Part 5 (1/2)

”It was as when, some wintry day, to men Jove would, in might, his sharp artillery show; He wills his winds to sleep, and over plain And mountains pours, in countless flakes, his snow, Deep it conceals the rocky cliffs and hills, Then covers all the blooming meadows o'er, All the rich monuments of mortals' skill, All ports and rocks that break the ocean-sh.o.r.e Rock, haven, plain, are buried by its fall; But the near wave, unchanging, drinks it all.

So while these stony tempests veil the skies, While this on Greeks, and that on Trojans flies, The walls unchanged above the clamor rise.”[B]

The men looked round upon David, whose expression, as he returned the glance, showed that he had enjoyed the fragment as well as they. But when they still looked expectant, he did not decline the unspoken invitation; but, taking Homer's harp, sang, as if the words were familiar to him:--

”He giveth snow like wool; He scattereth the h.o.a.r-frost like ashes; He casteth forth his ice like morsels; Who can stand before his cold?

He sendeth forth his word, and melteth them; He causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.”

”Always this '_He_,'” said one of the young soldiers to another.

”Yes,” he replied; ”and it was so in the beginning of the evening, when we were above there.”

”There is a strange difference between the two men, though the one plays as well as the other, and the Greek speaks with quite as little foreign accent as the Jew, and their subjects are the same.”

”Yes,” said the young Philistine harper; ”if the Greek should sing one of the Hebrew's songs, you would know he had borrowed it, in a moment.”

”And so, if it were the other way.”

”Of course,” said their old captain, joining in this conversation.

”Homer, if you call him so, sings the thing made: David sings the maker.

Or, rather, Homer thinks of the thing made: David thinks of the maker, whatever they sing.”

”I was going to say that Homer would sing of cities; and David, of the life in them.”

”It is not what they say so much, as the way they look at it. The Greek sees the outside,--the beauty of the thing; the Hebrew--”

”Hus.h.!.+”

For David and his new friend had been talking too. Homer had told him of the storm at sea they met a few days before; and David, I think, had spoken of a mountain-tornado, as he met it years before. In the excitement of his narrative he struck the harp, which was still in his hand, and sung:--

”Then the earth shook and trembled, The foundations of the hills moved and were shaken, Because He was wroth; There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, And fire out of his mouth devoured; It burned with living coal.

He bowed the heavens also, and came down, And darkness was under his feet; He rode upon a cherub and did fly, Yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his resting-place, His pavilion were dark waters and clouds of the skies; At the brightness before him his clouds pa.s.sed by, Hail-stones and coals of fire.

The Lord also thundered in the heavens, And the highest gave his voice; Hail-stones and coals of fire.

Yea, he sent out his arrows, and scattered them, And he shot out his lightnings, and discomfited them.

Then the channels of waters were seen, And the foundations of the world were made known, At thy rebuke, O Lord!

At the blast of the breath of thy nostrils.

He sent from above, he took me, He drew me out of many waters.”

”Mine were but a few verses,” said Homer. ”I am more than repaid by yours. Imagine Neptune, our sea-G.o.d, looking on a battle:--

”There he sat high, retired from the seas; There looked with pity on his Grecians beaten; There burned with rage at the G.o.d-king who slew them.

Then he rushed forward from the rugged mountains, Quickly descending; He bent the forests also as he came down, And the high cliffs shook under his feet.

Three times he trod upon them, And with his fourth step reached the home he sought for.

”There was his palace, in the deep waters of the seas, s.h.i.+ning with gold, and builded forever.

There he yoked him his swift-footed horses; Their hoofs are brazen, and their manes are golden.