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Samfon Agonistes.

Samf.

Little onward lend thy guiding hand
To thefe dark steps, a little farther on;
For yonder bank hath choice of Sun
or fhade:

There I am wont to fit, when any
chance

Relieves me from my task of fervile toil
Daily in the common Frifon elfe enjoin'd me;
Where I a Pris'ner chain'd, fcarce freely draw
The Air imprifon'd also, close and damp,
Unwhole fome draught: but here I feel amends,

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The breath of Heav'n fresh blowing, pure and fweet, 10
With day-fpring born; here leave me to refpire.
This day a folemn Feaft the people hold

To Dagon their Sea-Idol, and forbid
Laborious works; unwillingly this rest

Their Superftition yields me: hence with leave

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Retiring from the pop'lar noife, I feek

This unfrequented Place to find fome eafe,
Eafe to the body fome, none to the mind
From reftlefs thoughts, that like a deadly fwarm
Of hornets arm'd, no fooner found alone,
But rufh, upon me thronging, and prefent

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Times paft, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from Heav'n foretold
Twice by an Angel; who at laft in fight
Of both my Parents all in flames afcended
From off the Altar, where an Off'ring burn'd,

As in a fiery column charioting

His God-like presence, and from some great act
Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?

As of a perfon separate to God,

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Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd,

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Defign'd for great exploits; if I must die

Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my Eyes put out,

Made of my Enemies the fcorn and gaze;

To grind in brazen fetters under task,

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With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious ftrength

Put to the labour of a beaft, debas'd

Lower than bondflave! Promife was that I

Should Ifrael from Philiftian yoke deliver;

Afk for this great deliv'rer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with flaves,
Himself in bonds under Philiftian yoke.
Yet stay, let me not rafhly call in doubt
Divine Prediction: what if all foretold

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Had been fulfill'd but thro' mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but my self;

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Who this high gift of ftrength committed to me,

In what part lodg'd, how eafily bereft me,
Under the Seal of filence could not keep,
But weakly to a Woman muft reveal it,
O'ercome with importunity and tears?
O impotence of mind, in body strong!
But what is ftrength without a double fhare
Of wisdom? vaft, unwieldy, burthenfome,
Proudly fecure, yet liable to fall

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By weakeft fubtleties, not made to rule,

But to fubferve where wifdom bears command.

God, when he gave me ftrength, to fhew withal
How flight the gift was, hung it in my Hair.

But

But Peace, I muft not quarrel with the will
Of highest difpenfation, which herein.
Haply had ends above my reach to know:
Suffices that to me ftrength is my bane,
And proves the fource of all my miseries?
So many, and fo huge, that each apart
Would ask a life to wail; but chief of all,
O lofs of fight, of thee I moft complain!
Blind among Enemies! O worse than chains,
Dungeon, or beggary, decrepit Age!

Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct,
And all her various objects of delight

Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd,
Inferior to the vileft now become

Of man or worm; the vileft here excel me:

They creep, yet fee; I dark in light expos'd
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong,
Within doors, or without, ftill as a fool,
In pow'r of others, never in my own;

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Scarce half I feem to live, dead more than half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecov'rably dark, total Eclipfe
Without all hope of day!

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O first created Beam, and thou great Word,
Let there be light, and light was over all;
Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree ?
The Sun to me is dark,

And filent as the moon,

When the deferts the night,

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

Since Light fo necessary is to life,

And almost life itfelf, if it be true

That light is in the Soul,

She all in ev'ry part; why was the fight
To fuch a tender ball as tn'eye confin'd,
So obvious and fo eafie to be quench'd;
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffus'd,
That he might look at will through ev'ry pore?

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Then had I not been thus exil'd from light,
As in the land of darkness yet in light;
To live a life half dead, a living death,
And bury'd; but O yet more miferable!
My felf, my Sepulchre, a moving Grave!
Bury'd, yet not exempt

By privilege of death and burial

From worlt of other evils, pains and wrongs,
But made hereby obnoxious more

To all the miseries of Life,

Life in captivity

Among inhumane foes.

But who are these? for with joint pace I hear
The tread of many feet steering this way;
Perhaps my enemies who come to stare
At my affliction, and perhaps t' infult;
Their daily practice to afflict me more.

Chor. This, this is he; foftly a while,
Let us not break in

upon

him.

O change beyond report, thought or belief! See how he lies at random, carelefly diffus'd, 'With languish'd head unpropt,

As one paft hope, abandon'd,

And by himself given over;

In flavish habit, ill-fitted weeds
-O'er-worn and foil'd:

Or do my eyes mifreprefent? Can this be he,
That Heroick, that Renown'd,

Irrefiftible Samfon; whom unarm'd

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No ftrength of man, or fiercest wild beaft could with

Who tore the Lion, as the Lion tears the Kid,

Ran on imbattl'd Armies clad in Iron,

And weaponlefs himself,

Made Arms ridiculous, ufelefs the forgery

Of brazen Shield and Spear, the hammer'd Cuirass,
Chalybean temper'd fleel, and frock of mail

Adamantean Proof?

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But

But fafelt he who stood aloof,

When infupportably his foot advanc'd,

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In fcorn of their proud arms and warlike tools,
Spurn'd them to death by Troops. The bold Afcalonite
Fled from his Lion ramp, old warriors turn'd
Their plated backs under his heel;

Or grov'ling foil'd their crefted helmets in the duft.
Then with what trivial weapon came to hand,
The Jaw of a dead Ass, his sword of bone,

A thoufand fore-skins fell, the flow'r of Paleftin,

In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day:

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Then by main force pull'd up, and on his fhoulders bore

The Gates of Azza, Poft and maffie Bar,

Up to the Hill by Hebron, feat of Giants old,

No journey of a Sabbath-day, and loaded fo;

Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heav'n.
Which fhall I first bewail,

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Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!)

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The Dungeon of thyfelf; thy Soul

(Which Men enjoying fight oft without caufe complain'd)

Imprifon'd now indeed,

In real darkness of the body dwells,

from outward light

Shut up

T'incorporate with gloomy night;

For inward light, alas!

Puts forth no visual beam.

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O mirror of our fickle state,

Since man on earth unparallel'd!

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The rarer thy example stands,

By how much from the top of wond'rous glory,

Strongest of mortal men,

To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fall'n.

For him I reckon not in high estate,

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Whom long descent of birth,

Or the fphere of fortune raises;

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But

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