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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• Memorials of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 I. Departure From The Vale Of Grasmere, August 1803 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Matthew by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Maternal Grief by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lucy by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lucy Gray [or Solitude] by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Louisa: After Accompanying Her On A Mountain Excursion by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Look Now On That Adventurer Who Hath Paid by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• London, 1802 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem “The Excursion,” by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written In Early Spring by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines On The Expected Invasion, 1803 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Left Upon The Seat Of A Yew-Tree, by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Laodamia by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It Is a Beauteous Evening by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

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