After Saul and Jonathan were killed in battle with the Philistines, David returned from defeating the Amalekites and getting all his family and belongings back, and for two days he rested in his home at Ziklag. Then on the third day, a man came from Saul’s camp in mourning, with his clothes torn and dirt on his head. And when he reached David, he fell to the ground face-down before him. And David said,

“What brings you here mate?”

“I’ve just escaped from the camp of Yisharal.”

“What happened, what’s the buzz?”

“The Yisharalites have fled the battlefield, leaving many of their brothers behind dead. And Saul and his son Jonathan are dead.”

Then David pressed the young soldier for more details: “How do you know for sure that Saul and Jonathan are dead?”

“Because I was on Mount Gilboa during the attack, and I saw Saul leaning against his spear as the chariots and soldiers approached. He looked around and saw me, and he called to me. I told him, “I'm here, my Master.” He asked who I was, and I told him I’m an Amalekite.

Then he said, “Come here and kill me because I’m suffering but still alive.” So I did what he asked, because I knew he would not live after he’d fallen. I took the crown from his head and his gold armlets and brought them here to you my Master, for you are the next King.

And when David heard these words, he tore his clothing in grief; and all the men with him did the same. Then they mourned and cried all day, fasting until evening in honour of Saul and Jonathan and the army of the Alahim of Yisharal, because they were cut down by the sword of the enemy. And David asked the young man, “Where’s your home?”

“My father is an Amalekite, but we live in Yisharal.”

“Weren’t you even afraid to kill Yahuah’s chosen King? I mean you're a foreigner and you think you have the right to spill the blood of a Yisharalite? And then you even told me what you did! Saul's blood is on your hands mate. It’s your own fault that you’re about to die!”

Then David told one of his soldiers, “Come here and kill this man!” The tricky Amalekite thought that by stripping the King and being the one to bring David the aparant “good news” (that Saul was dead and David could now be King) and by claiming that it was he who had `relunctantly' granted Saul the merciful death blow, he would obtain a reward and possibly become part of David’s inner circle. This man was merely the first to stumble across Saul’s body and was an opportunist, but his ruse backfired, and David wasn't impressed.

Although Saul sought David’s death on many occasions, and although David cannot act as King until Saul dies, David executes the Amalekite mercenary who has the insolence (aparantly) to strike down Yahuah’s rightly-anointed king for his disrespect to the position. And demonstrating his respect for Saul, David then composes one of the most beautiful expressions of grief in the Scripture, a song of loss and sadness to relay the nation’s sense of sorrow, and his own.

The splendour of Yisharal lies dead upon your high places.
 O’ how the mighty have fallen! Don’t speak of this in the city of Gath, don’t proclaim it in the streets of Ashkelon,
 don’t give those dirty uncircumcised daughters of the Philistines another excuse for drunken celebration. Mountains of Gilboa, don’t let the rain or dew water you, may your mountain fields offer only dust.
 The shield of the mighty Saul was defiled with your enemy’s blood, and is no longer anointed with oil of the eternal Yahuah. With the blood of the slain and with the fat of the strong, Jonathan’s bow never lost aim. Saul’s sword never came back empty. Saul and Jonathan were beloved and delightful, always together in life and now in death. They were faster than eagles and mightier than lions. O’ daughters of Yisharal, cry out for Saul, who clothed you in luxurious crimson, who adorned your garments with ornaments of gold. O’ how the mighty have fallen in the height of the battle! Jonathan lies dead upon your high places. I agonise over you, my brother Jonathan, for I’ve delighted in you, and your love for me was wonderful, beyond even the love of women. O’ how the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war lie perished!