Ter Mood, The Humorous And The Gay (As Crown'D With Roses At Their Feasts They Lay) Sent The Full Goblet Charged With Abra'S Name, And Charms Superior To The Master'S Fame. Laughing, Some Praise The King, Who Let Them See How Aptly Luxe And Empire Might Agree: Some Gloss'D How Love And Wisdom Were At Strife, And Brought My Proverbs To Confront My Life. However, Friend, Here'S To The King, One Cries To Him Who Was The King, The Friend Replies. The King, For Judah'S And For Wisdom'S Curse To Abra Yields; Could I Or Thou Do Worse? Our Looser Lives Let Chance Or Folly Steer, If Thus The Prudent And Determined Err. Let Dinah Bind With Flowers Her Flowing Hair, And Touch The Lute And Sound The Wanton Air, Let Us The Bliss Without The Sting Receive, Free As We Will Or To Enjoy Or Leave. Pleasures On Levity'S Smooth Surface Flow; Thought Brings The Weight That Sinks The Soul To Wo. Now Be This Maxim To The King Convey'D, And Added To The Thousand He Has Made. Sadly, O Reason, Is Thy Power Express'D, Thou Gloomy Tyrant Of The Frighted Beast! And Harsh The Rules Which We Fom Thee Receive, If For Our Wisdom We Our Pleasure Give, And More To Think Be Only More To Grieve: If Judah'S King, At Thy Tribunal Tried, Forsakes His Joy To Vindicate His Pride, And, Changing Sorrows, I Am Only Found Loosed From The Chains Of Love, In Thine More Strictly Bound. But Do I Call Thee Tyrant, Or Complain How Hard Thy Laws, How Absolute Thy Reign? While Thou, Alas! Art But An Empty Name, To No Two Men Who E'Er Discoursed The Same; The Idle Product Of A Troubled Thought, In Borrow'D Shapes And Airy Colours Wrought, A Fancied Line, And A Reflected Shade; A Chain Which Man To Fetter Man Has Made, By Artifice Imposed, By Fear Obey'D. Yet, Wretched Name, Or Arbitrary Thing, Whence-Ever I Thy Cruel Essence Bring, I Own Thy Influence, For I Feel Thy Sting. Reluctant I Perceive Thee In My Soul, Form'D To Command, And Destind To Control, Yes, Thy Insulting Dictates Shall Be Heard; Virtue For Once Shall Be Her Own Reward: Yes, Rebel Israel, This Unhappy Maid Shall Be Dismiss'D; The Crowd Shall Be Obey'D: The King His Passion And His Rule Shall Leave, No Longer Abra'S But The People'S Slave: My Coward Soul Shall Bear Its Wayward Fate; I Will, Alas! Be Wretched To Be Great, And Sigh In Royalty, And Grieve In State. I Said, Resolved To Plunge Into My Grief At Once, So Far As To Expect Relief From My Despair Alone, ? To Her I Loved, Toher I Must Forsake. How Inconsistent Majesty And Love. I Always Should, It Said, Esteem Her Well, But Never See Her More: It Bid Her Feel No Future Pain For Me; But Instant Wed A Lover More Proportion'D To Her Bed, And Quiet Dedicate Her Remnant Life To The Just Duties Of An Humble Wife. She Read, And Forth To Me She Wildly Ran, To Me, The Ease Of All Her Former Pain. She Kneel'D, Entreated, Struggled, Threaten'D, Cried, And With Alternate Passion Lived And Died; Till Now Denied The Liberty To Mourn, And By Rude Fury From My Presence Torn, This Only Object Of My Real Care Cut Off From Hope, Abandon'D To Despair, In Some Few Posting Fatal Hours Is Hurl'D From Wealth, From Power, From Love, And From The World. Here Tell Me, If Thou Darest, My Conscious Soul, What Different Sorrows Did Within Thee Roll? What Pangs, What Fires, What Racks, Did Thou Sustain? What Sad Vicissitudes Of Smarting Pain? How Oft From Pomp And State Did I Remove, To Feed Despair, And Cherish Hopeless Love? How Oft All Day Recall'D I Abra'S Charms, Her Beauties Press'D, And Panting In My Arms? How Oft With Sighs View'D Every Female Face Where Mimic Fancy Might Her Likeness Trace? How Oft Desired To Fly From Isreal'S Throne, And Live In Shades With Her And Love Alone? How Oft All Night Pursued Her In My Dreams, O'Er Flowery Valleys And Through Crystal Streams, And Waking, View'D With Grief The Rising Sun, And Fondly Mourn'D The Dear Delusion Gone? When Thus The Gather'D Storms Of Wretched Love In My Swollen Bosom With Long War Had Strove, At Length They Broke Their Bounds; At Length Their Force Bore Down Whatever Met Its Stronger Course; Laid All The Civil Bonds Of Manhood Waste, And Scatter'D Ruin As The Torrent Pass'D. So From The Hills, Whose Hollow Caves Contain The Congregated Snow And Swelling Rain, Till The Full Stores Their Ancient Bounds Disdain, Precipitate The Furious Torrent Flows: In Vain Would Speed Avoid Or Strength Oppose: Towns, Forests, Herds, And Men, Promiscuous Drown'D, With One Great Death Deform The Dreary Ground; The Echoed Woes From Distant Rocks Resound. And Now What Impious Ways, My Wishes Took, How They The Monarch And The Man Forsook, And How I Follow'D An Abandon'D Will Through Crooked Paths And Sad Retreats Of Ill; By Turns My Prostituted Bed Receives, Through Tribes Of Women How I Loosely Ranged Impatient, Liked To-Night, To-Morrow Changed, And By The Instinct Of Capricious Lust Enjoy'D, Disdain'D, Was Grateful Or Unjust; O, Be These Scenes From Human Eyes Conceal'D, In Clouds Of Decent Silence Justly Veil'D! O, Be The Wanton Images Convey'D To Black Oblivion And Eternal Shade! Or Let Their Sad Epitome Alone And Outward Lines To Future Ages Be Known, Enough To Propagate The Sure Belief That Vice Engenders Shame, And Folly Broods O'Er Grief. Buried In Sloth And Lost In Ease I Lay; The Night I Revell'D, And I Slept The Day. New Heaps Of Fuel Damp'D My Kindling Fires, And Daily Change Extinguish'D Young Desires, By Its Own Force Destroy'D, Fruition Ceased; And Always Wearied, I Was Never Pleased. No Longer Now Does My Neglected Mind Its Wonted Stores And Old Ideas Find. Fix'D Judgement There No Longer Does Abide To Take The True Or Set The False Aside, No Longer Does Swift Memory Trace The Cells Where Springing Wit Or Young Invention Dwells, Frequent Debauch To Habitude Prevails; Patience Of Toil And Love Of Virtue Fails. By Sad Degrees Impair'D My Vigour Dies, Till I Command No Longer E'En In Vice. The Women On My Dotage Build Their Sway: In Regal Garments Now I Gravely Stride, Awed By The Persian Damsels' Haughty Pride; Now With The Looser Syrian Dance And Sing, In Robes Tuck'D Up, Opprobrious To The King. Charm'D By Their Eyes, Their Manners I Acquire, And Shape My Foolishness To Their Desire; Seduced And Awed By The Philistine Dame, At Dagon'S Shrine I Kindle Impious Flame. With The Chaldean'S Charms Her Rites Prevail, And Curling Frankincense Ascends To Baal. To Each New Harlot I New Altars Dress, And Serve Her God Whose Person I Caress. Where, My Deluded Sense, Was Reason Flown? Where The High Majesty Of David'S Throne? Where All The Maxims Of Eternal Truth, With Which The Living God Inform'D My Youth, When With The Lewd Egyptian I Adore Vain Idols, Deities That Ne'er Before In Isreal'S Land Had Fix'D Their Dire Abodes, Beastly Divinities, And Droves Of Gods; Osiris, Apis, Powers That Chew The Cud, And Dog Anubis, Flatterer For His Food? When In The Woody Hill'S Forbidden Shade I Carved The Marble And Invoked Its Aid: When In The Fens To Snake And Flies, With Zeal Unworthy Human Thought, I Prostrate Fell; To Shrubs And Plants My Vile Devotion Paid, And Set The Bearded Leek To Which I Pray'D; When To All Beings Sacred Rites Were Given, Forgot The Arbiter Of Earth And Heaven? Through These Sad Shades, This Chaos In My Soul, Some Seeds Of Light At Length Began To Roll: The Rising Motion Of An Infant Ray Shot Glimmering Through The Cloud, And Promised Day. And Now One Moment Able To Reflect, I Found The King Abandon'D To Neglect, Seen Without Awe, And Served Without Respect. I Found My Subjects Amicably Join To Lessen Their Defects By Citing Mine. The Priest With Pity Prays For David'S Race, And Left His Text To Dwell On My Disgrace. The Father, Whilst He Warn'D His Erring Son, The Sad Examples Which He Ought To Shun, Described, And Only Named Not, Solomon. Each Bard, Each Sire, Did To His Pupil Sing, A Wise Child Better Than A Foolish King. Into Myself My Reason'S Eye I Turn'D, And As I Much Reflected Much I Mourn'D. A Mighty King I Am, An Earthly God; Nations Obey My Word And Wait My Nod: I Raise Or Sink, Imprison Or Set Free, And Life Or Death, Depends On My Decree. Fond Of The Idea, And The Thought Is Vain; O'Er Judah'S King Ten Thousand Tyrants Reign, Legions Of Lust And Various Powers Of Ill Insult The Master'S Tributary Will; And He From Whom The Nations Should Receive Justice And Freedom, Lies Himself A Slave, Tortured By Cruel Change Of Wild Desires, Lash'D By Mad Rage, And Scorch'D By Brutal Fires. O Reason! Once Again To Thee I Call; Accept My Sorrow And Retrieve My Fall. Wisdom, Thou Say'St, From Heaven Received Her Birth, Her Beams Transmitted To The Subject Earth: Yet Thi Great Empress Of The Human Soul Does Only With The Imagined Power Control, If Restless Passion, By Rebellious Sway, Compels The Weak Usurper To Obey. O Troubled, Weak, And Coward, As Thou Art, Without Thy Poor Advice The Labouring Heart To Worse Extremes With Swifter Steps Would Run, Not Saved By Virtue, Yet Vice Undone. Oft Have I Said, The Praise Of Doing Well Is To The Ear As Ointment To The Smell. Now If Some Flies Perchance, However Small, Into The Alabaster Urn Should Fall, The Odours Of The Sweets Enclosed Would Die, And Stench Corrupt (Sad Change) Their Place Supply: So The Least Faults, If Mixed With Fairest Deed, Of Future Ill Become The Fatal Seed; Into The Balm Of Purest Virtue Cast, Annoy All Life With One Contagious Blast. Lost Solomon! Pursue This Thought No More; Of Thy Past Errors Recollect The Store; And Silent Weep, That While The Deathless Muse Shall Sing The Just, Shall O'Er Their Head Diffuse Perfumes With Lavish Hand, She Shall Proclaim Thy Crimes Alone, And To Thy Evil Fame Impartial, Scatter Damps And Poisons On Thy Name. Awaking Therefore, As Who Long Had Dream'D, Much Of My Women And Their Gods Ashamed, From This Abyss Of Exemplary Vice Resolved, As Time Might Aid My Thought, To Rise, Again I Bid The Mournful Goddess Write Of Human Hope By Cross Event Destroy'D, Of Useless Wealth And Greatness Enjoy'D; Of Lust And Love, With Their Fantastic Train, Their Wishes, Smiles, And Looks, Deceitful All And Vain.