Poetical Reflections ON A LATE POEM ENTITLED, Absalon and Achitophel. By a Person of Honour.  
LONDON: Printed for Richard janeway. 1681.   

TO THE READER.  
IF ever any thing, called a Poem, deserved a severe Reflection, that of Absalon and Achitophel may justly contract it. For tho' Lines can never be purged 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 public reproach); yet the cleansing of their fames from a designed pollution, may well become a more ingenious Pen than the Author of these few reflections will presume to challenge.  
To epitomise 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 contrived 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 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 Traitor, or what a Subject of most ambitious evil can possibly comprehend: and it is some wonder, that his Lines also had not hanged him on a Tree, to make the intended Ahsalom more complete.  
As to my Lord Shaftsbury (in his collusive Achitophel), what does he other than exceed Malice itself? or that the more prudent deserts of that Peer were to be so impeached beforehand by his impious Poem, as that he might be granted more emphatically condign of the Hangman's Axe; And which his Muse does in effect take upon her to hasten.  
And if the season be well observed, when this Adulterate Poem was spread, it will be found purposely divulged near the time when this Lord, with his other Noble Partner, were to be brought to their Trials. And I suppose this Poet thought himself enough assured of their condemnation; at least, that his Genius had not otherwise ventured 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.  
And some are not a little mistaken in their judgements of persons, if any Kingdom has at this time Two men of their Dignity, of more extraordinary Understandings: Which may (if well considered) be some inducement to their future preservation and esteem. As I have endeavoured chiefly to clear their abuse, so I have passed 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 touched, 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 admired 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 discovered, and may be purchased per Centum, according to modern example.  
As to the Charactet 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 squeezed into Paint, that his soul is seen in spite of the Varnish.  
And none will deny, but it is as easy to send Truth backward, as it is to spur Falsities egregiously forward, and might have caused any Ass, as knowing as Balaam's, to have rebuked such a Poet as will needs prophesy 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 offered 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 POEM, CALLED Absalon and Achitophel.  
WHen late Protectorship was Canon-Proof,  
And Cap-a-pe had seized on Whitehall-Roof.  
And next, on Israelites durst look so big,  
That Tory-like, it loved not much the Whig:  
A Poet there starts up, of wondrous Fame;  
Whether Scribe or Pharisee, his Race doth name,  
Or more t'intrigue the Metaphor of Man,  
Got on a Muse by Father-Publican: 
A Committee-Man.   
For 'tis not harder much, if we tax Nature,  
That Lines should give a Poet such a Feature;  
Than that his Verse a Hero should us show, 
Sir Denzill Hollis seeks annus mirabilis.   
Produced 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,  
When he within the Royal Palace dwelled,  
And saw 'twas of import if Lines could bring  
His Greatness from Usurper, 
See his Poem on Cromwell.  to be King:  
Or varnish so his Praise, that little odds  
Should seem 'twixt him, and such called Earthly Gods.  
And though 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 Coin, 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 notched his Sconce just level with his Ear.  
An Emblem in these days of much import,  
When Crop-eared 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 dispense,  
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.  
We'll tell you how his Court he now doth make,  
And what choice Things and Persons he doth take,  
That Lines for Guinnys might more liquorish speak.  
To heigten which we'll to his Muse advance,  
Which late discovered its judaic Trance:  
Where Absalon's in English Colours died,  
That in a Duke, a Traitor might be spied.  
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 victim by some Sacrificers dressed,  
Must fall adorned, which then they pity least.  
But fear not Monmouth, if a Libel's quill,  
Would dregs of Venom on thy Virtue spill;  
Since no desert so smoothly is conveyed,  
As next its Fame, no cankered Patch is laid;  
Thou didst no Honour seek, but what's thy due,  
And such Heaven bids thee not relinquish too.  
Whilst its Impressions so obliged thy Task,  
As leave from Earth thy Soul declined to ask.  
If this thy Error were, what Influ'nce can  
Excuse the Duty of more wilful Man;  
With such whose Figures show that squinting Paint,  
Whence peeps a Mongrel 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 surpassed on Heaven's Account;  
And if th' Ambition would in this excel,  
'Twas but to be more great in doing well;  
And must rebate the worst that Fates intent,  
Whilst Heaven and England is at once thy Friend.  
This just Encomium, though too brief it be  
To represent thy least Epitome;  
And but unto thy larger Figure joined,  
As small proportions are from great designed;  
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 Allegoric Way,  
Men falsely figured, to the world convey,  
Libels the enormous Forgery of sense,  
Stamped on the brow of human Impudence;  
The blackest wound of Merit, and the Dart,  
That secret Envy points against Desert.  
The lust of Hatred pandered to the Eye  
T'allure the World's debauching by a Lie.  
Th'rancorous Favourite's masquerading Gild,  
Imbitt'ring venom where he'd have it spilt.  
The Court's depression in a fulsome 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, though no Rabbi, thought in Hebrew wit,  
He forced Allusions can closely fit.  
To jews or English, much unknown before,  
He made a Talmud on his Muse's score;  
Though hoped few Critics will its Genius carp,  
So purely Metaphors King David's Harp,  
And by a soft Encomium, near at hand,  
Shows Bathsheba Embraced throughout the Land.  
But this Judaic Paraphrastick Sport  
We'll leave unto the riddling Smile of Court.  
Good Heaven! What timeful Pains can Rhymers take,  
When they'd for Crowds of Men much Penplot make?  
Which long-beaked Tales and filched 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 dipped in Winifred's Well;  
And open his Budget, like Pandora's Box,  
Whence Overt-acts more Protestants should Pox,  
Which might the joiner's Ghost provoke to rise,  
And fright such Tales with other Popish Lies?  
But Star'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 hoped, can aid,  
So well by Oaths the Devil's already paid;  
And most suppose, if e'er both Plots can die,  
Or eat up one another's Perjury,  
'Twould Pluto strangely pose to find a Third,  
Sold he in his a Popish Legion Lard.  
A Policy some Poems much embrace,  
As is discerned 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 produced, the World might know,  
She others did with drooping Thought bestow.  
As in Man's 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 complete,  
And place them so, for Mankind's good, that they  
Are fit to Guide, where others miss their Way;  
It being in Worldly Politics less Great  
To be a Lawmaker, than Preserve a State.  
In Public 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 increase;  
Whilst other Prospects, by mistaking Fate,  
Through wrong Preventions, more its Bad dilate.  
Whence some their Counter-Politicks extend▪  
To ruin such can Evils best amend.  
A Thwarting Genius, which our Nation more  
Than all its headstrong Evils does deplore;  
And shows what violent Movements such inform,  
That where a Calm should be, they force a Storm;  
As if their Safety chiefly they must prise  
In being rid of Men esteemed more Wise.  
To this Great, Little Man, we'll Tother join,  
Held Sufferers by one Tripartite Design.  
As from a Cubick Power, or threefold 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 deposed, before away they run;  
All which was well discerned by numerous Sense,  
Before the Doctor's pied Intelligence,  
Who, with some Motley Lawyers, took much care  
To gain the Caput of this Knowing Peer;  
When after so much Noise, and nothing proved,  
Heaven thanked, to Freedom he's at last removed,  
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-prerogatived should spell.  
But these are Thoughts may fit some Pensive Skulls,  
Or Men concerned to bait their several Bulls;  
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,  
Judgement sublimed, with all its strong Deserts;  
A Sense above Occasions quick surprise,  
That he no Study needs to make him Wise,  
Or laboured Thoughts, that trains of Sinews knit,  
His Judgement always twined unto his Wit;  
That from his clear Discussions Men may know  
He does to wonder other Brains outdo.  
Whilst they for Notions search they can't compact,  
His Genius fitly stands prepared to act.  
Admired 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 Prince's 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 Sceptres see  
Eclipsed in his more soft Felicity;  
Whose Goodness can all Stress of State remove,  
So fitly owned the Subjects Fear and Love.  
My Verse might here discharge its hasty Flight,  
As Pencils that attempt Immortal Height  
Droop in the Colours should convey its Light,  
Did not this Poet's Lines upon me call  
For some Reflections on a Lower Fall;  
Where he by Rhyming, a judaic Shame,  
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 struck such Figures as give down their Pence;  
A Crime for which some Poet's Lines so stretch,  
As on themselves they Metaphor jack Catch.  
Tho small the Varnish is to Humane Name,  
Where Cogging Measures rob the truth of Fame.  
And more to do his skewed Encomiums right,  
Some Persons speak by him their motley Sight:  
Or much like Hudibras, on Wit's pretence,  
Some Lines for Rhyme, and some to jingle 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 oddly joyn`d.  
What else could Adriell`s sharpness more abuse,  
Than headlong dubb`d, to own himself a Muse,  
Unless to spread Poetic 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' Style.  
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 busy Fears still forward press;  
As 'tis Ambitions oft-deluding Cheat  
To tempt men's 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.  
The Him indeed of his own 
* See his, p. 27.  Western Dome,  
So near his praiseful Poet Sense may come:  
For 
* See his, p. 28.  Amiell, Amiell, who cannot indite  
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 Precedents.  
The Him of Hims, although in Judgement 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 Foreign Shore,  
Or what Designs Ambassadors contrive,  
Or how the Faithless French their Compass guide:  
But Lines the busy World too much supply,  
Besides th' Effects of evil Poetry,  
Which much to Tory- Writers some ascribe,  
Though hoped 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.