"As for Herod, he had spent vast sums about the
cities, both without and within his own kingdom:
and as he had before heard that Hyrcanus, who had
been king before him, had opened David's
sepulchre, and taken out of it three thousand
talents of silver, and that there was a greater
number left behind, and indeed enough to suffice
all his wants, he had a great while an intention
to make the attempt; and at this time he opened
that sepulchre by night and went into it, and
endeavoured that it should not be at all known in
the city, but he took only his most faithful
friends with him. As for any money, he found
none, as Hyrcanus had done, but that furniture of
gold, and those precious goods that were laid up
there, all which he took away. However, he had a
great desire to make diligent search, and to go
farther in, even as far as the very bodies of
David and Solomon; where two of his guards were
slain by a flame that burst out upon those that
went in, as the report was. So he was severely
affrighted, and went out and built a propitiatory
monument of that fright he had been in, and this
of white stone, at the mouth of the sepulchre,
and that at a great expense also."--_Josephus._
High on his throne of state,
A form of noblest mould,
The Hebrew monarch sate,
All glorious to behold.
With purest gold inwrought,
Full many a sparkling gem,
From distant India brought,
Enriched his diadem.
A crystal mirror bright,
Beneath the canopy,
Shot back in silvery light
The monarch's panoply!
All round the lofty halls,
Rich tapestries of gold
Hung from the glittering walls,
In many an ample fold.
And breathing sculptures there
In living beauty stood,
Borne by the monarch's care
From o'er the Ægean flood.
Dipt in the rainbow's dyes,
Apelles's magic hand,
To please the wondering eyes
Of Judah's haughty land,
In liquid colours bright,
And traced with matchless care,
Had left, in glorious light,
Its richest beauties there!
The silver lamps by day,
Hung massive, rich, and bright;
And from the galleries gay
Shone brilliantly by night.
And by the monarch's side,
His guards, a noble band,
Arrayed in regal pride,
In burnished armour stand.
Proud chiefs and ladies fair,
Swept the broad courts along:--
In pleasures mingled there,--
A gay and gallant throng!
Apollo's tuneful choir,
And Korah's sons of song,
With psaltery, harp, and lyre,
Were mingled in the throng.[O]
And from each trembling string,
Sweet sounds of music stole;
Gentle as Zephyr's wing,
The tuneful numbers roll.
Beyond the portals wide,
Beneath the sylvan bower,
Cool founts, in sparkling pride,
Send forth their silvery shower.
The flowerets gay and wild,
In beauty bloomed not less,
Than erst when Eden smiled,
In pristine loveliness.
And through the gorgeous halls
Rich odours filled the air,
Sweet as the dew that falls
On Araby the fair!
All that could foster pride,
All that could banish care,
Was gathered by his side,
And richly lavished there.
Lost to the splendid show,
The monarch's restless mind
Darkened an anxious brow,
Which furrows deep had lined.
He rose and left the hall,
The night was drear and wild--
Above the embattled wall
Tempestuous clouds were piled.
Deep in the deeper gloom,
He held his sullen way--
To David's hallowed tomb
To where his ashes lay.
The haughty monarch came,--
Earth trembled at his tread--
With sacrilegious aim
To rob the royal dead.
No treasures found he there,
Nor precious gems, nor gold--
The walls were damp and bare--
The region drear and cold.
He cast his anxious eye
Where slept great _David's_ son,
Where _Wisdom's_ ashes lie,
The peerless _Solomon_!
He raised his ruthless arm
Against the low-arched wall--
While wild and dread alarm
Rang through the vaulted hall.
Loud on the monarch's ear
Broke the hoarse thunder's crash--
And blazed around the bier
The vivid lightning's flash.
Death came upon the blast;
As by the lurid light
They saw that he had passed,
And triumphed in his might:
For on the chilly ground,
Inanimate as clay,
The troubled monarch found
His favourite captains lay.
Aghast and pale he fled,--
And shook through every limb--
Cold drops rolled down his head,
Lest death should follow him!
He raised a marble fane
Upon the hallowed spot,
But ne'er, O ne'er again
Could that night be forgot!
And oft in after years
He woke in wild affright,
And wailed, with scalding tears,
The deed of that dread night!