All chances incident to man's frail life, Consolatories writ With studied argument, and much persuasion sought Lenient of grief and anxious thought: But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound Little prevails, or rather seems a tune Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint; Unless he feel within Some source of consolation from above, Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, And 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'st The angelick 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, And people's safety, which in part they effect: Changest thy countenance, and thy hand, with no regard Of highest favours past From thee on them, or them to thee of service. To life obscur'd, which were a fair dismission, Unseemly falls in human eye, Too grievous for the trespass or omission; Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword Of Heathen and profane, their carcasses To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captív'd; Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down, In crude old age : Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering 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 his state calamitous, and turn His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. But who is this, what thing of sea or land? Female of sex it seems, That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for the isles Of Javan or Gadire With all her bravery on, aud tackle trim, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, Her harbinger, a damsel train behind; Samson My Wife! my Traitress: let her not come near me. Chorus. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes thee fix'd, About to have spoke; but now, with head declin'd, Like a fair flower surcharg'd with dew, she weeps. And words address'd seem into tears dissolv'd, Wetting the borders of her silken veil : But now again she makes address to speak. Enter DALILA. Dalila. With doubtful feet and wavering reso lution I come, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, I cannot but acknowledge; yet, if tears My penance hath not slacken'd, though my pardon To lighten what thou suffer'st, and appease Samson. Out, out, Hyæna! these are thy wonted arts, And arts of every woman false like thee, Her husband, how far urg'd his patience bears, With goodness principled not to reject Are drawn to wear out miserable days, Dalila. Yet hear me, Samson; not that I en- To lessen or extenuate my offence, The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. Of secrets, then with like infirmity To publish them, both common female faults: Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety? But I to enemies reveal'd, 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, |