David that both Saul and Jonathan had fallen in battle against the
Philistines at Gilboa.

Jonathan gone from him! Jonathan, his friend, gone beyond his sight for
ever! David refused to believe this until he who brought the sad
tidings had again and again given proof of its truth. Then David gave
way to his grief, and he and all his men who sorrowed with him, wept
and mourned and fasted until evening, for Saul, the king, and for
Jonathan, his son, and David mourned as one who cannot be comforted.

Although David had known only too well the truth about Saul's great
weakness, and had feared him as his most dangerous enemy, still to him
was Saul always the King of Israel, mighty in strength of character,
and in all the pomp and power of a nation's ruler; still the king of a
shepherd boy's dreams and also he was the father of Jonathan, and
because of David's childhood's ideal of Saul, the king, and because of
his great grief for Jonathan his friend, David, who was now the King of
Israel, expressed his true feelings in this wonderful poem in memory of
Saul, and of Jonathan his friend:

The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places
How are the mighty fallen!
Tell it not in Gath
Publish it not in the streets of Askelon,
Lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice
Lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph,
Ye mountains of Gelboa, let there be no dew,
Neither let there be rain upon you!
For there the shield of the mighty was vilely cast away,
The shield of Saul, the anointed of the Lord.
From the blood of the slain,
From the fat of the mighty,
The bow of Jonathan turned not back
And the sword of Saul returned not empty,
Jonathan and Saul
Were lovely and pleasant in their lives
And in their deaths they were not divided;
They were swifter than eagles,
They were stronger than lions,
Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul,
Who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights,
Who put on ornaments of gold on your apparel,
How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle!
O Jonathan, thou wast slain
I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan!
Very pleasant hast thou been unto me,
Thy love to me was wonderful,
Passing the love of women,
How are the mighty fallen,
And the weapons of war perished!

LOUIS SEVENTEENTH:

The Boy King Who Never Reigned

It was the early morning of a