S' Face. His Memory Miraculously Great, Could Plots, Exceeding Man'S Belief, Repeat; Which Therefore Cannot Be Accounted Lies, For Human Wit Could Never Such Devise. Some Future Truths Are Mingled In His Book; But Where The Witness Fail'D, The Prophet Spoke. Some Things Like Visionary Flights Appear; The Spirit Caught Him Up The Lord Knows Where; And Gave Him His Rabbinical Degree, Unknown To Foreign University. His Judgment Yet His Memory Did Excel; Which Pieced His Wondrous Evidence So Well, And Suited To The Temper Of The Times, Then Groaning Under Jebusitic Crimes. Let Israel'S Foes Suspect His Heavenly Call, And Rashly Judge His Wit Apocryphal; Our Laws For Such Affronts Have Forfeits Made; He Takes His Life Who Takes Away His Trade. Were I Myself In Witness Corah'S Place, The Wretch Who Did Me Such A Dire Disgrace, Should Whet My Memory, Though Once Forgot, To Make Him An Appendix Of My Plot. His Zeal To Heaven Made Him His Prince Despise, And Load His Person With Indignities. But Zeal Peculiar Privilege Affords, Indulging Latitude To Deeds And Words: And Corah Might For Agag'S Murder Call, In Terms As Coarse As Samuel Used To Saul. What Others In His Evidence Did Join, The Best That Could Be Had For Love Or Coin, In Corah'S Own Predicament Will Fall: For Witness Is A Common Name To All. Surrounded Thus With Friends Of Every Sort, Deluded Absalom Forsakes The Court: Impatient Of High Hopes, Urged With Renown, And Fired With Near Possession Of A Crown. The Admiring Crowd Are Dazzled With Surprise, And On His Goodly Person Feed Their Eyes. His Joy Conceal'D He Sets Himself To Show; On Each Side Bowing Popularly Low: His Looks, His Gestures, And His Words He Frames, And With Familiar Ease Repeats Their Names. Thus Form'D By Nature, Furnish'D Out With Arts, He Glides Unfelt Into Their Secret Hearts. Then, With A Kind Compassionating Look, And Sighs, Bespeaking Pity Ere He Spoke, Few Words He Said; But Easy Those And Fit, More Slow Than Hybla-Drops, And Far More Sweet. I Mourn, My Countrymen, Your Lost Estate; Though Far Unable To Prevent Your Fate: Behold A Banish'D Man For Your Dear Cause Exposed A Prey To Arbitrary Laws! Yet Oh! That I Alone Could Be Undone, Cut Off From Empire, And No More A Son! Now All Your Liberties A Spoil Are Made; Egypt And Tyrus Intercept Your Trade, And Jebusites Your Sacred Rites Invade. My Father, Whom With Reverence Yet I Name, Charm'D Into Ease, Is Careless Of His Fame; And Bribed With Petty Sums Of Foreign Gold, Is Grown In Bathsheba'S Embraces Old; Exalts His Enemies, His Friends Destroys, And All His Power Against Himself Employs. He Gives, And Let Him Give, My Right Away: But Why Should He His Own And Yours Betray? He, Only He, Can Make The Nation Bleed, And He Alone From My Revenge Is Freed. Take Then My Tears (With That He Wiped His Eyes), 'Tis All The Aid My Present Power Supplies: No Court-Informer Can These Arms Accuse; These Arms May Sons Against Their Fathers Use: And 'Tis My Wish, The Next Successor'S Reign, May Make No Other Israelite Complain. Youth, Beauty, Graceful Action Seldom Fail; But Common Interest Always Will Prevail: And Pity Never Ceases To Be Shown To Him Who Makes The People'S Wrongs His Own. The Crowd, That Still Believe Their Kings Oppress, With Lifted Hands Their Young Messiah Bless: Who Now Begins His Progress To Ordain With Chariots, Horsemen, And A Numerous Train: From East To West His Glories He Displays, And, Like The Sun, The Promised Land Surveys. Fame Runs Before Him As The Morning-Star, And Shouts Of Joy Salute Him From Afar: Each House Receives Him As A Guardian God, And Consecrates The Place Of His Abode. But Hospitable Treats Did Most Commend Wise Issachar, His Wealthy Western Friend. This Moving Court, That Caught The People'S Eyes, And Seem'D But Pomp, Did Other Ends Disguise: Achitophel Had Form'D It, With Intent To Sound The Depths, And Fathom Where It Went, The People'S Hearts, Distinguish Friends From Foes, And Try Their Strength, Before They Came To Blows. Yet All Was Colour'D With A Smooth Pretence Of Specious Love, And Duty To Their Prince. Religion, And Redress Of Grievances, Two Names That Always Cheat, And Always Please, Are Often Urged; And Good King David'S Life Endanger'D By A Brother And A Wife. Thus In A Pageant Show A Plot Is Made; And Peace Itself Is War In Masquerade. O Foolish Israel! Never Warn'D By Ill! Still The Same Bait, And Circumvented Still! Did Ever Men Forsake Their Present Ease, In Midst Of Health Imagine A Disease; Take Pains Contingent Mischiefs To Foresee, Make Heirs For Monarchs, And For God Decree? What Shall We Think? Can People Give Away, Both For Themselves And Sons, Their Native Sway? Then They Are Left Defenceless To The Sword Of Each Unbounded, Arbitrary Lord: And Laws Are Vain, By Which We Right Enjoy, If Kings Unquestion'D Can Those Laws Destroy. Yet If The Crowd Be Judge Of Fit And Just, And Kings Are Only Officers In Trust, Then This Resuming Covenant Was Declared When Kings Were Made, Or Is For Ever Barr'D. If Those Who Gave The Sceptre Could Not Tie, By Their Own Deed, Their Own Posterity, How Then Could Adam Bind His Future Race? How Could His Forfeit On Mankind Take Place? Or How Could Heavenly Justice Damn Us All, Who Ne'er Consented To Our Father'S Fall? Then Kings Are Slaves To Those Whom They Command, And Tenants To Their People'S Pleasure Stand. Add, That The Power For Property Allow'D Is Mischievously Seated In The Crowd; For Who Can Be Secure Of Private Right, If Sovereign Sway May Be Dissolved By Might? Nor Is The People'S Judgment Always True: The Most May Err As Grossly As The Few? And Faultless Kings Run Down By Common Cry, For Vice, Oppression, And For Tyranny. What Standard Is There In A Fickle Rout, Which, Flowing To The Mark, Runs Faster Out? Nor Only Crowds But Sanhedrims May Be Infected With This Public Lunacy, And Share The Madness Of Rebellious Times, To Murder Monarchs For Imagined Crimes. If They May Give And Take WheNe'er They Please, Not Kings Alone, The Godhead'S Images, But Government Itself At Length Must Fall To Nature'S State, Where All Have Right To All. Yet, Grant Our Lords The People Kings Can Make, What Prudent Men A Settled Throne Would Shake? For Whatsoe'Er Their Sufferings Were Before, That Change They Covet Makes Them Suffer More. All Other Errors But Disturb A State; But Innovation Is The Blow Of Fate. If Ancient Fabrics Nod, And Threat To Fall, To Patch Their Flaws, And Buttress Up The Wall, Thus Far 'Tis Duty: But Here Fix The Mark; For All Beyond It Is To Touch The Ark. To Change Foundations, Cast The Frame Anew, Is Work For Rebels, Who Base Ends Pursue; At Once Divine And Human Laws Control, And Mend The Parts By Ruin Of The Whole, The Tampering World Is Subject To This Curse, To Physic Their Disease Into A Worse. Now What Relief Can Righteous David Bring? How Fatal 'Tis To Be Too Good A King! Friends He Has Few, So High The Madness Grows; Who Dare Be Such Must Be The People'S Foes. Yet Some There Were, Even In The Worst Of Days; Some Let Me Name, And Naming Is To Praise. In This Short File Barzillai First Appears; Barzillai, Crown'D With Honour And With Years. Long Since, The Rising Rebels He Withstood In Regions Waste Beyond The Jordan'S Flood: Unfortunately Brave To Buoy The State; But Sinking Underneath His Master'S Fate: In Exile With His Godlike Prince He Mourn'D; For Him He Suffer'D, And With Him Return'D. The Court He Practised, Not The Courtier'S Art: Large Was His Wealth, But Larger Was His Heart, Which Well The Noblest Objects Knew To Choose, The Fighting Warrior, And Recording Muse. His Bed Could Once A Fruitful Issue Boast; Now More Than Half A Father'S Name Is Lost. His Eldest Hope, With Every Grace Adorn'D, By Me, So Heaven Will Have It, Always Mourn'D, And Always Honour'D, Snatch'D In Manhood'S Prime By Unequal Fates, And Providence'S Crime: Yet Not Before The Goal Of Honour Won, All Parts Fulfill'D Of Subject And Of Son: Swift Was The Race, But Short The Time To Run. O Narrow Circle, But Of Power Divine, Scanted In Space, But Perfect In Thy Line! By Sea, By Land, Thy Matchless Worth Was Known, Arms Thy Delight, And War Was All Thy Own: Thy Force Infused The Fainting Tyrians Propp'D; And Haughty Pharaoh Found His Fortune Stopp'D. O Ancient Honour! O Unconquer'D Hand, Whom Foes Unpunish'D Never Could Withstand! But Israel Was Unworthy Of His Name; Short Is The Date Of All Immoderate Fame. It Looks As Heaven Our Ruin Had Design'D, And Durst Not Trust Thy Fortune And Thy Mind. Now, Free From Earth, Thy Disencumber'D Soul Mounts Up, And Leaves Behind The Clouds And Starry Pole: From Thence Thy Kindred Legions Mayst Thou Bring, To Aid The Guardian Angel Of Thy King. Here Stop, My Muse, Here Cease Thy Painful Flight: No Pinions Can Pursue Immortal Height: Tell Good Barzillai Thou Canst Sing No More, And Tell Thy Soul She Should Have Fled Before: Or Fled She With His Life, And Left This Verse To Hang On Her Departed Patron'S Hearse? Now Take Thy Steepy Flight From Heaven, And See If Thou Canst Find On Earth Another He: Another He Would Be Too Hard To Find; See Then Whom Thou Canst See Not Far Behind. Zadoc The Priest, Whom, Shunning Power And Place, His Lowly Mind Advanced To David'S Grace. With Him The Sagan Of Jerusalem, Of Hospitable Soul, And Noble Stem; Him[6] Of The Western Dome, Whose Weighty Sense Flows In Fit Words And Heavenly Eloquence. The Prophets' Sons, By Such Example Led, To Learning And To Loyalty Were Bred: For Colleges On Bounteous Kings Depend, And Never Rebel Was To Arts A Friend. To These Succeed The Pillars Of The Laws, Who Best Can Plead, And Best Can Judge A Cause. Next Them A Train Of Loyal Peers Ascend; Sharp-Judging Adriel, The Muses' Friend, Himself A Muse: In Sanhedrim'S Debate True To His Prince, But Not A Slave Of State: Whom David'S Love With Honours Did Adorn, That From His Disobedient Son Were Torn. Jotham, Of Piercing Wit, And Pregnant Thought; Endued By Nature, And By Learning Taught To Move Assemblies, Who But Only Tried The Worse Awhile, Then Chose The Better Side: Nor Chose Alone, But Turn'D The Balance Too,-- So Much The Weight Of One Brave Man Can Do. Hushai, The Friend Of David In Distress; In Public Storms Of Manly Steadfastness: By Foreign Treaties He Inform'D His Youth, And Join'D Experience To His Native Truth. His Frugal Care Supplied The Wanting Throne-- Frugal For That, But Bounteous Of His Own: 'Tis Easy Conduct When Exchequers Flow; But Hard The Task To Manage Well The Low; For Sovereign Power Is Too Depress'D Or High, When Kings Are Forced To Sell, Or Crowds To Buy. Indulge One Labour More, My Weary Muse, For Amiel: Who Can Amiel'S Praise Refuse? Of Ancient Race By Birth, But Nobler Yet In His Own Worth, And Without Title Great: The Sanhedrim Long Time As Chief He Ruled, Their Reason Guided, And Their Passion Cool'D: So Dexterous Was He In The Crown'S Defence, So Form'D To Speak A Loyal Nation'S Sense, That, As Their Band Was Israel'S Tribes In Small, So Fit Was He To Represent Them All. Now Rasher Charioteers The Seat Ascend, Whose Loose Careers His Steady Skill Commend: They, Like The Unequal Ruler Of The Day,[7] Misguide The Seasons, And Mistake The Way; While He Withdrawn, At Their Mad Labours Smiles, And Safe Enjoys The Sabbath Of His Toils. These Were The Chief, A Small But Faithful Band Of Worthies, In The Breach Who Dared To Stand, And Tempt The United Fury Of The Land: With Grief They View'D Such Powerful Engines Bent, To Batter Down The Lawful Government. A Numerous Faction, With Pretended Frights, In Sanhedrims To Plume The Regal Rights; The True Successor From The Court Removed; The Plot, By Hireling Witnesses, Improved. These Ills They Saw, And, As Their Duty Bound, They Show'D The King The Danger Of The Wound; That No Concessions From The Throne Would Please, But Lenitives Fomented The Disease: That Absalom, Ambitious Of The Crown, Was Made The Lure To Draw The People Down: That False Achitophel'S Pernicious Hate Had Turn'D The Plot To Ruin Church And State: The Council Violent, The Rabble Worse: That Shimei Taught Jerusalem To Curse. With All These Loads Of Injuries Oppress'D, And Long Revolving In His Careful Breast The Event Of Things, At Last His Patience Tired, Thus, From His Royal Throne, By Heaven Inspired, The God-Like David Spoke; With Awful Fear, His Train Their Maker In Their Master Hear. Thus Long Have I, By Native Mercy Sway'D, My Wrongs Dissembled, My Revenge Delay'D: So Willing To Forgive The Offending Age; So Much The Father Did The King Assuage. But Now So Far My Clemency They Slight, The Offenders Question My Forgiving Right: That One Was Made For Many, They Contend; But 'Tis To Rule; For That'S A Monarch'S End. They Call My Tenderness Of Blood, My Fear: Though Manly Tempers Can The Longest Bear. Yet, Since They Will Divert My Native Course, 'Tis Time To Show I Am Not Good By Force. Those Heap'D Affronts That Haughty Subjects Bring, Are Burdens For A Camel, Not A King. Kings Are The Public Pillars Of The State, Born To Sustain And Prop The Nation'S Weight: If My Young Samson Will Pretend A Call To Shake The Column, Let Him Share The Fall: But Oh, That Yet He Would Repent And Live! How Easy 'Tis For Parents To Forgive! With How Few Tears A Pardon Might Be Won From Nature, Pleading For A Darling Son! Poor, Pitied Youth, By My Paternal Care, Raised Up To All The Height His Frame Could Bear! Had God Ordain'D His Fate For Empire Born, He Would Have Given His Soul Another Turn: Gull'D With A Patriot'S Name, Whose Modern Sense Is One That Would By Law Supplant His Prince; The People'S Brave, The Politician'S Tool; Never Was Patriot Yet, But Was A Fool. Whence Comes It, That Religion And The Laws Should More Be Absalom'S Than David'S Cause? His Old Instructor, Ere He Lost His Place, Was Never Thought Endued With So Much Grace. Good Heavens, How Faction Can A Patriot Paint! My Rebel Ever Proves My People'S Saint. Would They Impose An Heir Upon The Throne, Let Sanhedrims Be Taught To Give Their Own. A King'S At Least A Part Of Government; And Mine As Requisite As Their Consent: Without My Leave A Future King To Choose, Infers A Right The Present To Depose. True, They Petition Me To Approve Their Choice: But Esau'S Hands Suit Ill With Jacob'S Voice. My Pious Subjects For My Safety Pray, Which To Secure, They Take My Power Away. From Plots And Treasons Heaven Preserve My Years, But Save Me Most From My Petitioners! Insatiate As The Barren Womb Or Grave, God Cannot Grant So Much As They Can Crave. What Then Is Left, But With A Jealous Eye To Guard The Small Remains Of Royalty? The Law Shall Still Direct My Peaceful Sway, And The Same Law Teach Rebels To Obey: Votes Shall No More Establish'D Power Control, Such Votes As Make A Part Exceed The Whole. No Groundless Clamours Shall My Friends Remove, Nor Crowds Have Power To Punish Ere They Prove; For Gods And God-Like Kings Their Care Express, Still To Defend Their Servants In Distress. O That My Power To Saving Were Confined! Why Am I Forced, Like Heaven, Against My Mind; To Make Examples Of Another Kind? Must I At Length The Sword Of Justice Draw? Oh, Cursed Effects Of Necessary Law! How Ill My Fear They By My Mercy Scan! Beware The Fury Of A Patient Man! Law They Require, Let Law Then Show Her Face; They Could Not Be Content To Look On Grace, Her Hinder Parts, But With A Daring Eye To Tempt The Terror Of Her Front And Die. By Their Own Arts 'Tis Righteously Decreed, Those Dire Artificers Of Death Shall Bleed. Against Themselves Their Witnesses Will Swear, Till, Viper-Like, Their Mother-Plot They Tear; And Suck For Nutriment That Bloody Gore, Which Was Their Principle Of Life Before. Their Belial With Their Beelzebub Will Fight: Thus On My Foes, My Foes Shall Do Me Right. Nor Doubt The Event: For Factious Crowds Engage, In Their First Onset, All Their Brutal Rage. Then Let Them Take An Unresisted Course; Retire, And Traverse, And Delude Their Force; But When They Stand All Breathless, Urge The Fight, And Rise Upon Them With Redoubled Might-- For Lawful Power Is Still Superior Found; When Long Driven Back, At Length It Stands The Ground. He Said: The Almighty, Nodding, Gave Consent; And Peals Of Thunder Shook The Firmament. Henceforth A Series Of New Time Began, The Mighty Years In Long Procession Ran: Once More The God-Like David Was Restored, And Willing Nations Knew Their Lawful Lord. * * * * * Part Ii. "Si Quis Tamen Haec Quoque, Si Quis Captus Amore Leget." To The Reader. In The Year 1680, Mr Dryden Undertook The Poem Of Absalom And Achitophel, Upon The Desire Of King Charles The Second. The Performance Was Applauded By Every One; And Several Persons Pressing Him To Write A Second Part, He, Upon Declining It Himself, Spoke To Mr Tate[8] To Write One, And Gave Him His Advice In The Direction Of It; And That Part Beginning With "Next These, A Troop Of Busy Spirits Press," And Ending With "To Talk Like Doeg, And To Write Like Thee," Containing Near Two Hundred Verses, Mere Entirely Mr Dryden'S Composition, Besides Some Touches In Other Places. Derrick. * * * * * Since Men Like Beasts Each Other'S Prey Were Made, Since Trade Began, And Priesthood Grew A Trade, Since Realms Were Form'D, None Sure So Cursed As Those That Madly Their Own Happiness Oppose; There Heaven Itself And God-Like Kings, In Vain Shower Down The Manna Of A Gentle Reign; While Pamper'D Crowds To Mad Sedition Run, And Monarchs By Indulgence Are Undone. Thus David'S Clemency Was Fatal Grown, While Wealthy Faction Awed The Wanting Throne. For Now Their Sovereign'S Orders To Contemn Was Held The Charter Of Jerusalem; His Rights To Invade, His Tributes To Refuse, A Privilege Peculiar To The Jews; As If From Heavenly Call This Licence Fell, And Jacob'S Seed Were Chosen To Rebel! Achitophel With Triumph Sees His Crimes Thus Suited To The Madness Of The Times; And Absalom, To Make His Hopes Succeed, Of Flattering Charms No Longer Stands In Need; While Fond Of Change, Though Ne'er So Dearly Bought, Our Tribes Outstrip The Youth'S Ambitious Thought; His Swiftest Hopes With Swifter Homage Meet, And Crowd Their Servile Necks Beneath His Feet. Thus To His Aid While Pressing Tides Repair, He Mounts And Spreads His Streamers In The Air. The Charms Of Empire Might His Youth Mislead, But What Can Our Besotted Israel Plead? Sway'D By A Monarch, Whose Serene Command Seems Half The Blessing Of Our Promised Land: Whose Only Grievance Is Excess Of Ease; Freedom Our Pain, And Plenty Our Disease! Yet, As All Folly Would Lay Claim To Sense, And Wickedness Ne'er Wanted A Pretence, With Arguments They'D Make Their Treason Good, And Righteous David'S Self With Slanders Load: That Arts Of Foreign Sway He Did Affect, And Guilty Jebusites From Law Protect, Whose Very Chiefs, Convict, Were Never Freed, Nay, We Have Seen Their Sacrificers Bleed! Accusers' Infamy Is Urged In Vain, While In The Bounds Of Sense They Did Contain; But Soon They Launch Into The Unfathom'D Tide, And In The Depths They Knew Disdain'D To Ride. For Probable Discoveries To Dispense, Was Thought Below A Pension'D Evidence; Mere Truth Was Dull, Nor Suited With The Port Of Pamper'D Corah When Advanced To Court. No Less Than Wonders Now They Will Impose, And Projects Void Of Grace Or Sense Disclose. Such Was The Charge On Pious Michal Brought,-- Michal That Ne'er Was Cruel, Even In Thought,-- The Best Of Queens, And Most Obedient Wife, Impeach'D Of Cursed Designs On David'S Life! His Life, The Theme Of Her Eternal Prayer, 'Tis Scarce So Much His Guardian Angel'S Care. Not Summer Morns Such Mildness Can Disclose, The Hermon Lily, Nor The Sharon Rose. Neglecting Each Vain Pomp Of Majesty, Transported Michal Feeds Her Thoughts On High. She Lives With Angels, And, As Angels Do, Quits Heaven Sometimes To Bless The World Below; Where, Cherish'D By Her Bounties' Plenteous Spring, Reviving Widows Smile, And Orphans Sing. Oh! When Rebellious Israel'S Crimes At Height, Are Threaten'D With Her Lord'S Approaching Fate, The Piety Of Michal Then Remain In Heaven'S Remembrance, And Prolong His Reign! Less Desolation Did The Pest Pursue, That From Dan'S Limits To Beersheba Flew; Less Fatal The Repeated Wars Of Tyre, And Less Jerusalem'S Avenging Fire. With Gentler Terror These Our State O'Erran, Than Since Our Evidencing Days Began! On Every Cheek A Pale Confusion Sate, Continued Fear Beyond The Worst Of Fate! Trust Was No More; Art, Science Useless Made; All Occupations Lost But Corah'S Trade. Meanwhile A Guard On Modest Corah Wait, If Not For Safety, Needful Yet For State. Well Might He Deem Each Peer And Prince His Slave, And Lord It O'Er The Tribes Which He Could Save: Even Vice In Him Was Virtue--What Sad Fate, But For His Honesty Had Seized Our State! And With What Tyranny Had We Been Cursed, Had Corah Never Proved A Villain First! To Have Told His Knowledge Of The Intrigue In Gross, Had Been, Alas! To Our Deponent'S Loss: The Travell'D Levite Had The Experience Got, To Husband Well, And Make The Best Of'S Plot; And Therefore, Like An Evidence Of Skill, With Wise Reserves Secured His Pension Still; Nor Quite Of Future Power Himself Bereft, But Limbos Large For Unbelievers Left. And Now His Writ Such Reverence Had Got, 'Twas Worse Than Plotting To Suspect His Plot. Some Were So Well Convinced, They Made No Doubt Themselves To Help The Founder'D Swearers Out. Some Had Their Sense Imposed On By Their Fear, But More For Interest Sake Believe And Swear: Even To That Height With Some The Frenzy Grew, They Raged To Find Their Danger Not Prove True. Yet, Than All These A Viler Crew Remain, Who With Achitophel The Cry Maintain; Not Urged By Fear, Nor Through Misguided Sense,-- Blind Zeal And Starving Need Had Some Pretence; But For The Good Old Cause, That Did Excite The Original Rebels' Wiles--Revenge And Spite. These Raise The Plot, To Have The Scandal Thrown Upon The Bright Successor Of The Crown, Whose Virtue With Such Wrongs They Had Pursued, As Seem'D All Hope Of Pardon To Exclude. Thus, While On Private Ends Their Zeal Is Built, The Cheated Crowd Applaud, And Share Their Guilt. Such Practices As These, Too Gross To Lie Long Unobserved By Each Discerning Eye, The More Judicious Israelites Unspell'D, Though Still The Charm The Giddy Rabble Held. Even Absalom, Amidst The Dazzling Beams Of Empire, And Ambition'S Flattering Dreams, Perceives The Plot, Too Foul To Be Excused, To Aid Designs, No Less Pernicious, Used. And, Filial Sense Yet Striving In His Breast, Thus To Achitophel His Doubts Express'D: Why Are My Thoughts Upon A Crown Employ'D. Which, Once Obtain'D, Can Be But Half Enjoy'D? Not So When Virtue Did My Arms Require, And To My Father'S Wars I Flew Entire. My Regal Power How Will My Foes Resent, When I Myself Have Scarce My Own Consent! Give Me A Son'S Unblemish'D Truth Again, Or Quench The Sparks Of Duty That Remain. How Slight To Force A Throne That Legions Guard The Task To Me! To Prove Unjust, How Hard! And If The Imagined Guilt Thus Wound My Thought, What Will It When The Tragic Scene Is Wrought! Dire War Must First Be Conjured From Below, The Realm We Rule We First Must Overthrow; And, When The Civil Furies Are On Wing, That Blind And Undistinguish'D Slaughters Fling, Who Knows What Impious Chance May Reach The King? Oh, Rather Let Me Perish In The Strife, Than Have My Crown The Price Of David'S Life! Or If The Tempest Of The War He Stand, In Peace, Some Vile Officious Villain'S Hand His Soul'S Anointed Temple May Invade; Or, Press'D By Clamorous Crowds, Myself Be Made His Murderer; Rebellious Crowds, Whose Guilt Shall Dread His Vengeance Till His Blood Be Spilt. Which, If My Filial Tenderness Oppose, Since To The Empire By Their Arms I Rose, Those Very Arms On Me Shall Be Employ'D, A New Usurper Crown'D, And I Destroy'D: The Same Pretence Of Public Good Will Hold, And New Achitophels Be Found As Bold To Urge The Needful Change--Perhaps The Old. He Said. The Statesman With A Smile Replies, A Smile That Did His Rising Spleen Disguise: My Thoughts Presumed Our Labours At An End; And Are We Still With Conscience To Contend? Whose Want In Kings As Needful Is Allow'D, As 'Tis For Them To Find It In The Crowd. Far In The Doubtful Passage You Are Gone, And Only Can Be Safe By Pressing On. The Crown'S True Heir, A Prince Severe And Wise, Has View'D Your Motions Long With Jealous Eyes, Your Person'S Charms, Your More Prevailing Arts, And Mark'D Your Progress In The People'S Hearts, Whose Patience Is The Effect Of Stinted Power, But Treasures Vengeance For The Fatal Hour; And If Remote The Peril He Can Bring, Your Present Danger'S Greater From The King. Let Not A Parent'S Name Deceive Your Sense, Nor Trust The Father In A Jealous Prince! Your Trivial Faults If He Could So Resent, To Doom You Little Less Than Banishment, What Rage Must Your Presumption Since Inspire! Against His Orders You Return From Tyre. Nor Only So, But With A Pomp More High, And Open Court Of Popularity, The Factious Tribes.--And This Reproof From Thee! The Prince Replies; Oh, Statesman'S Winding Skill, They First Condemn That First Advised The Ill! Illustrious Youth! Returned Achitophel, Misconstrue Not The Words That Mean You Well; The Course You Steer I Worthy Blame Conclude, But 'Tis Because You Leave It Unpursued. A Monarch'S Crown With Fate Surrounded Lies, Who Reach, Lay Hold On Death That Miss The Prize. Did You For This Expose Yourself To Show, And To The Crowd Bow Popularly Low? For This Your Glorious Progress Next Ordain, With Chariots, Horsemen, And A Numerous Train? With Fame Before You, Like The Morning Star, And Shouts Of Joy Saluting From Afar? Oh, From The Heights You'Ve Reach'D But Take A View, Scarce Leading Lucifer Could Fall Like You! And Must I Here My Shipwreck'D Arts Bemoan? Have I For This So Oft Made Israel Groan? Your Single Interest With The Nation Weigh'D, And Turn'D The Scale Where Your Desires Were Laid; Even When At Helm A Course So Dangerous Moved To Land Your Hopes, As My Removal Proved.-- I Not Dispute, The Royal Youth Replies, The Known Perfection Of Your Policies; Nor In Achitophel Yet Grudge Or Blame The Privilege That Statesmen Ever Claim; Who Private Interest Never Yet Pursued, But Still Pretended 'Twas For Others Good: What Politician Yet E'Er 'Scaped His Fate, Who, Saving His Own Neck, Not Saved The State? From Hence, On Every Humorous Wind That Veer'D, With Shifted Sails A Several Course You Steer'D. What Form Of Sway Did David E'Er Pursue, That Seem'D Like Absolute, But Sprung From You? Who At Your Instance Quash'D Each Penal Law, That Kept Dissenting Factious Jews In Awe; And Who Suspends Fix'D Laws, May Abrogate, That Done, Form New, And So Enslave The State. Even Property Whose Champion Now You Stand, And Seem For This The Idol Of The Land, Did Ne'er Sustain Such Violence Before, As When Your Counsel Shut The Royal Store; Advice, That Ruin To Whole Tribes Procured, But Secret Kept Till Your Own Banks Secured. Recount With This The Triple Covenant Broke, And Israel Fitted For A Foreign Yoke; Nor Here Your Counsel'S Fatal Progress Stay'D, But Sent Our Levied Powers To Pharaoh'S Aid. Hence Tyre And Israel, Low In Ruins Laid, And Egypt, Once Their Scorn, Their Common Terror Made. Even Yet Of Such A Season Can We Dream, When Royal Rights You Made Your Darling Theme. For Power Unlimited Could Reasons Draw, And Place Prerogative Above The Law; Which, On Your Fall From Office, Grew Unjust, The Laws Made King, The King A Slave In Trust: Whom With State-Craft, To Interest Only True, You Now Accuse Of Ills Contrived By You. To This Hell'S Agent: Royal Youth, Fix Here, Let Interest Be The Star By Which You Steer. Hence To Repose Your Trust In Me Was Wise, Whose Interest Most In Your Advancement Lies. A Tie So Firm As Always Will Avail, When Friendship, Nature, And Religion Fail; On Ours The Safety Of The Crowd Depends; Secure The Crowd, And We Obtain Our Ends, Whom I Will Cause So Far Our Guilt To Share, Till They Are Made Our Champions By Their Fear. What Opposition Can Your Rival Bring, While Sanhedrims Are Jealous Of The King? His Strength As Yet In David'S Friendship Lies, And What Can David'S Self Without Supplies? Who With Exclusive Bills Must Now Dispense, Debar The Heir, Or Starve In His Defence. Conditions Which Our Elders Ne'er Will Quit, And David'S Justice Never Can Admit. Or Forced By Wants His Brother To Betray, To Your Ambition Next He Clears The Way; For If Succession Once To Nought They Bring, Their Next Advance Removes The Present King: Persisting Else His Senates To Dissolve, In Equal Hazard Shall His Reign Involve. Our Tribes, Whom Pharaoh'S Power So Much Alarms, Shall Rise Without Their Prince To Oppose His Arms; Nor Boots It On What Cause At First They Join, Their Troops, Once Up, Are Tools For Our Design. At Least Such Subtle Covenants Shall Be Made, Till Peace Itself Is War In Masquerade. Associations Of Mysterious Sense, Against, But Seeming For, The King'S Defence: Even On Their Courts Of Justice Fetters Draw, And From Our Agents Muzzle Up Their Law. By Which A Conquest If We Fail To Make, 'Tis A Drawn Game At Worst, And We Secure Our Stake. He Said, And For The Dire Success Depends On Various Sects, By Common Guilt Made Friends. Whose Heads, Though Ne'er So Differing In Their Creed, I' Th' Point Of Treason Yet Were Well Agreed. 'Mongst These, Extorting Ishban First Appears, Pursued By A Meagre Troop Of Bankrupt Heirs. Blest Times When Ishban, He Whose Occupation So Long Has Been To Cheat, Reforms The Nation! Ishban Of Conscience Suited To His Trade, As Good A Saint As Usurer Ever Made. Yet Mammon Has Not So Engross'D Him Quite, But Belial Lays As Large A Claim Of Spite; Who, For Those Pardons From His Prince He Draws, Returns Reproaches, And Cries Up The Cause. That Year In Which The City He Did Sway, He Left Rebellion In A Hopeful Way, Yet His Ambition Once Was Found So Bold, To Offer Talents Of Extorted Gold; Could David'S Wants Have So Been Bribed, To Shame And Scandalize Our Peerage With His Name; For Which, His Dear Sedition He'D Forswear, And E'En Turn Loyal To Be Made A Peer. Next Him, Let Railing Rabsheka Have Place, So Full Of Zeal He Has No Need Of Grace; A Saint That Can Both Flesh And Spirit Use, Alike Haunt Conventicles And The Stews: Of Whom The Question Difficult Appears, If Most I' Th' Preacher'S Or The Bawd'S Arrears. What Caution Could Appear Too Much In Him That Keeps The Treasure Of Jerusalem! Let David'S Brother But Approach The Town, Double Our Guards, He Cries, We Are Undone. Protesting That He Dares Not Sleep In 'S Bed Lest He Should Rise Next Morn Without His Head. Next[9] These, A Troop Of Busy Spirits Press, Of Little Fortunes, And Of Conscience Less; With Them The Tribe, Whose Luxury Had Drain'D Their Banks, In Former Sequestrations Gain'D; Who Rich And Great By Past Rebellions Grew, And Long To Fish The Troubled Streams Anew. Some Future Hopes, Some Present Payment Draws, To Sell Their Conscience And Espouse The Cause. Such Stipends Those Vile Hirelings Best Befit, Priests Without Grace, And Poets Without Wit. Shall That False Hebronite Escape Our Curse, Judas, That Keeps The Rebels' Pension-Purse; Judas, That Pays The Treason-Writer'S Fee, Judas, That Well Deserves His Namesake'S Tree; Who At Jerusalem'S Own Gates Erects His College For A Nursery Of Sects; Young Prophets With An Early Care Secures, And With The Dung Of His Own Arts Manures! What Have The Men Of Hebron Here To Do? What Part In Israel'S Promised Land Have You? Here Phaleg The Lay-Hebronite Is Come, 'Cause Like The Rest He Could Not Live At Home; Who From His Own Possessions Could Not Drain An Omer Even Of Hebronitish Grain; Here Struts It Like A Patriot, And Talks High Of Injured Subjects, Alter'D Property: An Emblem Of That Buzzing Insect Just, That Mounts The Wheel, And Thinks She Raises Dust. Can Dry Bones Live? Or Skeletons Produce The Vital Warmth Of Cuckoldising Juice? Slim Phaleg Could, And At The Table Fed, Return'D The Grateful Product To The Bed. A Waiting-Man To Travelling Nobles Chose, He His Own Laws Would Saucily Impose, Till Bastinadoed Back Again He Went, To Learn Those Manners He To Teach Was Sent. Chastised He Ought To Have Retreated Home, But He Reads Politics To Absalom. For Never Hebronite, Though Kick'D And Scorn'D, To His Own Country Willingly Return'D. --But Leaving Famish'D Phaleg To Be Fed, And To Talk Treason For His Daily Bread, Let Hebron, Nay Let Hell, Produce A Man So Made For Mischief As Ben-Jochanan. A Jew Of Humble Parentage Was He, By Trade A Levite, Though Of Low Degree: His Pride No Higher Than The Desk Aspired, But For The Drudgery Of Priests Was Hired To Read And Pray In Linen Ephod Brave, And Pick Up Single Shekels From The Grave. Married At Last, But Finding Charge Com