Classic Poem

While gloomy Horror vails the guilty Place,
And conscious Dread appears on ev'ry Face;
While smoaking Incense moves the Shades below,
And the pale Sorc'ress bodes impending Woe;
To Saul , of Heav'n forsaken for his Crimes,
In lawless Ways exploring future Times,
See the dead Prophets rev'rend Form ascend!
This Burst of Thunder destin'd where to spend.

Why dost thou, Wretch, disturb my awful Ghost,
To hear of Sceptre, Life, and Children lost?
To-morrow's Sun shall see, by Fate divine,
The Kingdom David's , and Destruction thine !