Anti-Achitophel (1682) Part 7

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.

My Verse might here discharge its hasty Flight, } As Pencils that attempt Immortal Heighth } Droop in the Colours should convey its Light, } Did not this Poet's Lines upon me call For some Reflexions on a Lower Fall; 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 _Parna.s.sus_ 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.

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 Compa.s.s 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 pa.s.s To gaping _Amiell_, as reflects our Gla.s.s.

The _Him_ indeed of his own *Western Dome, [Sidenote: _See his_, p. 27.]

So near his praiseful Poet Sense may come: For *_Amiell_, _Amiell_, who cannot endite [Sidenote: _See his_, p. 28.]

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 s.h.i.+ft, 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.

Of Things and Persons might be added more, Without Intelligence from Forreign Sh.o.r.e, Or what Designs Amba.s.sadors contrive, Or how the Faithless _French_ their Compa.s.s 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._

[Erratum:

And such Heaven bids thee not relinquish too.

_text reads "relinqnish"_ ]

AZARIA AND HUSHAI,

A POEM.

_Quod cuique visum est sentiant._

_LONDON,_ Printed for _Charles Lee_, An. Dom. 1682.

TO THE READER.

I shall not go about, either to excuse, or justifie the Publis.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.s 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 Pa.s.sion 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 l.u.s.tre.

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 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 h.o.r.n.y 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 G.o.d, 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, G.o.d-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 G.o.d and King new Work: For _Amazia_, tho' he G.o.d 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; But Int'rest, which at bottom doth remain, Which still converts all G.o.dliness 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 G.o.d and his good Kings to cast them out.

Their Idols were pull'd down, their Groves destroy'd, Strict Laws against them, and their Wors.h.i.+p 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 p.r.i.c.king-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 h.e.l.l 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y Wars create.

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 G.o.d, 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 h.e.l.lish 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 Wors.h.i.+p was allow'd, And King and People to gross Idols bow'd.

The Priests, like b.l.o.o.d.y Tyrants did command; They and their G.o.ds, 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, And _Chemarims_ he banished or slew.

Since when (except in _Athaliah_'s Reign, Who for a s.p.a.ce, 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 Wors.h.i.+p strict: In their own _Synagogues_ he let them pray, And wors.h.i.+p G.o.d after their stricter way.

In Peace all liv'd, and former strife forgot, The _Chemarims_ and h.e.l.l 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 b.l.o.o.d.y Swords to fall, That all _Judea_ might submit _to Baal_.

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.

_aegypt_ of Warlike _Jews_ was still afraid, } Lest as of Old, they should that Land invade, } To further this Design had promis'd Aid. } 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.