No More Learning

Oh! it continues; the have slain my son.
CHORUS: Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry
From slaughter of one foe could not ascend.

MANOA: Some dismal accident it needs must be.
What shall we do--stay here, or run and see?

CHORUS: Best keep together here, lest, running thither,
We unawares run into danger's mouth.
This evil on the Philistines is fallen:
From whom could else a general cry be heard?

MANOA: A little stay will bring some notice hither.

CHORUS: I see one hither speeding--
An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe.

MESSENGER: O, whither shall I run, or which way fly?
The sight of this so horrid spectacle,
Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold?

MANOA: The accident was loud, and here before thee
With rueful cry; yet what it was we know not.
Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer.

MESSENGER: Gaza yet stands; but all her sons are fallen,
All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen.

MANOA: Sad!
but thou know'st to Israelites not saddest
The desolation of a hostile city.

MESSENGER: Feed on that first; there may in grief be surfeit.

MANOA: Relate by whom.

MESSENGER: By Samson.

MANOA: That still lessens
The sorrow and converts it nigh to joy.

MESSENGER: Ah! Manoa, I refrain too suddenly
To utter what will come at last too soon,
Lest evil tidings, with too rude eruption
Hitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep.

MANOA: Suspense in news is torture; speak them out.

MESSENGER: Then take the worst in brief--Samson is dead.

MANOA: The worst indeed! O, all my hope's defeated
To free him hence! but Death, who sets all free,
Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge.
How died he? --death to life is crown or shame.
All by him fell, thou say'st; by whom fell he?
What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound?