirit feels waste, 
 
 Not a muscle is stopped in its 
 
 playing, nor sinew unbraced. 
 
 •h, the wild joys of living! the 
 
 leaping from rock up to rock, 
 
 The strong rending of boughs from 
 
 the fir-tree, the cool silver shock 
 
 Of the plunge in a pool's living 
 
 water, the hunt of the bear. 
 And the sultriness showing the 
 lion is couched in his lair. 
 
Saul 
 
 II 
 
 IX 
 
 "Oh, our manhood's prime vigor! 
 
 No spirit feels waste, 
 Not a muscle is stopped in its playing, nor 
 
 sinew unbraced. 
 Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from 
 
 rock up to rock, 
 The strong rending of boughs from the fir- 
 tree, the cool silver shock 
 Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the 
 
 hunt of the bear, 
 And the sultriness showing the lion is couched 
 
 in his lair. 
 And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over 
 
 with gold dust divine, 
 And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, 
 
 the full draught of wine, 
 And the sleep in the dried river-channel where 
 
 bulrushes tell 
 That the water was wont to go warbling so 
 
 softly and well. 
 
^cJ^Oi 
 
 12 
 
 Saul 
 
 How good is man's life, the mere living! how 
 fit to employ 
 
 All the heart and the soul and the senses for- 
 ever in joy! 
 
 Hast thou loved the white locks of thy father, 
 whose sword thou didst guard 
 
 When he trusted thee forth with the armies, 
 for glorious reward? 
 
 Didst thou see the thin hands of thy mother, 
 held up as men sung 
 
 The low song of the newly-departed, and hear 
 her faint tongue 
 
 Joining in while it could to the witness, 'Let 
 one more attest, 
 
 I have lived, seen God's hand through a life- 
 time, and all was for best?' 
 
 Then they sung through their tears in strong 
 triumph, not much, but the rest. 
 
 And thy brotiiers, and help and the contest, 
 the working whence grew 
 
 Such results as, from seething grape-bundles, 
 the spirit strained true: 
 
 And the friends of thy boyhood— that boy- 
 hood of wonder and hope. 
 
 Present promise and wealth of the future 
 beyond the eye's scope, — 
 
 Till lo, thou art grown to a monarch; a people 
 is thine; 
 
14 
 
 Saut 
 
 And lo, with that leap of my spirit,— heart, 
 
 hand, harp and voice, 
 Each hfting Saul's name out of sorrow, pach 
 
 bidding rejoice 
 Saul's fame in the hght it was made for— as 
 
 when, dare I say. 
 The Lord's army, in rapture of service, strains 
 
 through its array. 
 And upsoareth the cherubim-chariot — "Saul!" 
 
 cried I, and stopped, 
 And waited the thing that should follow. 
 
 Then Saul, who hung propped 
 By the tent's cross-support in the centre, was 
 
 struck by his name. 
 Have ye seen when Spring's arrowy summons 
 
 goes right to the aim. 
 And some mountain, the last to withstand her, 
 
 that held (he alone. 
 While the vale laughed in freedom and 
 
 flowers) on a broad bust of stone 
 
nd lo, with that leap 
 of my spirit,— heart, 
 hand, harp and 
 voice, 
 Each lifting Saul's name 
 out of sorrow, each bid- 
 ding rejoice 
 SauTs fame in the light it 
 was made for— as when, 
 dare I say. 
 The Lord's army, in rap- 
 ture of service, strains 
 through its array. 
 And upsoareth the cheru- 
 bim-chariot — '' Saul !" 
 cried I, and stopped, 
 d waited the thing that 
 ould follow. 
 
 H 
 
uv 
 
 Saul 
 
 15 
 
 A year's snow bound about for a breast-plate, 
 
 — leaves grasp of the sheet? 
 Fold on fold all at once it crowds thunder- 
 ously down to his feet, 
 And there fronts you, stark, black, but alive 
 
 yet, your mountain of old, 
 With his rentp, the successive bequeathings of 
 
 ages untold — 
 Yes, each harm got in fighting your battles, 
 
 each furrow and scar 
 Of his head thrust 'twixt you and the tem- 
 pest—all hail, there they are! 
 — Now again to be softened with verdure, 
 
 again hold the nest 
 Of the dove, tempt the goat and its young to 
 
 the green on his crest 
 For their food in the ardors of summer. One 
 
 long shudder thrilled 
 All the tent till the very air tingled, then sank 
 
 and was stilled 
 At the King's self left standing before me, 
 
 released and aware. 
 What was gone, what remained? All to 
 
 traverse 'twixt hope and despair; 
 Death was past, life not come: so he waited. 
 
 Awhile his right hand 
 Held the brow, helped the eyes left too vacant 
 
 forthwith to remand 
 
 M)3 
 
 ^^ 
 
^^ 
 
 16 
 
 Saul 
 
 To their place what new objects should enter: 
 
 'twas Saul as before. 
 1 looked up and dared gaze at those eyes, nor 
 
 was hurt any more 
 Than by slow pallid sunsets in autumn, ye 
 
 watch from the shore, 
 At their sad level gaze o'er the ocean— a sun's 
 
 slow decline 
 Over hills which, resolved in stern silence, 
 
 o'er-lap and entwine 
 Base with base to knit strength more intensely: 
 
 so arm folded arm 
 O'er the chest whose slow heavings subsided. 
 
-(SB- 
 
 Saol 
 
 17 
 
 What spell of what charm 
 For, awhile there was trouble within me,) 
 
 what next should I urge 
 To sustain him where song had restored him? 
 
 —Song filled to the verge 
 His cup with the wine of this life, pressing all 
 
 that it yields 
 Of mere fruitage, the strength and the beauty: 
 
 beyond, on what fields. 
 Glean a vintage more potent and perfect to 
 
 brighten the eye 
 And bring blood to the lip, and commend 
 
 them the cup they put by? 
 He saith, "It is good;" still he drinks not: he 
 
 lets me praise life. 
 Gives assent, yet would die for his own part. 
 
 •ssSl-J 
 
18 
 
 Saul 
 
 XII 
 
 Then fancies grew rife 
 Which had come long ago on the pasture, 
 
 when round me the sheep 
 Fed in silence — above, the one eagle wheeled 
 
 slow as in sleep; 
 And I lay in my hollow and mused on the 
 
 world that might lie 
 'Neath his ken, though I saw but the strip 
 
 'twixt the hill and the sky: 
 And I laughed— "Since my days are ordained 
 
 to be passed with my flocks. 
 Let me people at least, with my fancies, the 
 
 plains and the rocks. 
 Dream the life I am never to mix with, and 
 
 image the show 
 Of mankind as they live in those fashions I 
 
 hardly shall know! 
 Schemes of life, its best rules and right uses, 
 
 the courage that gains. 
 And the prudence that keeps what men strive 
 
 for." 
 
^^0! 
 
 20 
 
 Saul 
 
 XIII 
 
 "Yea, my King," 
 
 I began— "thou dost well in rejecting mere 
 comforts that spring 
 
 From the mere mortal life held in common by 
 man and by brute : 
 
 In our flesh grows the branch of this life, in 
 our soul it bears fruit. 
 
 Thou hast marked the slow rise of the tree, — 
 how its stem trembled first 
 
 Till it passed the kid's lip, the stag's antler; 
 then safely outburst 
 
 The fan-branches all round; and thou mindest 
 when these too, in turn. 
 
 Broke a-bloom and the palm-tree seemed per- 
 fect: yet more was to learn. 
 
 E'en the good that comes in with the palm- 
 fruit. Our dates shall we slight, 
 
 When their juice brings a cure for all sorrow? 
 or care for the plight 
 
 if 
 
 E 
 
g)«??V» 
 
 Saul 
 
 21 
 
 Of the palm's self whose slow growth produced 
 
 them? Not so! stem and branch 
 Shall decay, nor be known in their place, while 
 
 the palm-wine shall stanch 
 Every wound of man's spirit in winter. I 
 
 pour thee such wine. 
 Leave the flesh to the fate it was fit for! the 
 
 spirit be thine! 
 By the spirit, when age shall o'ercome thee, 
 
 thou still shalt enjoy 
 More indeed, than at first when inconscious, 
 
 the life of a boy. 
 Crush that life, and behold its wine running! 
 
 Each deed thou hast done 
 Dies, revives, goes to work in the world; until 
 
 e'en as the sun 
 Looking down on the earth, though clouds 
 
 spoil him, though tempests efface, 
 Can find nothing his own deed produced not, 
 
 must everywhere trace 
 The results of his past summer-prime, — so, 
 
 each ray of thy will, 
 Every flush of thy passion and prowess, long 
 
 over, shall thrill 
 Thy whole people, the countless, with ardor, 
 
 till they too give forth 
 A like cheer to their sons, who in turn, fill the 
 
 South and the North 
 
^.^Q 
 
 22 
 
 Saul 
 
 With the radiance thy deed was the germ of. 
 Carouse in the past! 
 
 But the license of age has its limit; thou diest 
 at last: 
 
 As the lion when age dims his eyeball, the 
 rose at her height, 
 
 So with man — so his power and his beauty for- 
 ever take flight. 
 
 No! Again a long draught of my soul- wine! 
 Look forth o'er the years! 
 
 Thou hast done now with eyes for the actual; 
 begin with the seer's! 
 
 Is Saul dead? In the depth of the vale make 
 his tomb — bid arise 
 
 A gray mountain of marble heaped four- 
 square, till, built to the skies. 
 
 Let it mark where the great First King slum- 
 bers: whose fame would ye know? 
 
 Up above see the rock's naked face, where the 
 record shall go 
 
 In great characters cut by the scribe, — Such 
 was Saul, so he did; 
 
 With the sages directing the work, by the 
 populace chid, — 
 
 For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! 
 Which fault to amend, 
 
 In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, 
 v/hereon they shall spend 
 
^iffl?@ 
 
 24 
 
 Saul 
 
 XIV 
 
 And behold while I sang . . . but Thou 
 
 who didst grant me that day, 
 And before it not seldom hast granted thy 
 
 help to essay, 
 Carry on and complete an adventure, — my 
 
 shield and my sword 
 In that act where my soul was thy servant, 
 
 thy word was my word. 
 Still be with me, who then at the summit of 
 
 human endeavor 
 And scaling the highest, man's thought could, 
 
 gazed hopeless as ever 
 On the new stretch of heaven above me — till, 
 
 mighty to save. 
 Just one lift of thy hand cleared that dis- 
 tance — God's throne from man's grave; 
 Let me tell out my tale to its ending — my 
 
 voice to my heart 
 Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels 
 
 last night I took part, 
 
26 
 
 Saul 
 
 XV 
 
 I say then, — my song 
 While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and 
 
 ever more strong 
 Made a proffer of good to console him — he 
 
 slowly resumed 
 His old motions and habitudes kingly. The 
 
 right hand replumed 
 His black locks to their wonted composure, 
 
 adjusted the swathes 
 Of his turban, and see — the huge sweat that 
 
 his countenance bathes. 
 He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now 
 
 his loins as of yore. 
 And feels slow for the armlets of price, with 
 
 the clasp set before. 
 He is Saul, ye remember in glory, — ere error 
 
 had bent 
 The broad brow from the daily communion; 
 
 and still, though much spent 
 
Saul 
 
 27 
 
 Be the life and the bearing that front you, 
 
 the same, God did choose. 
 To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, 
 
 never quite lose. 
 So sank he along by the tent-prop till, stayed 
 
 by the pile 
 Of his armor and war-cloak and garments, he 
 
 leaned there awhile. 
 And sat out my singing, — one arm round the 
 
 tent-prop, to raise 
 His bent head, and the other hung slack — till 
 
 I touched on the praise 
 I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man 
 
 patient there; 
 And thus ended, the harp falling forward. 
 
 Then first I was 'ware 
 That he sat, as I say, with my head just above 
 
 his vast knees 
 Which were thrust on each side around me, 
 
 like oak roots which please 
 To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I 
 
 looked up to know 
 If the best I could do had brought solace: he 
 
 spoke not, but slow 
 Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he 
 
 laid it with care 
 goft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my 
 
 brow: through my hair 
 
 W^ 
 
28 
 
 Saul 
 
 The large fingers were pushed, and he bent 
 
 back my head, with kind power — 
 All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men 
 
 do a flower. 
 Thus held he me there with his great eyes 
 
 that scrutinized mine — 
 And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but 
 
 where was the sign? 
 I yearned — "Could I help thee, my father, 
 
 inventing a bliss, 
 I would add, to that life of the past, both the 
 
 future and this; 
 I would give thee new life altogether, as good, 
 
 ages hence. 
 As this moment, — had love but the warrant, 
 
 love's heart to dispense!" 
 
 IK 
 
yearned— <<Could I help 
 thee, my father, invent- 
 ing a bliss, 
 
 I would add, to that life 
 of the past, both the 
 future and this; 
 
 I would give thee new 
 life altogether, as good, 
 ages hence, 
 
 As this moment, — had 
 love but the warrant, 
 love's heart to dis- 
 pense ! " 
 
 28 
 
30 
 
 Saul 
 
 Do I task any faculty highest, to image suc- 
 cess? 
 I but open my eyes, — and perfection, no more 
 
 and no less, 
 In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and 
 
 God is seen God 
 In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the 
 
 soul and the clod. 
 And thus looking within and around me, I 
 
 ever renew 
 (With that stoop of the soul which in bending 
 
 upraises it too) 
 The submission of man's nothing-perfect to 
 
 God's all-complete, 
 As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to 
 
 his feet. 
 Yet with all this abounding experience, this 
 
 deity known, 
 I shall dare to discover some province, some 
 
 gift of my own. 
 There's a faculty pleasant to exercise, hard to 
 
 hoodwink, 
 I am fain to keep still in abeyance, (I laugh as 
 
 I think) 
 Lest, insisting to claim and parade in it, wot 
 
 ye, I worst 
 E'en the Giver is one gift. — Behold, I could 
 
 love if I durst! 
 
B'^^^, 
 
 Saul 
 
 31 
 
 But I sink the pretension as fearing a man 
 
 may o'ertake 
 God's own speed in the one way of love: I 
 
 abstain for love's sake. 
 — What, my soul? see thus far and no farther? 
 
 when doors great and small, 
 Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should 
 
 the hundredth appall? 
 In the least things have faith, yet distrust in 
 
 the greatest of all? 
 Do I find love so full in my nature, God's 
 
 ultimate gift, 
 That I doubt his own love can compete with 
 
 it? Here, the parts shift? 
 Here, the creature surpass the Creator — the 
 
 end, what Began? 
 Would I fain in my impotent yearning do all 
 
 for this man. 
 And dare doubt he alone shall not help him, 
 
 who yet alone can? 
 Would it ever have entered my mind, the 
 
 bare will, much less power. 
 To bestow on this Saul what I sang of, the 
 
 marvelous dower 
 Of the life he was gifted and filled with? to 
 
 make such a soul, 
 Such a body, and then such an earth for 
 
 insphering the whole? 
 
32 
 
 Saul 
 
 And doth it not enter my mind (as my warm 
 tears attest), 
 
 These good things being given, to go on, and 
 give one more, the best? 
 
 Ay, to save and redeem and restore him, 
 maintain at the height 
 
 This perfection, — succeed with life's day- 
 spring, death's minute of night? 
 
 Interpose at the difficult minute, snatch 
 Saul the mistake, 
 
 Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now, — 
 and bid him awake 
 
 From the dream, the probation, the prelude, 
 to find himself set 
 
 Clear and safe in new light and new life, — a 
 new harmony yet 
 
 To be run, and continued, and ended — who 
 knows? — or endure! 
 
 The man taught enough by life's dream, of the 
 rest to make sure; 
 
 By the pain-throb, triumphantly winning in- 
 tensified bliss. 
 
 And the next world's reward and repose, by 
 the struggles in this. 
 
jy the pain-throb, tri- 
 umphantly winning in- 
 tensified bliss, 
 And the next world*s re- 
 ward and repose, by the 
 struggles in this. 
 
 32 
 
B^^Sk^ 
 
 Satil 
 
 33 
 
 XVII 
 
 ^ 
 
 "I believe it! 'Tis thou, God, that givest, 'tis 
 
 I who receive: 
 In the first is the last, in thy will is my power 
 
 to believe. 
 All's one gift: thou canst grant it moreover, 
 
 as prompt to my prayer 
 As I breathe out this breath, as I open these 
 
 arms to the air. 
 From thy will, stream the worlds, life and 
 
 nature, thy dread Sabaoth: 
 / will? the mere atoms despise me! Why 
 
 am I not loth 
 To look that, even that in the face too? Why 
 
 is it I dare 
 Think but lightly of such impuissance? What 
 
 stops my despair? 
 This; — 'tis not what man Does which exalts 
 
 him, but what man Would do! 
 See the King — I would help him but cannot, 
 
 the wishes fall through. 
 
^4^0! 
 
 34 
 
 Saul 
 
 Could I wrestle to raise him from sorrow, 
 
 grow poor to enrich, 
 To fill up his life, starve my own out, I would 
 
 —knowing which, 
 I know that my service is perfect. Oh, speak 
 
 through me now! 
 "Would I suffer for him that I love? So 
 
 wouldst thou — so wilt thou! 
 So shall crown thee the topmost, ineff ablest, 
 
 uttermost crown — 
 And thy love fills infinitude wholly, nor leave 
 
 up nor down 
 One spot for the creature to stand in! It is 
 
 by no breath, 
 Turn of eye, wave of hand, that salvation 
 
 joins issue with death! 
 As thy Love is discovered almighty, almighty 
 
 be proved 
 Thy power, that exists with and for it, of 
 
 being Beloved! 
 He who did most, shall bear most; the strong- 
 est shall stand the most weak. 
 »Tis the weakness in strength that I cry for! 
 
 my flesh, that I seek 
 In the Godhead! I seek and I find it. 
 
 Saul, it shall be 
 A Face like my face that receives thee ; a Man 
 
 like to me 
 
«N^@! 
 
 36 
 
 Saul 
 
 XVIII 
 
 I know not too well how I found my way 
 
 home in the night. 
 There were witnesses, cohorts about me, to 
 
 left and to right. 
 Angels, powers, the unuttered, unseen, the 
 
 alive, the aware : 
 I repressed, I got through them as hardly, as 
 
 strugglingly there, 
 As a runner beset by the populace famished 
 
 for news — 
 Life or death. The whole earth was awak- 
 ened, hell loosed with her crews; 
 And the stars of night beat with emotion, 
 
 and tingled and shot 
 Out in fire the strong pain of pent knowledge: 
 
 but I fainted not. 
 For the Hand still impelled me at once and 
 
 supported, suppressed 
 All the tumult, and quenched it with quiet, 
 
 and holy behest. 
 
Saul 
 
 37 
 
 Till the rapture was shut in itself, and the 
 
 earth sank to rest. 
 Anon at the dawn, all that trouble had 
 
 withered from earth — 
 Not so much, but I saw it die out in the day's 
 
 tender birth; 
 In the gathered intensity brought to the 
 
 gray of the hills; 
 In the shuddering forests* held breath; in the 
 
 sudden wind-thrills; 
 In the startled wild beasts that bore off, each 
 
 with eye sidling still 
 Though averted with wonder and dread; in 
 
 the birds stiff and chill 
 That rose heavily, as I approached them, 
 
 made stupid with awe: 
 E'en the serpent that slid away silent, he 
 
 felt the new law. 
 The same stared in the white humid faces 
 
 upturned by the flowers; 
 The same worked in the heart of the cedar 
 
 and moved the vine-bowers: 
 And the little brooks witnessing murmured, 
 
 persistent and low. 
 With their obstinate, all but hushed voices — 
 
 "E'en so, it is so!" 
 
 FINIS. 
 
.BMy'21