Classic Poem

A DULLAM'S sheltering cavern bent
O'er many an exile's head,
Who from the tyrant sway of Saul
In discontent had fled;
And he, the leader of that band,
Came forth in sadden'd thought,
And to a foreign monarch's court
His suit a suppliant brought:

" Oh, King of Moab! " bowing down
With trembling lip he said
Who oft to victory's crimson field
Had Israel's thousands led,
" I pray thee, let mine aged sire,
And she beside whose knee
My earliest, lisping prayer was learn'd,
In safety dwell with thee.

" Lest, while the adverse torrent's force
With struggling breast I stem,
My hands grow weak, my spirits faint,
In anxious care for them;
For with an outlaw's ceaseless pain,
I wander to and fro,
And wait Jehovah's righteous will
More perfectly to know. "

Then forth to Moab's pitying prince
His aged sire he led,
The cavern dampness on the locks
That silver'd o'er his head;
And, leaning on his vigorous arm,
A wrinkled woman came,
The mother of the many sons
Who honour'd Jesse's name.

The youngest and the dearest one
Now woke her parting tear,
And sorrow shook his manly breast
That ne'er had quail'd with fear;
While, drawing near the monarch's side,
In low and earnest tone
He press'd upon his soften'd heart
The treasures of his own.

Low kneeling at his parent's side,
That blessing he besought,
Which ever in his childish years
Had calm'd each troubled thought;
While they with fond and feeble hand
His clustering curls among,
Jehovah's majesty and might
Invoked with faltering tongue.

With tearful thanks to Moab's king,
The exile left the place,
For filial duty well discharged
Shed sunshine o'er his face;
And sweet as when on Bethlehem's vales
He fed his fleecy flock,
The dew of holy song distill'd
Like honey from the rock.

" God is my light! Why should I fear,
Though earth be dark with shade?
God is the portion of my soul,
Why should I be afraid?
Unless his arm had been my stay
When snares were round me spread,
My strength had fainted and gone down
To silence and the dead.

" Father and mother, dear and true
The homeless one forsake,
While like the hunted deer, my course
From cliff to cliff I take.
Though kings against my life conspire,
And hosts in hate array'd,
God is the portion of my soul;
Why should I be afraid? "