Though of a Faith that propagates in Blood;
Of Passions unforgiving, less withstood

Then let out dull Mistaken Terrour cease,
When even our Comets speak all Health and Peace.

FINIS.

ERRATA.

The Reader is desired to Correct these following Mistakes. Page 1. line 12. for Hold, read Held. p. 4. l. 22. r. Ships; ibid. l. 26. for Kindl’d r. Bank’d; ibid. l. 32. r. the Mighty; ibid. l. 37 for they r. thus; p. 7. l. 18. for poor, r. weak; p. 9. l. 3. & 4. for his r. a; l. 6. for the, r. ye; ibid. l. 20. r. Walls; the Billows pour; p. 12. l. 11. r. lov’d Israel; p. 19. l. 27. for loo r. race p. 22. l. 10. r. Excluding.

errata list as printed

TO THE

READER.

If ever anything, call’d a Poem, deserv’d a severe Reflection, that of Absalom and Achitophel may justly contract it. For tho’ Lines can never be purg’d from the dross and filth they would throw on others (there being no retraction that can expiate the conveying of persons to an unjust and publick reproach); yet the cleansing of their fames from a design’d pollution, may well become a more ingenious Pen than the Author of these few reflections will presume to challenge.

To epitomize which scandalous Phamphlet (unworthy the denomination of Poesy) no eye can inspect it without a prodigious amazement; the abuses being so gross and deliberate, that it seems rather a Capital or National Libel, than personal exposures, in order to an infamous detraction. For how does he character the King, but as a broad figure of scandalous inclinations, or contriv’d unto such irregularities, as renders him rather the property of Parasites and Vice, than suitable to the accomplishment of so excellent a Prince? Nay, he forces on King David such a Royal resemblance, that he darkens 56 his sanctity in spite of illuminations from Holy Writ.

Next (to take as near our King as he could) he calumniates the Duke of Monmouth with that height of impudence, that his Sense is far blacker than his Ink, exposing him to all the censures that a Murderer, a Traytor, or what a Subject of most ambitious evil can possibly comprehend: and it is some wonder, that his Lines also had not hang’d him on a Tree, to make the intended Absalom more compleat.

As to my Lord Shaftsbury (in his collusive Achitophel), what does he other than exceed Malice it self? or that the more prudent deserts of that Peer were to be so impeach’d before hand by his impious Poem, as that he might be granted more emphatically condign of the Hangman’s Ax; And which his Muse does in effect take upon her to hasten.

And if the season be well observ’d, when this Adulterate Poem was spread, it will be found purposely divulg’d near the time when this Lord, with his other Noble Partner, were to be brought to their Tryals. And I suppose this Poet thought himself enough assur’d of their condemnation; at least, that his Genius had not otherwise ventur’d to have trampled on persons of such eminent Abilities, and Interest in the Nation. A consideration, I confess, incited my Pen (its preceding respect being paid to the Duke of Monmouth) to vindicate their Reputations where I thought it due.

57 And some are not a little mistaken in their judgments of persons, if any Kingdom has at this time Two men of their Dignity, of more extraordinary Understandings: Which may (if well consider’d) be some inducement to their future preservation and esteem. As I have endeavour’d chiefly to clear their abuse, so I have pass’d divers considerable persons, under as malign inclinations of this Author’s; conceiving, that what I have said for the Principals, may remove such smaller prejudices as are on the value of others on the same concern.

His most select and pecuniary Favourites, I have but barely touch’d, in respect his praise includes a concomitant reprehension, if well apprehended. Besides, I was unwilling to discourage any, that for the future may desire to be admir’d by him according to their liberality. A method, that perhaps may in time set up some Merchants of Parnassus, where the Indies of Fame seem lately discover’d, and may be purchas’d per Centum, according to modern example.

As to the Character of Amiel, I confess my Lines are something pointed, the one reason being, that it alludes much to a manner of expression of this Writer’s, as may be seen by the marginal Notes; and a second will be soon allowed. The figure of Amiel has been so squeez’d into Paint, that his soul is seen in spite of the Varnish.

And none will deny, but it is as easie to send Truth backward, as it is to spur Falsities egregiously forward, and might have caus’d any Asse, as knowing as Balaam’s, to have rebuk’d such a Poet as will needs 58 prophecy against the sense of Heaven and Men. But I have enough of this Amiell, as well as of his Muse, unless that by his means it occasions a further account. And for what is mine here, It will at worst contract censure, in respect it is a brief reflection on a very large Libel. And tho’ I believe it did not cost (tho’ that be not offer’d for an excuse) the tenth part of the time of the other. As to my Preface, I was willing that he should find, that this smaller work has some Nose.—Tho’ I am no more bound to have my Face known by it, than he is willing to obscure his by a Nameless Preamble.

Poetical Reflections

ON A LATE

POEM

CALLED,

Absalom and Achitophel.

When late Protectorship was Canon-Proof,
And Cap-a-pe had seiz’d on Whitehall-Roof,
And next, on Israelites durst look so big,
That Tory-like, it lov’d not much the Whigg:
A Poet there starts up, of wondrous Fame;
Whether Scribe or Pharisee, his Race doth name,
Or more t’intrigue the Metaphor of Man,
A Committee-Man. Got on a Muse by Father-Publican:
For ’tis not harder much, if we tax Nature,
That Lines should give a Poet such a Feature;
Sir Denzill Hollis seeks annum mirabilis. Than that his Verse a Hero should us show,
Produc’d by such a Feat, as famous too.
His Mingle such, what Man presumes to think,
But he can Figures daub with Pen and Ink.
A Grace our mighty Nimrod late beheld,
60 When he within the Royal Palace dwell’d,
And saw ’twas of import if Lines could bring
See his Poem on Cromwel. His Greatness from Usurper, to be King:
Or varnish so his Praise, that little odds
Should seem ’twixt him, and such called Earthly Gods.
And tho no Wit can Royal Blood infuse,
No more than melt a Mother to a Muse:
Yet much a certain Poet undertook,
That Men and Manners deals in without-Book.
And might not more to Gospel-Truth belong,
Than he (if Christened) does by name of John.
This Poet, who that time much squanderd thought,
Of which some might bring Coyn, whilst some none brought,
As Men that hold their Brains of powerful sense,
Will least on Poet’s Tales bestow their pence,
Tho he such Dispensations to endear,
Had notch’d his Sconce just level with his Ear.
An Emblem in these days of much import,
When Crop-ear’d Wits had such a Modish Court.
Tho some from after-deeds much fear the Fate,
That such a Muse may for its Lugs create.
As Stars may without Pillories dispence,
To slit some Ears for Forgeries of sense,
Which Princes, Nobles, and the Fame of Men,
Sought to bespatter by a worthless Pen.
But leaving this to Circumstances fit,
With what thence spreads this Renegado-wit.

61 To heigten which we’ll to his Muse advance,
Which late discover’d its Judaick Trance:
Where Absalon’s in English Colours di’d,
That in a Duke, a Traitor might be spi’d.
Or Heaven on him did Graces so bestow,
As only could confer their Pageant Show;
Giving his Glories no more fast Renown,
Than with more Honour to be taken down:
Like Victimes by some Sacrificers drest,
Must fall adorn’d, which then they pity least.
But fear not Monmouth, if a Libel’s quill,
Would dregs of Venom on thy Vertue spill;
Since no desert so smoothly is convey’d,
As next it’s Fame, no canker’d Patch is laid;
Thou didst no Honour seek, but what’s thy due,
And such Heaven bids thee not relinquish too.
Whilst it’s Impressions so oblig’d thy Task,
As leave from Earth thy Soul declin’d to ask.
If this thy Error were, what Influ’nce can
Excuse the Duty of more wilfull Man;
With such whose Figures shew that squinting Paint,
Whence peeps a Mungril Babylonish Saint.
Thy Soul’s Religion’s Prop, and Native Grace,
Rome, (fears its onsets) looking on the place;
What Altitude can more exalt thy Praise,
Tho best Devotion should thy Trophies raise,
And ’tis perhaps from thy Diviner Bliss,
That some may fear their Souls are seen amiss.
As what so high does Emulation mount,
As Greatness when surpass’d on Heaven’s Account;
62 And if th’ Ambition would in this excel,
’Twas but to be more great in doing well;
And must rebate the worst that Fates intend,
Whilst Heaven and England is at once thy Friend.
This just Encomium, tho too brief it be
To represent thy least Epitome;
And but unto thy larger Figure joyn’d,
As small proportions are from great design’d;
Tho where a line one worth of thine can speak,
It does alone, a Poem’s Greatness make;
Leaving this Hero to his spotless Fame,
(As who besides this Wretch will it blaspheme)
Or in a Libels Allegorick Way,
Men falsely figur’d, to the world convey,
Libels the enormous Forgery of sense,
Stamp’d on the brow of human Impudence;
The blackest wound of Merit, and the Dart,
That secret Envy points against Desert.
The lust of Hatred pander’d to the Eye
T’allure the World’s debauching by a Lie.
Th’rancrous Favourite’s masquerading Guilt,
Imbitt’ring venom where he’d have it spilt.
The Courts depression in a fulsom Praise;
A Test it’s Ignoramus worst conveys,
A lump of Falshood’s Malice does disperse,
Or Toad when crawling on the Feet of Verse.
Fame’s impious Hireling and mean Reward,
The Knave that in his Lines turns up his Card,
Who, tho no Rabby, thought in Hebrew wit,
He forc’d Allusions can closly fit.
63 To Jews or English, much unknown before,
He made a Talmud on his Muses score;
Though hop’d few Criticks will its Genius carp,
So purely Metaphors King David’s Harp,
And by a soft Encomium, near at hand,
Shews Bathsheba Embrac’d throughout the Land.
But this Judaick Paraphrastick Sport
We’ll leave unto the ridling Smile of Court.
Good Heav’n! What timeful Pains can Rhymers take,
When they’d for Crowds of Men much Pen-plot make?
Which long-Beak’d Tales and filch’d Allusions brings,
As much like Truth, as ’tis the Woodcock sings.
What else could move this Poet to purloin
So many Jews, to please the English Swine?
Or was it that his Brains might next dispense
To adapt himself a Royal Evidence?
Or that he’d find for Dugdale’s Wash some Spell,
In stead of once more dipp’d in Winifred’s Well;
And ope his Budget, like Pandora’s Box,
Whence Overt-acts more Protestants should Pox,
Which might the Joyner’s Ghost provoke to rise,
And fright such Tales with other Popish Lies?
But Starr’s or Ignoramus’s may not give
Those Swearers longer swinge by Oaths to live.
A Providence much English Good protects,
And sends Testees to Trade for new Effects;
Which none of the Long-Robe, ’tis hop’d, can aid,
So well by Oaths the Devil’s already paid;
64 And most suppose, if e’re both Plots can die,
Or eat up one anothers Perjury,
’Twou’d Pluto strangely pose to find a Third,
Sould he in his a Popish Legion Lard.
A Policy some Poems much embrace,
As is discern’d in Shaftsbury’s Great Case;
Where Verse so vile an Obloquy betray,
As for a Statist-Jew they’d him convey.
Tho hard it is to understand what Spell
Can conjure up in him Achitophel,
Or tax this Peer with an Abused Sense
Of his so deep and apt Intelligence:
A Promptitude by which the Nation’s shown
To be in Thought concurrent with his own.
Shaftsbury! A Soul that Nature did impart
To raise her Wonder in a Brain and Heart;
Or that in him produc’d, the World might know,
She others did with drooping Thought bestow.
As in Mans most perspicuous Soul, we find
The nearest Draught of her Internal Mind,
Tho it appears her highest Act of State,
When Human Conducts she does most compleat,
And place them so, for Mankinds good, that they
Are fit to Guide, where others miss their Way;
It being in Worldly Politiques less Great
To be a Law-maker, than Preserve a State.
In Publick Dangers Laws are unsecure,
As strongest Anchors can’t all Winds endure;
Though ’tis in Exigents the wisest Ease
To know who best can ply when Storms encrease;
Whilst other Prospects, by mistaking Fate,
Through wrong Preventions, more its Bad dilate.
65 Whence some their Counter-Politicks extend,
To ruine such can Evils best amend.
A Thwarting Genius, which our Nation more
Than all its head-strong Evils does deplore;
And shews what violent Movements such inform,
That where a Calm should be, they force a Storm;
As if their Safety chiefly they must prize
In being rid of Men esteem’d more Wise.
To this Great, Little Man, we’ll T’other joyn,
Held Sufferers by one Tripartite Design.
As from a Cubick Power, or Three-fold Might,
Roots much expand, as Authors prove aright;
But of such Managements we’ll little say,
Or shamm’d Intrigues, for Fame left to convey;
Which may by peeping through a Gown-mans Sleeve,
Tell such grave Tales, Men cannot well believe:
With what for Plots and Trials has been done,
As Whores depos’d, before away they run;
All which was well discern’d by numerous Sense,
Before the Doctors py’d Intelligence,
Who, with some Motley Lawyers, took much care
To gain the Caput of this Knowing Peer;
When after so much Noise, and nothing prov’d,
Heaven thank’d, to Freedom he’s at last remov’d,
Leaving a Low-Bridge Cerberus to try
In what Clerks Pate his monstrous Fee does lie;
Or by the help of Tory-Roger tell
How Sacred Gain-Prerogativ’d should spell.
But these are Thoughts may fit some Pensive Skulls,
Or Men concern’d to bait their several Bulls;
66 Whilst on this Peer we must some Lines bestow,
Tho more he merits than best Verse can show:
Great in his Name, but greater in his Parts,
Judgment sublim’d, with all its strong Deserts;
A Sense above Occasions quick surprize,
That he no Study needs to make him Wise,
Or labour’d Thoughts, that trains of Sinews knit,
His Judgment always twin’d unto his Wit;
That from his clear Discussions Men may know
He does to wonder other Brains out-do.
Whilst they for Notions search they can’t compact,
His Genius fitly stands prepar’d to act.
Admir’d of Man, that in thy Sense alone
So ready dost exalt high Reason’s Throne;
That Men abate Resentments to expect
Thou mayst rise Greater, having past Neglect.
A Sacred Method Kings receive from Heaven,
That still does Cherish, when it has Forgiven;
Which from our Princes Soul so largely flows,
That Mercy’s Channel with his Greatness goes.
No Arbitrary Whispers him can guide
To swell his Rule beyond its genuine Tide:
Whilst other Kings their rugged Scepters see
Eclips’d in his more soft Felicity;
Whose Goodness can all Stress of State remove,
So fitly own’d the Subjects Fear and Love.

Did not this Poet’s Lines upon me call
For some Reflexions on a Lower Fall;
67 Where he by Rhyming, a Judaick Sham,
Obtrudes for Israelites some Seeds of Cham.
And this Inspexion needs no further go
Than where his Pen does most Indulgent show:
And ’tis no wonder if his Types of Sense
Should stroke such Figures as give down their Pence;
A Crime for which some Poets Lines so stretch,
As on themselves they Metaphor Jack Ketch.
Tho small the Varnish is to Humane Name,
Where Cogging Measures rob the truth of Fame.
And more to do his skew’d Encomiums right,
Some Persons speak by him their motly Sight:
Or much like Hudibras, on Wits pretence,
Some Lines for Rhyme, and some to gingle Sense.
Who else would Adriel, Jotham, Hushai, fit,
With loathed Amiell, for a Court of Wit?
For, as Men Squares of Circles hardly find,
Some think these Measures are as odly joyn’d.
What else could Adriell’s sharpness more abuse,
Than headlong dubb’d, to own himself a Muse,
Unless to spread Poetick Honours so
As should a Muse give each St. George’s Show?
A Mode of Glory might Parnassus fit,
Tho our Sage Prince knows few he’d Knight for Wit.
And thus this Freak is left upon the File,
Or as ’tis written in this Poet’s Stile.
Next, as in Course, to Jotham we’ll descend,
Thoughtful it seems which Side he’ll next befriend,
As thinking Brains can caper to and fro,
Before they jump into the Box they’d go.
68 And ’tis a moody Age, as many guess,
When some with busie Fears still forward press;
As ’tis Ambitions oft-deluding Cheat
To tempt Mens aims, secureless of defeat.
Hushai the Compass of th’Exchequer guides,
Propense enough unto the North besides:
As what can steady Stations more allure,
Than such, a Princely Bed does first secure?
Whose Part none are so ignorant to ask,
And does no less employ his Ends and Task.
But quitting these, we must for Prospect pass
To gaping Amiell, as reflects our Glass.
* See his, p. 27. The Him indeed of his own *Western Dome,
So near his praiseful Poet Sense may come:
* See his, p. 28. For *Amiell, Amiell, who cannot endite
Of his Thin Value won’t disdain to write?
The very Him with Gown and Mace did rule
The Sanedrim, when guided by a Fool.
The Him that did both Sense and Reason shift,
That he to gainful Place himself might lift.
The very Him that did adjust the Seed
Of such as did their Votes for Money breed.
The Mighty Him that frothy Notions vents,
In hope to turn them into Presidents.
The Him of Hims, although in Judgment small,
That fain would be the biggest at Whitehall.
The He that does for Justice Coin postpone,
As on Account may be hereafter shown.
If this plain English be, ’tis far from Trick,
Though some Lines gall, where others fawning lick;
Which fits thy Poet, Amiell, for thy Smiles,
If once more paid to blaze thy hated Toils.
69 Of Things and Persons might be added more,
Without Intelligence from Forreign Shore,
Or what Designs Ambassadors contrive,
Or how the Faithless French their Compass guide:
But Lines the busie World too much supply,
Besides th’Effects of evil Poetry,
Which much to Tory-Writers some ascribe,
Though hop’d no Furies of the Whiggish Tribe
Will on their Backs such Lines or Shapes convey,
To burn with Pope, on Great November’s Day.

FINIS.

TO THE

READER.

I Shall not go about, either to excuse, or justifie the Publishing of this Poem; for that would be much more an harder Task than the Writing of it: But however, I shall say, in the words of the Author of the incomparable Absalom and Achitophel, That I am sure the Design is honest. If Wit and Fool be the Consequence of Whig and Tory, no doubt, but Knave and Ass may be Epithets plentifully bestowed upon me by the one party, whilst the other may grant me more favourable ones, than perhaps I do deserve. But as very few are Judges of Wit, so I think, much fewer of honesty; since Interest and Faction on either side, prejudices and blinds the Judgment; and the violence of Passion makes neither discernible in an Adversary. I know not whether my Poem has a Genius to force its way against prejudice: Opinion sways much in the World, and he that has once gained it writes securely. I speak not this any ways to lessen the merits of an Author, whose Wit has deservedly gained the Bays; but in this I have the advantage, since, as I desire not Glory or vain applause, I can securely wrap my self in my own Cloud, and remain unknown, whilest he is exposed through his great Lustre. I shall never envy what I desire not, nor am I altogether so doting, as to believe the Issues of my own Brain to exceed all others, and to be so very fond of them, (as most Authors, especially Poets, are) as to think them without fault, or be so blinded as not to see their blemishes, and that they are excelled by others; yet since Poems are like Children, it may be allowed me to be naturally inclined to have some good Opinion of my own, and not to believe this Poem altogether despicable or ridiculous. The Ancients say, that every thing hath two handles, I have laid hold of that opposite to the Author of Absalom: As to Truth, who has the better hold, let the World judge; and it is no new thing, for the same Persons, to be ill or well 74 represented, by several parties. I hope then, I may be excused as well as another, since I have told my Dreams with the same Liberty, for the fancies of Poets are no more than waking Dreams, and never imposed as dogmatical precepts, which are more agreeable to truth or falshood, or according to the Poets Language, which proceed from the Horny or Ivory Port, will be sentenced according to the Humour and Interest of several Parties who in spite of our Teeth will be our judges. Where I have been satyrical, ’tis without Malice or Revenge; and though I brag not of my Talent therein, I could have said much worse, of some Enemies to our Jewish Heroe. He that will lash others, ought not to be angry if the like be returned to himself: Lex talionis is a general and natural Law. I call not this an Answer to Absalom, I have nothing to do with him, he was a Rebel to his Father; my Azaria a good Son, influenced by a worthy and Loyal Counsellor, and Achitophel and Hushai were men of contrary Opinions, and different Principles: And if Poets (as it is often brought for their excuse, when they vary from known History) ought to represent Persons as they ought to be, I have not transcurred the Precepts of Poetry, and Absalom is not so good a Poem, because his Character is not so agreeable to the virtue of an Heroe, as this of Azaria is: But certainly when Poetry and Truth are joyned together, and that the persons are truly what they are represented, and liv’d their Character, the glory is double, both to the Heroe and the Poet: And I could wish, that the same Hand, that drew the Rebellious Son, with so much Ingenuity and Skill, would out do mine, in shewing the virtues of an obedient Son and loyal Counsellor, since he may have as much Truth for a Foundation to build upon, the Artful Structure of the Heroes Glory, with his own Fame and Immortality.

AZARIA

AND

HUSHAI,

A POEM.

In Impious Times, when Priest-craft was at height,
And all the Deadly Sins esteemed light;
When that Religion only was a Stale,
And some bow’d down to God, and some to Baal;
When Perjury was scarce esteem’d a Sin,
And Vice, like flowing Tides, came rowling in;
When Luxury, Debauch, and Concubine,
The sad Effects of Women and of Wine,
Rag’d in Judea and Jerusalem,
Good Amazia of great David’s Stem,
God-like and great in Peace did rule that Land,
And all the Jews stoop’d to his just Command.
Long now in Sion had he Peace enjoy’d,
After that Civil Broils the Land destroy’d:
Plenty and Peace attended on his Reign,
And Solomon’s Golden days return’d again;
When the Old Canaanites, who there did lurk,
Began to find both God and King new Work:
For Amazia, tho’ he God did love,
Had not cast out Baal’s Priests, and cut down every Grove.
Too oft Religion’s made pretence for Sin,
About it in all Ages Strife has been;
76 But Int’rest, which at bottom doth remain,
Which still converts all Godliness to Gain,
What e’er Pretence is made, is the true Cause,
That moves the Priest, and like the Load-stone draws.
The Canaanites of Old that Land possess’d,
And long therein Idolatry profess’d;
Till Sins of Priests, and of the Common Rout,
Caus’d God and his good Kings to cast them out.
Their Idols were pull’d down, their Groves destroy’d,
Strict Laws against them, and their Worship made.
The Heathen Priests were banish’d from the Land
Of Baal, no Temple suffer’d was to stand;
And all Succeeding Kings made it their Care,
They should no more rear up their Altars there.
If some mild Kings did wink at their Abode,
They to the Jews still prov’d a Pricking-goad:
Growing more bold, they penal Laws defy’d,
And like tormenting Thorns, stuck in their Side.
The busy Priests had lost their gainful Trade,
Revenge and Malice do then Hearts invade;
And since by Force they can’t themselves restore,
Nor gain the Sway they in Judea bore,
With Hell they Joyn their secret Plots to bring
Destruction to Judea and its King.

The Chemerarims, the learnedst Priests, of all
The numerous Swarms which did belong to Baal,
Bred up in subtil Arts, to Jews well known,
And fear’d for Bloody Morals of their own;
Who in the Cause of Baal no one would spare,
But for his sake on all Mankind make War,
Counting it lawful Sacred Kings to smite,
Who favor’d not their God, or was no Baalite,
These were the Idol’s known, and great Support,
Who in Disguise creep into every Court,
Where they soon Faction raise, and by their Arts,
Insinuate into the Princes Hearts:
Wriggle themselves into Intreagues of State,
Sweet Peace destroy, and Bloody Wars create.
77 Unwearied still, they deep Designs pursue;
What can’t a Chemarim, and Belzeebub do?
For cunning Plot, Trepan, for Oaths and Sham,
The Devil must give place to Chemarim.
These subtil Priests, in Habit black and grave;
Each man a Saint in shew, in Heart a Knave,
Did in Judea swarm, grew great withall,
And like th’ Egyptian Frogs to Court they crawl:
Where, like them too, they never are at rest;
But Bed and Board of Kings, with Filth infest.
To every Shape they could themselves transform,
Angels could seem, but still their Aim was Harm.
They all the Sects among the Jews could ape,
And went about disguiss’d in every Shape.
One imitates the Zealous Pharisee,
The Essens this, the dammee Sadduce he;
And such their ready, and their subtil Wit,
For every Trade, and every Science fit:
They Credit got, and stole into the Heart,
And from their God, did many Souls pervert,
Who seeming Jews, or what they were before,
In Secret did the Idol Baal adore;
Whole false Religion was but loose, and few
Could bear the Righteous Strictness of the true.

Thus these Disciples of the hellish Brood,
Disguis’d, among the Jews, themselves intrude,
And with the purer Wheat, their Tares they sow,
Saw their bad Crop near to an Harvest grow,
And hop’d that they again should rule the State:
For e’er the days of good Jehosaphat,
Through all the Land Baal’s Worship was allow’d,
And King and People to gross Idols bow’d.
The Priests, like Bloody Tyrants did command;
They and their Gods, did wholly rule the Land;
And every one who would not bow to Baal,
Fled thence, or else by Fire, or Sword did fall:
But that good King a Reformation made,
Their Idols, and their Groves he quite destroy’d;
In every place their Altars overthrew,
78 And Chemarims he banished or slew.
Since when (except in Athaliah’s Reign,
Who for a space, set Idols up again,
Tormenting those to Death who would not turn,
And did the Jewish Rabbins slay or burn)
These crafty Priests, by Plots did never cease,
To spoil the Beauty of Judea’s Peace.
Whilst Joash reign’d, by sly and subtil Arts,
They first estrang’d from him his Peoples Hearts.
Saw Faction’s Sparks, and unseen blew the Fire,
Till Rebells ’gainst that good King did conspire:
Then Cursed Zabed of proud Ammon’s Line,
And Moabitish Jehozabad joyn,
And to their Side some Pharisees they drew,
(Joash did to their Sect no Favor shew)
And th’ Essens, who then daily numerous grew,
Rebell, and their good King, like Murtherers, slew.
Then Amazia over Jordan fled,
Till God had struck the Tyrant Zabed dead;
When all his Subjects, who his Fate did moan,
With joyful Hearts, restor’d him to his Throne;
Who then his Father’s Murtherers destroy’d,
And a long, happy, peaceful Reign enjoy’d.
Belov’d of all, for merciful was He,
Like God, in the Superlative Degree.
The Jewish Sects he did not seek to quell,
Yet Laws he made they might no more rebell:
Wisely about them made of Laws a Fence,
Yet kind, would not oppress their Conscience.
The Pharisee, a very numerous Sect,
Above the rest were in their Worship strict:
In their own Synagogues he let them pray,
And worship God after their stricter way.
In Peace all liv’d, and former strife forgot,
The Chemarims and Hell had hatch’d a Plot:
A Plot form’d in the deep Abyss below,
Law and Religion both to overthrow.
The King was by their Bloody Swords to fall,
That all Judea might submit to Baal.
79 Great were their Hopes, and deep was their Design.
The Train already laid to spring their Mine;
Not dreaming Heav’n could their Plots betray,
They only waited an auspicious day.
Nor fail’d their Plot for want of Common Sence,
As some endeavor’d to persuade the Prince:
For with much Art, great Industry and Care,
They all things for their black Design prepare.
Not hatch’d by Common Brains, or men of Earth,
Nor was’t the Issue of a suddain Birth;
But long designing, and well laid it seems,
By Baal’s Arch-priests, and subtil Chemarins.
The Canaanites dispersed through the Land,
O’er whom Baal’s Priests had absolute Command,
Were bound with Oaths, the Priests Religious Charms,
To Secresie, and furnished with Arms.
Heads they had got, as well as Hands to fight,
Some zealous Princes of the Canaanites,
Who ready were to guide the Common Rout,
So soon as their Conspiracy broke out.

Thus on a firm Foundation they had wrought
Their great Design, well built to Humane thought:
Tho’ nothing that weak Mortals e’er design’d,
But Folly seems to the Eternal Mind,
Who blasting man’s vain Projects, lets him know,
He sits above, sees and rules all below.
This wicked Plot, the Nations Bain and Curse,
So bad no man can represent it worse:
Want only Amazia to destroy,
But that they might the Rites of Baal enjoy:
For the good Amazia being gone,
They had design’d a Baalite for the Throne.
Of all their Hopes and Plots, here lay the Store:
For what Encouragement could they have more,
When they beheld the King’s own Brother fall,
From his Religion, and to worship Baal?
80 The Priest well knew what Pow’r, and what Controul
He had usurp’d o’re ev’ry Baalite’s Soul,
That such a Prince must their God’s Cause pursue,
And do whatever they would have him do;
Else from his Throne he should be curs’d and damn’d:
For Baal’s High-Priest, a Right t’ all Crowns had claim’d.
An Article ’tis of a Baalite’s Faith,
That o’re Crown’d Heads a Sovereignty he hath.

Thus on a sure Foundation, as they thought,
They had their Structure to Perfection wrought

A Levite, who had Baalite turn’d, and bin
One of the Order of the Chemarim,
Who in the Plot had deeply been concern’d,
And all their horrid Practices had learn’d;
Smote in his Conscience with a true Remorse,
From King and Land diverts the threat’ning Curse.
Libni, I think they call’d the Levite’s Name,
Which in Judea still will be of Fame;
Since following Heaven’s Impulse and high Command,
He prov’d a Glorious Saviour of the Land.
By him the deep Conspiracy’s o’rethrown,
The Treason, and the Traytors all made known:
For which from Baalites he had Curses store;
But by the Jews loaded with Blessings more.
The Hellish Plotters were then seiz’d upon,
And into Goals and Iron Fetters thrown;
From whence to Lawful Tryals they were born,
Condemn’d for Traytors, and hang’d up with Scorn:
Yet Chemarims with matchless Impudence,
With dying Breath avow’d their Innocence:
So careful of their Order they still were,
Lest Treason in them Scandal should appear,
That Treason they with Perjury pursue,
Having their Arch-priest’s Licence so to do.
They fear’d not to go perjur’d to the Grave,
Believing their Arch-priest their Souls could save:
81 For all God’s Power they do on him bestow,
And call him their Almighty God below.
To whom they say three powerful Keys are given,
Of Hell, of Purgatory, and of Heav’n.
No wonder then if Baalites this believe,
They should, with their false Oaths try to deceive,
And gull the People with their Dying Breath,
Denying all their Treason at their Death.
This made Impression on some easie Minds,
Whom or good Nature, or false Pity blinds;
Mov’d their Compassion, and stirr’d up their Grief,
And of their dying Oaths caus’d a Belief.
This did effect what the curs’d Traytors sought,
The Plots Belief into Discredit brought,
Of it at first, some Doubts they only rais’d,
And with their Impudence the World amaz’d:
Tho’ Azyad’s Murder did the Jews convince,
Who was a man most Loyal to his Prince,
And by the Bloody Chemarims did fall,
Because he seiz’d the Trayt’rous Priests of Baal:
Tho’ Gedaliah’s Letters made all plain,
Who was their Scribe, and of a ready Brain:
A Levite’s Son, but turn’d a Baalite,
Who for the King’s own Brother then did write,
And Correspondence kept i’th’ Egyptian Court,
To whom the Traytors for Advice resort;
Who like a zealous, trayt’rous Baalite dy’d,
And at the Fatal Tree the Plot deny’d.
Tho’ Amazia did at first believe,
And to the Hellish Plot did Credit give;
Tho’ the Great Council of the Sanhedrim,
Among the Jews always of great Esteem,
Declar’d to all the World this Plot to be,
An Hellish, and a curs’d Conspiracy,
To kill the King, Religion to o’rethrow,
And cause the Jews their Righteous Laws forgoe;
To make the People to dumb Idols fall,
And in the place of God, to set up Baal:
Tho’ all the People saw it, and believ’d;
Tho’ Courts of Justice, hard to be deceiv’d,
82 Had added to the rest their Evidence,
Yet with a strange unheard of Impudence,

They at the last, their sought for point had got,
And artfully in doubt had brought their Plot.
A thousand cunning Shams and Tricks they us’d,
Whereby the simple Vulgar were abus’d;
And some o’th’ Edomitish Evidence,
Who Mammon worship’d, were brought off with pence.

In Secret, and inglorious did remain,
And the Plot thought the Project of his Brain.

The Baalites thus encourag’d by Success,
Increase their Hopes, and their black Projects bless:
Like the bold Titans, Plot on Plot they lay,
And Heav’n it self with impious Arms essay.
A new Invention wrought in Hell below,
The Jews, and their Religion to o’erthrow;
They bring to light, with this their Hopes they raise,
And for dire Plots, think they deserve the Bays.
This Engine stronger than th’ old Roman Ram
For Battery, by a new name call’d Sham,
With well learn’d, and successful Arts they use
To overthrow the Syn’gogues of the Jews,
Their Worship and Religion to confound.
And lay their Glorious Temple on the Ground.
With this new Engine, they a Breach had made,
By which they hop’d the Loyal Jews t’ invade.
With Troops of Treasons, and Rebellious Plots,
Led on by Villains, perjur’d Rogues and Sots;
And with such Arms, in Hells black Work-house form’d,
The peaceful Jews they violently storm’d;
Who ’gainst the Ba’lites Plots had no defence,
But God, their Laws, and their own Innocence.

83 Among the Princes of the Jewish Race,
For Wisdom, Hushai had the Chiefest Place,
Prudent in Speech, and in his Actions close,
Admir’d by all, and feared by his Foes;
Well skill’d, and knowing in the Jewish Laws,
Able to plead, and to defend a Cause,
Of piercing Judgment, and of pregnant Wit,
Did once Chief Judge of all Judea sit;

Then he descended from the hight of Place,
Without a Blemish, and without Disgrace;
Yet inly griev’d; for he could well divine
The Issue of the Baalites curs’d Design,
To see Religion, and God’s Righteous Cause,
The Ancient Government, the Nation’s Laws,
Unpropping, and all ready strait to fall,
And the whole Race of Jews made Slaves to Baal:
With Zeal inspired, boldly up he ’rose,
To wrestle with the King’s, and Nation’s Foes;
And tho’ he was with Wealth and Honor blest,
He scorn’d to give his Age its needful Rest:
He learn’d, that man was not born for himself,
To get great Titles, Names, or sordid Pelf,
To wear a lazy Life, himself to please,
With Idleness, and with luxurious Ease:
When he beheld his Country in distress,
And none the Danger able to redress,
He did resolve, tho’ not affecting Fame,
Or to obtain a Patriot’s Glorious Name,
His Rest, his Life, his Fortune to expose,
Rather than see his Countrey’s dangerous Foes
Run on uncheck’d, till they had brought the Land,
To their, and to a Baalite King’s Command.
He could not therefore so himself forget,
To see the Barques of Government o’erset;
But with his Skill he help’d the Boat to trim,
And boldly did oppose Eliakim.
84 Eliakim was Brother to the King,
From the same Loins, and Royal Seed did spring;

Sweet Azaria, like the beauteous Morn,
Whence all Sweets flow, did once that Court adorn,
A budding Rose, whose Beauty’s newly blown,
Or like a Cedar on Mount Lebanon:
He in his Father’s Grace, and Favor grew,
And towards him the People’s Eyes he drew.
He was by most belov’d, admir’d by all,
For’s Zeal to God, and’s Hatred unto Baal:
But ah! this mov’d the cursed Baalite’s Hate,
Disturb’d his Peace, and Troubles did create.
What can’t Design and Hellish Malice do?
With Lyes they close this Noble Prince pursue.
They think his Father too indulgent grown,
Whose Love had many Blessings on him thrown,
But what exceeded all the rest beside,
He chose the sweet Jerusha for his Bride:
A Blessing he esteemed far above
The Crown, and all things but his Father’s Love:
For that he still above his Life did prize,
Dear as his Fame, and dearer than his Eyes.
Below his Feet, for that he all things trod,
Adoreing nothing more except his God.
Young as he was, he had acquired Fame,
His Breast infired with a Warlike Flame,
In Foreign Wars, his Courage he had shown,
Had Lawrels won, and brought home fair Renown:
Happy, most happy, till with wondrous Art,
His Foes had wrought him from his Father’s Heart;
And so much Power on Amazia won,
He by Degrees, grew jealous of his Son.
And who for this can Amazia blame,
If that the King the Father overcame?
For Crowns by Kings esteemed are more near,
Than Children, or than Sons, belov’d more dear.
85 His Foes, Baal’s Friends, had laid their artful Snairs,
Hight’ned his Father’s Jealousies and Fears,
And made each innocent Action of the Prince,
To give his Jealous Father an Offence.
If with wise Hushai they the Prince did see,
They call’d their Meeting a Conspiracy,
And cry, that he was going to rebell:
Him Absalom they name, Hushai Achitophel.
With Slander thus the Prince they did pursue,
Aiming at’s Life, and the wise Hushai’s too.
When they much pleased, and triumphing saw,
The King his Royal Favors to withdraw,
Which like a Spring on him before did flow,
And from him, all on others to bestow:
Defenceless left, naked, almost forlorn,
Subject to every trifling Rhimers Scorn,
And beyond Jordan by their malice drove,
No Succor left him but the People’s Love;
(For he was still their Darling and Delight,
Because they saw he was no Baalite,)
Their Hopes now almost at their Height did seem,
To place the Crown upon Eliakim.

The Jews, God’s People and peculiar Care,
For their true Worship still most zealous were;
That Jewel seem’d most pretious in their Eyes,
And it above all Humane things they prize.
No Torments could make them their Faith deny,
They willingly for their Religion die:
Their Liberties were also dear to them,
Sprung from a free, and not a slavish Stem,
Th’ Egyptian Bondage for their Souls unfit,
They never in Judea would permit;
Their own known Laws, they willingly obey,
Hate Tyranny and Arbitrary Sway:
Nor did they many Priviledges want,
Kept from the Time they first the Land did plant;
For which to Death they lawfully would strive,
If injur’d by their King’s Prerogative:
86 For some of them have try’d to break the Bound,
And did like Ethnick Kings, their People’s Freedom wound,
So Rehoboam caus’d them to rebell,
And lost at once ten Tribes of Israel.
No people were more ready to obey
Their Kings, who rul’d them by a gentle Sway,
Who never sought their Consciences to curb,
Their Freedom or Religion to disturb.
To such they always open-hearted were,
For them, they neither Coin, nor Blood would spare.
Such Kings might their Prerogatives improve,
And rule the Jews, ev’n as they pleas’d with Love;

Kings they had try’d of ev’ry sort and size.
Best govern’d by the Warlike and the wise.
Tho’ Kings they lov’d, and for them Reverence had,
They never would adore them as a God.
God’s Worship, and their Laws they did prefer,
They knew, them men might by bad Councils Err.
Tho’ Loyal, yet oppress’d, they did not fear
To make their heavy Grievances appear.
This was indeed the Humor of the Jew,
The People by Complaints their Griefs would shew;
And never would, in truth, contented seem,
Untill redress’d by their wise Sanhedrim.
Thus now the Jews, tho’ free from ill Design,
In their Religious Cause together joyn:
They cast their Eyes on Amazia’s Son,
Who, without Arts the People’s Love had won:
Full of tormenting Jealousies and Fears,
Eliakim a dangerous man appears:
The sober part of the whole Sanhedrim,
Desire to keep Judea’s Crown from him:
For they foresaw if he should wear the Crown,
Baal’s Worship he’d set up, and God’s cast down:
That all the Nations must be Slaves to Baal,
Suffer in Flames, fly, or ’fore Idolls fall.
87 Great were their Fears, but yet they did abhor
The very Thought of a dishonest War:
For they had seen the Kingdom’s many Scarrs,
Th’ unseemly Marks of former Civil Wars.
They Amazia lov’d and wish’d him well,
Resolve to suffer rather than rebell;
Yet openly declare free from all Stain,
How much they hate a Baalite should Reign;
And for this Cause, and for this Cause alone,
Eliakim they’d put by from the Throne.

Eliakim at Court had many Friends,
By whom in Secret he could work his Ends;
So that no Accusation could remove
Him, deeply rooted in his Brother’s Love.
But since the Jews to him shew’d open Hate,
Lest that his presence should embroil the State;
And that the Jews might have no cause to sin,
He’s sent to rule the Tribe of Benjamin.

Each side most zealous for the King appears,
Each full of Jealousies and disturbing Fears,
Each pleads for Amazia and the Laws,
God and Religion both do make their Cause:

Sweet Azaria with these Troubles mov’d,
On that side hated, and by this belov’d;
Fearing th’ inveterate Malice of his Foes,
Which he sought to avoid, not to oppose,

Lest he should grow i’th’ King’s Opinion worse,
He seeks for Council how to steer his Course,
That he might to the Court give no Offence,
But live wrapt up in his own fair Innocence,
88 The wise and thoughtful Hushai he doth find,
And thus to him he breaks his troubled Mind,
Great Councellor, and Favorite of Heav’n,
To whom the Blessing of true Wisdom’s giv’n,
Which by no Mortal can possessed be,
Whose Thoughts are not inform’d by Loyalty.
I know Reproaches upon you are thrown;
But judge your Innocency by my own.
I am accused Sir, as well as you,
And the same Foe doth both our Lives pursue.
He fears your Wisdom, may his Hindrance prove,
And me, because I have the People’s Love:
His Creatures therefore throw on you and me,
The Scandal of a curs’d Conspiracy,
Against our King and Father to rebell:
Me Absalom, and you Achitophel
They name; bad Councellor, and worser Son,
Who Traytors, durst into Rebellion run.
My Father governs with so equal Sway,
That all both love him, and his Laws obey:
He seems Heav’n’s Care, who set him in the Throne,
Preserved by his wondrous Power alone.
Oh may on him no Blemish fall or stain,
But all live happy in his peaceful Reign:
May he be happy still as he is good,
Like God in Mercy, not inclin’d to Blood.

And tho’ my Foes have with their subtil Art
Banish’d me from my Royal Father’s Heart,
Which is the Source of all my Grief and Woe,
My just Obedience I will ne’er forgoe.
Nor has Disgrace, nor my hot Passions wrought,
Within my Breast one bad disloyal Thought.
I ne’er believ’d my Father would betray
His People, or sought Arbitrary Sway:
Or tho’ his People did his Wrath provoke,
He meant to curb them with an Iron Yoak.
89 Yet do I think, nay more than think, the Cause
(But here his passion made some little pause,
Till sighing, at the last he thus went on)
Why my Great Father does disown his Son;
They say I am but of a spurious Brood,
My Mother being of Ignoble Blood:
For Jocoliah was but mean by Birth,
Tho’ with the King she mix’d her baser Earth.
I was begotten in my Father’s Flight,
E’er to the Crown he had obtain’d his Right:
And since I from his Favor did decline,
He has declar’d her but his Concubine.
This has the Hopes rais’d of Eliakim,
And Amaziah’s Crown design’d for him;
My Hopes are lost, and I do think it fit,
I should to God, Right, and the King submit;
But yet, wise Hushai know, I still do find,
My Birth has not so much debas’d my mind,
To make me stoop to low or mean desires;
I feel my Father’s Royal Blood inspires
My depress’d Soul, wipes off th’ ignoble Stain,
Renders me apt, or not unfit to reign.
Of David’s Royal Blood, my self I own,
And with it never can disgrace the Throne.
Tho’ my bold Spirits, mounting thus, do fly
Towards the Noble hight of Sovereignty,
And that I feel my Father’s Blood to rowl
Through every Vein and animate my Soul;
Yet so much Loyalty is sown within
My Breast, I would not Empire gain with Sin:
For when my ambitious Thoughts begin to roam,
Their Forces, I with that soon overcome.
Tho’ to God’s Laws, and to the King’s I yield,
To my known Foes I would not leave the Field.
I’d not be trampl’d on by sordid Feet,
Nor take Affronts from ev’ry one I meet:
I’d give no Cause they should my Courage doubt,
Nor to Rebellion push the vulgar Rout,
I to my Father would give no Offence,
Nor while he lives, lay to the Crown Pretence;
90 But since Life’s sweet, by Wisdom I’d keep mine,
From Baalites Hate, and Eliakim’s Design:
This my wise Friend, is my chief Business now,
To take some Sage and good Advice from you.

Hushai in Silence heard the Prince, and weigh’d
Each word he spake, then to him thus reply’d;

We shall not search into Fates Secret Womb,
God alone knows the things that are to come;
But should you never sit on David’s Throne,
’Tis better to deserve than wear a Crown.
Of Royal Blood, and of great Birth you are,
Born under some benign auspicious Star,
Lov’d by the best, and prais’d by every Tongue,
The glorious Subject of each worthy Song:
The young man’s Wish, Joy of each Warlike Wight,
The People’s Darling, and the World’s Delight.

That I would cherish in you, that would raise
To an admired height, that I would chiefly praise.
Let Fools and subtil Politicians scorn
Fair Vertue, which doth best a Prince adorn:
Whilst you her bright and shining Robes put on,
You will appear more great than Solomon.
Let not Great Prince, the Fumes of Vulgar Praise,
Your bolder Spirits to Ambition raise.
We cannot see into the Mist of Fate,
Till time brings forth, you must expecting wait;
But Fortune, rather Providence, not Chance,
The constant, stout, and wise doth still advance.
Let your quick Eye be to her Motions ty’d;
But still let Noble Vertue be your Guide:
For when that God and Vertue points the way,
There can be then no danger to obey.
But here in Wisdom’s School we ought to learn,
How we ’twixt Good and Evil may discern,
91 For, noble Prince, you must true difference make,
Lest for the one the other you mistake.
You must not think you may your self advance,
By laying hold on every proffer’d chance.
Tho Fortune seems to smile, and egg you on,
Let Vertue be your Rule and Guide alone.
Thus David for his Guide his Vertue took;
Nor was by Fortune’s proffer’d Kindness shook.
His Vertue and his Loyalty did save
King Saul, when Fortune brought him to his Cave,
And if that I may to you Counsel give,
You should without a Crown for ever live,
Rather than get it by the Peoples Lust,
Or purchase it by ways that are unjust.
David your Ancestor, from whom you spring,
Would never by Rebellion be made King;
But long in Gath a Warring Exile stay’d,
Till for him God a lawful way had made.
In Hebron, full of Glory and Renown,
He gain’d, at last, and not usurpt the Crown.
By full Consent he did the same obtain,
And Heav’n’s anointing Oyl was not in vain.
I once did seem to Amazia dear,
Who me above m’ambitious hopes did rear;
I serv’d him then according to my skill,
And bow’d my Mind unto my Soveraign’s Will.
Too neer the Soveraign Image then I stood,
To think that every Line and Stroke was good.
Some Daubers I endeavour’d to remove,
And to amend their artless Errours strove.
My Skill in secret these with slander wound;
With every Line I drew still faults were found;

For this they think I must my Vertue change,
For Envy, Malice, and for sweet Revenge.
Me by themselves they judge, who would do so,
And cause the King suspect me for his Foe.
92 But by th’advice I give, you best will find
Th’Integrity and Plainness of my Mind;
And that I harbour not that vile intent
Their Poets and their Malice do invent.
Far be’t from me, to be like Cursed Cham;
A good Son strives to hide his Father’s shame.
A King, the Father of his Country is;
His shame is every Act he doth amiss.
Good and just Kings God’s Image bear; but when
Their Frailties let us see they are but Men,
We cannot every Action so applaud,
As if it came from an unerring God.
Kings have their Passions, and deceiv’d may be,
When b’others Ears and Eyes they hear and see:
For Sycophants, of Courts the Bane and Curse,
Make all things better than they are, or worse.

Thus, noble Prince, they you and me accuse
With all the Venome Malice can infuse.
Baal’s Priests, Hell, and our Foes, new Arts have got,
The filthy Reliques of their former Plot;
Whereby they would our Lives in danger bring,
And make us cursed Traytors to the King.
What mayn’t these cunning men hope to atchieve,
When by their Arts few men their Plot believe?
When b’horrid ways, not known to Jews before,
Their Plot’s transform’d, and laid now at our door?
But fear not, Sir, we have a sure Defence,
The Peoples Love, God, Law, and Innocence.
Keep fast your Vertue, and you shall be blest,
And let alone to God and Time the rest.

The Noble Youth, with Vertues Robes arrai’d,
Consider’d well what the wise Hushai said.
Desire of Power, though of Celestial Birth,
Below, is ever intermixt with Earth:
And all who do to hight of Place aspire,
Have earthly Smoak mixt with their mounting Fire.
93 Praise may debauch, and strong Ambition blind,
Where heav’nly Vertue does not guard the Mind.
But Azaria so well understood,
He left the Evil, and embrac’d the Good:
Tho in his breast aspiring thoughts he found,
Yet Loyalty still kept them within bound.
And tho he might have Empire in his Eye,
When to it by his bloud allay’d so nigh,
Yet in his Soul such Virtue did remain,
He by Rebellion would not Empire gain.
Through every Vein his Loyal Bloud did run,
Yet Royal too, as Amazia’s Son.
About his noble Heart he felt it spring;
Which let him know his Father was a King.
If that to Azaria were a Blot,
His Father made it when he him begot:
But Heav’n such Virtue moulded with his Soul,
That his aspiring Lust it did controul.
Thus to wise Hushai he repli’d: I finde
Your Counsel is agreeing with my Minde.
And tho my Foes me an ill man do make,
My Loyalty I never will forsake:

Oh, would to Heav’n I ne’er had been begot!
Or never had been born a Royal Blot!

In Glory, Fame, Crowns, Empire, they delight,
And to all these they would assert my Right.
And my great Thoughts do whisper there is none
Can be more neer a Father, than his Son.
This prompts me to oppose Eliakim,
And never yield my Father’s Crown to him.
But then one groveling thought strait pulls me down,
And throws me at a distance from The Crown.
Oh, would to God———And here he stopt and sigh’d,
Whilst Hushai thus to the griev’d Prince repli’d.

94 Indeed, great Prince, it seemeth wondrous strange
To all the World, to see your Father’s change;
To find the happy Love he us’d to show’r,
Like fruitful Rain, on you, to fall no more:
To see a Son, the Father’s dear Delight,
His pleasing Joy, now banish’d from his sight.
Nature must in the Father deeply groan,
When from his Heart is rent so dear a Son.
Nor can I think, tho he from you should part,
A Brother e’er can lie so near his Heart.

Justice in Amazia bears such sway,
That even Nature must to it give way;
H’ad rather Nature force, and part with you,
Than seem to rob another of his due.
He holds it just, and as a thing divine,
To keep unbroken still the Royal Line.
Such an Example we can hardly find,
A King to’s Brother so exceeding kind;
When by it he doth such great hazard run,
Losing at once his People and his Son.

I should great folly shew, should I repine
At what I could not help, and was no fault of mine.
Tho by your Mothers side your Birth was mean,
And tho your Mother no declared Queen,
If Heaven and your Father please, you may
By lawful Right, Judea’s Scepter sway,
After that he is number’d with the Dead,
And his great Soul to Abraham’s Bosom fled.
Possession of a Crown clears every Stain;
No blot of Birth to you can then remain.
What Pow’r on Earth, by Right, dares question you?
Or what your Father and Sanhedrim do?
Nor is your Birth to Heaven any let;
God Jepthtah once did o’re Judea set.
95 He was a Conquerour of a mighty Name,
And’s Mother no ways did eclipse his Fame,
Nor bar’d him from the Title of a King,
Nor those who after from his Loins did spring.
Nature may yet make your great Father kind;
And who can tell but he may change his mind,
When your Succession shall be understood
To be the Peoples Choice, and for the Nations Good?
But let us leave what is to come, to Fate;
Yours Father’s pleasure and God’s will await.
Long may it be ere the King’s life doth end;
On it our Peace and Happiness depend.
Like Wheat full ripe, with many years bow’d down,
Let him leave this for an immortal Crown.
And who can tell Heav’n’s will? it may be too,
Eliakim may die before the King or you.
Think of no Titles while your Father lives;
Take not what an unjust Occasion gives.
For to take Arms you can have no pretence,
Tho it should be e’en in your own defence.
It better were without the Crown to die,
Than quit your Vertue and blest Loyaltie.
You with the numerous Peoples Love are blest,
Not of the Vulgars onely, but the Best.
I would not have you their kind Love repel,
Nor give encouragement for to rebel:
For their Affection which they wildly shew,
Is rendred, by your Foes, a Crime in you.