| |
| YET once an earlier David took | |
| Smooth pebbles from the brook: | |
| Out between the lines he went | |
| To that one-sided tournament, | |
| A shepherd boy who stood out fine | 5 |
| And young to fight a Philistine | |
| Clad all in brazen mail. He swears | |
| That he’s killed lions, he’s killed bears, | |
| And those that scorn the God of Zion | |
| Shall perish so like bear or lion. | 10 |
| But … the historian of that fight | |
| Had not the heart to tell it right. | |
| |
| Striding within javelin range, | |
| Goliath marvels at this strange | |
| Goodly-faced boy so proud of strength. | 15 |
| David’s clear eye measures the length; | |
| With hand thrust back, he cramps one knee, | |
| Poises a moment thoughtfully, | |
| And hurls with a long vengeful swing. | |
| The pebble, humming from the sling | 20 |
| Like a wild bee, flies a sure line | |
| For the forehead of the Philistine; | |
| Then … but there comes a brazen clink, | |
| And quicker than a man can think | |
| Goliath’s shield parries each cast. | 25 |
| Clang! clang! and clang! was David’s last. | |
| Scorn blazes in the Giant’s eye, | |
| Towering unhurt six cubits high. | |
| Says foolish David, “Damn your shield! | |
| And damn my sling! but I’ll not yield.” | 30 |
| He takes his staff of Mamre oak, | |
| A knotted shepherd-staff that’s broke | |
| The skull of many a wolf and fox | |
| Come filching lambs from Jesse’s flocks. | |
| Loud laughs Goliath, and that laugh | 35 |
| Can scatter chariots like blown chaff | |
| To rout; but David, calm and brave, | |
| Holds his ground, for God will save. | |
| Steel crosses wood, a flash, and oh! | |
| Shame for beauty’s overthrow! | 40 |
| (God’s eyes are dim, His ears are shut.) | |
| One cruel backhand sabre-cut— | |
| “I’m hit! I’m killed!” young David cries, | |
| Throws blindly forward, chokes … and dies. | |
| And look, spike-helmeted, grey, grim, | 45 |
| Goliath straddles over him. | |
| |
