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George Gordon Byron - Saul
Work rating: Low

I.
Thou whose spell can raise the dead, 
Bid the prophet`s form appear. 
"Samuel, raise thy buried head! 
"King, behold the phantom seer!" 
Earth yawn`d; he stood the centre of a cloud: 
Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud. 
Death stood all glassy in the fixed eye: 
His hand was withered, and his veins were dry; 
His foot, in bony whiteness, glitterd there, 
Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare; 
From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame, 
Like cavern`d winds the hollow acccents came. 
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, 
At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke. 

II.
"Why is my sleep disquieted? 
"Who is he that calls the dead? 
"Is it thou, Oh King? Behold 
"Bloodless are these limbs, and cold: 
"Such are mine; and such shall be 
"Thine, to-morrow, when with me: 
"Ere the coming day is done, 
"Such shalt thou be, such thy son. 
"Fare thee well, but for a day, 
"Then we mix our mouldering clay. 
"Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, 
"Pierced by shafts of many a bow; 
"And the falchion by thy side, 
"To thy heart, thy hand shall guide: 
"Crownless, breathless, headless fall, 
"Son and sire, the house of Saul!"
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