Francis Sabie

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Dauid And Beersheba

Svch time as Tytan with his fiery beames
In highest degree, made duskish Leo sweat
Field-tilling Swains driue home their toiling teams,
Out-wearied with ardencie of heat
And country heards to seeke a shadie seate
All mortall things from seruency of weather,
In sheltring shades doe shroud themselues together.
Beersheba wife vnto Vrius stout,
A Captaine vnder Ioab of renowne
Whom princely Dauid with a warring rout
Had sent to beat the pride of Ammon downe.
And to besiege and ransacke Rabbah towne,
Betooke her selfe into a garden faire,
Inricht with flowers, which sent a pleasant ayre.
On euery side this garden was beset,
With choice of rare delights and Arbors geason
The Lentisk, fig-tree, and Pomgranet great,
Grew there in order, far surpassing reason.
The ground was deckt with Gyliflowers fine,
Carnations sweet, and speckled sops, in wine.
There might you heare vpon the pleasant trees,
The little birds melodiously to sing
Vpon the blossoms wrought the painfull Bees,
Neere was it to the pallace of the King,
Within it also was a pleasant spring.
Whose liquid humour moystened the same,
A garden worthy of so worthy dame.

Now gathereth she the sweetest of the sweet,
And pretilie from flower to flower trippeth,
Soone after to the fountaine turnes her feet,
Then daintily her hands of gloues she strippeth,
And in the Chrystall waues her fingers dippeth.
She likes it well, and calles it passing coole,
And minds to bath her bodie in the poole.
Then nimbly castes she off her Damaske frocke,
Her Satten stole most curiously made
Her Partlet needle-wrought, her Cambricke smocke,
And on a seat thereby them nicely laid.
And so to wash her in the well assay'd.
O shut thine eies Narcissus come not neere,
Least in the well a burning fire appeare.
Sleep still King Dauid in thy Princely bed,
Where now thou takst thine after-dinners nap
O rouse not vp from sleep thy kingly head.
Least by mischaunce thou fall into a trap,
See heere of mans fragilitie a map
Thou canst not (Dauid) needs must thou vpstart,
Thy God will haue thee know how frayle thou art.
Now riseth he, and vp in haste he flies,
Vpon the highest turret of his tower
There standing, all the Cittie ouerpries
Her carued Bulwarkes, and ech goodly bower.
But O vnlucky time, O dismall hower!
Stop Ishas sonne thine eares, keep sayles on hie,
Least Syrens songs doe drawe thy mind awry.

Suruaying thus his towne, at length he cast
His eye-lids downe, and saw Beersheba naked
His princely heart, which neuer yet did tast
Of euill, stroke with burning feuer quaked
A fire he caught, by no waues to be slaked.
And as he striues to quench this flaming fire,
Still kindles it with bellowes of desire.
Much better hadst thou kept within thy pallace,
There on thy harpe t'aue fed thy mind with joy
Or entertain'd some pretie pleasing sollace.
But are the godly subject to annoy?
Must they be ruled by a wanton boy?
His eie approou'd, his heart it gaue consent,
And both were spurres vnto his bad intent.
With washing waues her breast he saw her decke,
He cals it Nectar, wherof Angels drinke
With Iuory armes she rubs her milky necke,
White Doues which fall on snow he doth them thinke
He wisheth he himselfe were at the brinke.
But with the candle whilst he thus doth play,
At last his wings were burned quite away,
And now begins the combatant assault,
Betweene the willing flesh and nilling spirit.
The flesh alluring him vnto the fault,
The spirit tels him of a dreadfull merit.
And in the end flesh conquered the spirit.
He sends, she came, he wooes, she gaue consent,
And did the deed, not fearing to be shent.

What hast thou done, O Psalmist? blush for shame,
Thinkst thou thy sinne will neuer come to light.
No, no, Iehouah will reueale the same,
Though thou hadst don't in silence of the night.
Yet would he bring it into open sight
T'was he would put thy piety in triall,
To see if thou wouldst yeeld or make denyall.
Now three times Cynthia in the Welkin bright
Her circle full vnto the earth did lend
Thrise had she lost againe her borrowed light,
Since Dauid with Beersheba did offend,
And now began she feele her wombe extend.
What should she doe? her fault she could not couer,
Of many dayes she had not seen her louer.
And now shee moanes her to the King, and sayes
In mournfull sort, shee feeles her selfe with child
His guilty mind disturbed many wayes,
(Wit waites on feare) finds out a pretie wild,
Wherwith he hopes his maker to beguild.
But what? can Prophets then so grosly slide,
And from their God suppose their sinnes to hide?
He sendeth word to Ioab presently,
His true estate in letters to expresse
And therewith send Vrias speedilie,
Vrias comes, he readeth their successe,
And bids him goe vnto his wife in peace.
But see the more he labour'd to conceale it,
So much the more God labour'd to reueale it,

Vrias would not goe vnto his house,
But gathered strawe, and layd it in the yard,
And caring not to frolike with his spouse,
He laid him down to sleep amid the Gard.
As soone as Dauid had these tydings hard,
He askes him why he rested not at home,
From toyling warres art thou not lately come?
No (quoth Vrias) tis for me vnfit
To sleep within, whilst Ioab is without
Vnseemly tis to see the seruant fit,
And let his maister toyle and run about
What, lyeth not the Arke of God without?
I sweare by Dauids crowne and princelie head,
Whilst things goe thus, I will not come in bed.
And now is Dauid vexed worse and worse,
And euery way is forc'd his wits to sift
By this he hath deuis'd a second course,
And means to put in vre a pretie shift,
To make Vrias drunken was his drift.
So thinkes he, hee'ill forget his dutie quite,
And mooued be therewith to some delight.
He charg'd his seruantes entertaine him well,
To giue him store of wine, and comfits daintie
Before the King to banquetting they fell,
Sweet syrrops there they had, and wine great plentie
He dranke to twentie, and he pledged twenty.
They quaft off flagons full, and spared not,
The third sell alwayes to Vrias lot.

Heere, heer (saith one) I drinke vnto my brother,
Ile pledge him (quoth Vrias) hees my friend
I drinke to such a Captaine (quoth another)
And he to all a good carrouse would send
Surcharg'd with wine, he staggerd in the end.
He walketh vp and downe the stately hall,
But alwaies leanes, and cleaues vnto the wall.
Full glad was Dauid now, and hop'd his plot
Would take effect, he almost was secure
He heard the souldiour talke he knew not what,
He with Beershebas name did him allure,
He thought that night would breed contentment sure
But what so ere he built, it could not stand,
For all his worke was built vpon the sand.
Now night was come, all creatures went to rest,
Downe lay the Hitthite where he slept before
King Dauid with a sea of cares opprest,
Was driuen welnigh to dispaire his doore,
Yet still against the streame he labours more.
Thus euermore sinne leadeth vnto sinne,
A lesser ends, and greater doth begin.
Stay sinfull King, looke backe, and aske thy pardon,
It boots thee not alas thy selfe to hide
So guiltie Adam hid him in the garden,
So Ionah fled vpon the surging tide.
Yet quickly had Iehouah them espide.
Looke backe (I say) confesse it is much better,
To hide a lesser sinne doe not a greater.

And now againe hee's driuen to inuent,
And vp and downe for pollicies to roue
Yet finds he nothing vnto his content,
At length the deuill a deadly plot doth moue,
And he thereof doth presently approue.
In errour blind still walkes the Letcher further,
And thinks to hide adultery with murther.
Obliuious Prophet, call to minde thine oth,
Thou vowdst to keep the couenant of thy Lord
More sweet thou saydst then combe or honey both,
More deare then Gems which Tagus doth afford.
Thou brag'dst thou joyedst only in his word.
Chose he not thee his tender lambes to keepe?
And like a Wolfe wilt thou deuoure his sheep?
And now begins this deuilishnesse to bud,
He vnto Ioab letters doth indite,
O fearfull letters, messengers of bloud,
He wils him place him foremost in the fight,
And let him die, whilst they escape by flight.
And by Vrias sends he him away,
he guiltlesse beares a sword himselfe to slay.
He guiltlesse beares a sword himselfe to flay,
And harmlesse feares no treason to be wrought
So doth the Cony fall into the hay,
So is the bird vnto the Lyme-bush brought,
So on the hooke the nibling Fish is caught.
he to his Captaine doth his letters bring,
Who readeth them, and minds to doe the thing.

Soone after causd he them the towne to sacke,
Next to the walles Vrias preass'd amaine
The Rabbanits came out, Ioab fled backe,
And many of his souldiours there were slaine,
Among the which Vrias caught his bane.
O joyfull tydings to th'offenders eares,
Now frolickes he, and no suspition feares.
Securely now he layes him downe to sleepe,
As he were blemisht with no sinfull spot,
As all his sinnes were drowned in the deepe,
Or Lethes waues, where all thinges be forgot,
As though Iehouah wink'd and saw him not.
Till at the last vnto his vile disgrace,
Thus Nathan sent, reproou'd him to his face.
Ah Churle (quoth he, and sadly tels the tale,)
Within a little cittie dwelling was
Much cattell had he feeding in his pale,
And pastures faire, which yeelded hay and grasse,
None could be seene in riches him to passe.
Great store of golde he had, of Gems and treasure,
He felt no want, but liued at his pleasure.
A very poore man neere vnto him dwelled,
One little sheep, who fostered at his manger,
To which in loue he mightily excelled
And in his bosome shrouded her from danger.
Now to this Misers house there came a stranger.
And sparing all his owne, vnto the feast
He butchted vp, and eat the poore mans beast.

Hereat was Dauid verie sore incenst,
He chas'd, and rag'd thereat exceedinglie
Without reuenge his wrath could not be quench'd,
He swore the man that did the sinne should die,
Himselfe would see him tortur'd by and by.
Thou, thou (quoth Nathan) art the man indeed
That hath commitred this detested deed.
Thus sayth thy God, thou wert a shepheards boy,
A seruile arte, and feddest sheep in field
Then wert thou subject vnto much annoy,
A russet cloake did thee from weather shield.
And liuedst of the fruite thy flocke did yeeld.
A shepheards hooke vpon thy back thou borest,
A lether scrip about thy necke thou worest.
Then ioyest thou to gather Filberds ripe,
To play at Barly-breake amongst the Swaines
To tune rude Odes vpon an Oaten pipe,
Thy feeding heards to follow on the plaines,
And driue them backe againe, no little paines
From greedy Wolues to shield thy tender Lambes,
And meat to fetch vnto their blating Dams,
And now thy title low I haue suborned,
Made thee my Prophet of a shepheard base
And with a Regall Crowne thine head adorned,
I chaung'd thy sheep-hook to a princelie Mace
What earthly man is now in higher place?
Thou hadst seuen brethren goodlier in blee.
Yet I refusing them, made choise of thee.

I ouerthrew Goliah with thy sling,
Thou but a dwarfe, and he a Gyant tall,
I gaue to thee the daughter of a King,
I sau'd thee from the hands of murthring Saulo,
I gaue thee wiues, and concubines and all.
I made thee feed my people Israell,
And all because I loued thee so well.
And if in heart thou hadst desired more,
More also had I added to thy life
But thou of wiues although thou haddest store,
Hast taken vnto thee Vrias wife,
And caus'd him to be slaine by Ammons knife.
And walking still in this absurditie,
Thinkst to conceale this haynous sin from me.
Now whilst thou liu'st, for this which thou hast done,
The sword shall neuer from thy house depart
And of thy seed thou shalt beget a sonne,
Which shall pursue thee with a deadly dart.
Now is the Psalmist stroken to the heart.
Three sundry times endeuoured he to speake,
Three times he sob'd as though his heart would break
And now at last begins he to relent,
A showre of teares distilled from his eyes
His heart is humbled, fearing to be shent,
And lifting mind and hands vnto the skies,
Peccaui Deus, manie times be cries
Rise vp (quoth Nathan) God doth heare thy crie
Thy sin is pardon'd, but thy child shall die.

And then in heart as lowly as a childe,
Betakes him to his chamber all alone
There weepeth he before his maker milde,
And oftimes sobbing, maketh piteous mone,
Complayning other help it he hath none.
Thus in the end distressed as he stood,
He tooke his harpe and warbled out this Ode.

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