_Michal._ And loving? Oh, I will-- Now that I know what should be done. Be sure!
_David._ You mean ... that Saul----? You would not, no!
(_A hand is seen at the door._ AHINOAM _enters._)
_Ahinoam._ David, the king ... But what is this?
_David._ Life that ever strings Our hearts, so pitifully prone for it, To ecstasy--then snaps.
_David._ Then gracious be, and question here no more, Where words are futile for an utterance. But of the king--the king----?
_Ahinoam._ He's driven still. And hither comes again, and must be calmed. The harp take you, and winds of beauty bring, And consolation, as of valley eves When there is ebb of sorrow and of toil. Oh, could you heal him and for ever heal!
(_Breaks off with great desire. Takes the harp and seats himself._)
(_A strain of wild sadness brings_ SAUL, _and many, within. He pauses, his hand to his brow, enspelled of the playing; then slowly goes up the daïs._)
_Ahinoam._ My lord, shall David sing--to ease us?
_David_ (_with high sorrow_). O heart of woe, Heart of unrest and broken as a reed! (_Plays._) O heart whose flow Is anguish and all bitterness of need! (_Plays._) O heart as a roe, Heart as a hind upon the mountain fleeing The arrow-wounds of being, Be still, O heart, and rest and do not bleed!
O days of life, Days that are driven swift and wild from the womb! (_Plays._) O days so rife-- Days that are torn of trouble, trod of doom!
O days of strife-- Days of desire on deserts spread unending, The burning blue o'erbending, O days, our peace, our victory is the tomb!
(_He plays to a close that dies in anguished silence._)
_Saul._ Thy song is beauteous! Stilling to sorrow!... Oh, my friend, my son!
_David._ To me is this? I do not dream? The king Again is kind and soft his spirit moves?
_David._ How shelter o'er me then will spring And safety covering!
_Saul._ It ever shall. Loveliest have you been among my days, And singing weary madness from my brain.
_Michal._ No! but he Is jeopardy and fate about you! drive Him from you utterly and now away!
_David._ But shall be; for to tell Would rend silence for ever from you--pale Your flesh with haunting of it evermore! All, all your being would become a hiss, A memory of syllables that sear, A living iteration of remorse. I--I myself will save your lips the words Of this betrayal leaping from your heart.