BERSABA: OR, THE Love of David. A POEM. Written by Samuel Cobb, Student of Trinity College, Cambridge. Improbe Amor! quid non mortalia pectora cogis? Virg. Aen. l. 4. LONDON, Printed and are to be Sold by J. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall, 1695. THE PREFACE. IT may look like Presumption, perhaps, to appear again in public, after such ill success, such a fearful Engagement, and such dangerous Enemies, who resolve to draw upon an Author, whatever he be, and fly at him openmouth, like a Pack of Irish Wolves barking at the Moon; who think that Man happiest that strikes deepest; who, because they have no Wit themselves, will not allow any in others. This, one would think, were enough to deter a young Scribbler, from ever after engaging himself in a Poetical Quarrel. But our Authors for the most the part, have 〈…〉 Hydra's Heads, cut one off, another presently rises in the roo 〈…〉 of it; these, like Benito in the Play, tho' kicked and cuffed, are 〈…〉 resolved to scrape on, and suffer heroically. They are not now-●days awed formidine fustis; when they are once in the humour writing, their Natures are invincible, and can no more be expel than the English can leave Fight after the first Engagement, than an unlucky Gamester can forbear Playing, when he has lost round sum of Money. Since then this wicked Custom has gain 〈◊〉 so much strength upon the World; since Fools and Blockheads, like, Logs, will Swim uppermost; since every paltry Apprentice that has read a few Plays, sets up for an Author; since these, I say, take the Privilege of writing, I am resolved not to stand out, but make one for Company's sake; if I am laughed at, it will be a comfort to have Companions; for tho' some good natured Persons (I can't tell what to call them) have snapped at me once already, yet I cannot give over for my Life, I must on: Ecce iterum Crispinus, I am come once more to furnish matter for their senseless Lampoons: make bold to use the Impudence of a Player, who will appear up●● the Stage, though hist first off an hundred times. But I must ●eg the Favour of them not to debarr me the liberty of Prefacing, ●●r that is the Colours which our Company is known by; and 'tis as great a rarity nowadays to see a Poet without a Preface, as a Spaniard without his Cloak and Sword: With this he covers his Faults, and defends them at the same time. Here I must digress a little from my purpose (for it is grown a modern Vice to amuse the Reader with Chriticisms upon the Ancients, and tell him strange things, nothing to the Subject that lies before him: And when one has made a few Poems, to write in the Preface how far we've outgone the French and Italian in advancing Tragedies and Comedies:) I must hamour the Age, and ●se these digressions for Custom's sake; but more particularly by ●eason of a late Ode of mine upon the Queen's death, which came ●ut under the name of J. D. Gent. which made such a Noise ●road, and which an ingenious Gentleman bestowed a few Reflecti●●s upon: I am not in the least ashamed of what he says, but slight ●im more than the Mastiff did a little barking Cur, when he ●●ew'd him his Teeth, and pissed upon him. However I think my ●●●f obliged in a manner by the Laws of Nature to say something 〈◊〉 it; for there is no Man so inhuman who will not speak in de●●●ce of his own Offspring, when he finds it abused. Had I been the first that tried the severity of ignorant and en●●●us Men, I might with all justice imaginable have murmured 〈…〉 t my misfortune; but since others, and those of extraordinary 〈…〉 ote, have run through the same hazards, the same critical persecutions, I willingly submit myself, like a poetical Martyr, to ●heir tyrannic Fury, but with the constancy of an unjust Sufferer an laugh at their vain, insignificant, and harmless Blows, There are three things, I confess, which are to be utterly banished ●ur Commonwealth (for I will pretend to be a small Member of it) Blasphemy, Profaneness, and Obscenity. Wherever any of these meet in a Poem, we may call the sense Diseased, it can in no manner be Wit, however cleanly it be covered. For Obscenity Ovid was banished Rome, as appears by his own account in his second Book de Tristibus: His Elegies are somewhat Lascivious; ●or is his Imperial Poem free from those extravagant stories of Pasiphae and Myrrah; where the Subjects are so unaptly chosen, that they would not allow him to write chastely. Horace, whom we have ●n so great esteem, is licentious in this kind to an extremity, ●hiefly in his Satyrs, which he wrote not with an intention to ●ash Vice (as Juvenal did) but purposely to please himself. Homer we find leading his Women to Bed, but he says no more of them. Virgil, the best of all the others, wrote Love-passions with admirable Softness and Purity; considering that Poets are commonly too Luxuriant on those occasions. I need not name Cornelius Gallus, and many others: I will only descend to our Times: Mr. Cowley has some small taste of it in his Mistress, which he seems to be sensible of in his Preface. Much excess is to be allowed in Love, and even more in Poetry, so we avoid those two unpardonable Vices, Profaneness and Obscenity, which (says he) if I am Guilty of, they have ill represented my thoughts and intentions. Profaneness and Blasphemy commonly go together, and the Author of the Satyrs against the Jesuits seems to me, to be Guilty of all those three Vices. I don't mean to detract from the honour of the dead; but, as the most vulgar Persons are allowed to give their Vote, so I only speak my opinion, which, I am persuaded in this case no body will go about to contradict. As for Blasphemy, of which I was accused, I cannot but allow with Mr. Dryden, that the using of it is a kind of applying Pigeons to the Soles of the Feet, it proclaims their Fancy as well as Judgement to be in a desperate condition. This I say, because I have found the same immoderate liberty of Verse in others, as well as myself; and if the Supercilious Readers had examined them with the like strictness and impartiality, I am sure very few of them would have escaped the fire. I do not mean to tread in their steps; for the Ode was snatched from me so abruptly and unfortunately, that I could not gather time enough to consider what I had wrote. I found J. D. Gent. joined to it, of which I was wholly ignorant; for I scorn to do that injustice to another, in cloaking my Faults under his name; and on the other side I am so vain, that I would not let any one claim my Excellencies, (if I had any) but myself. Nevertheless those Men (who pretend to understand much) would certainly have been more mild and favourable, had they but considered the Licentiousness of Pindaric Poetry, which is a more exalted sort of Lyric, to which we are to allow more Digressions, more bold Metaphors and Allegories, than to any other Verse besides; which as few can understand, so few can write it well: Hear what Pindar speaks himself concerning it (for (as the Plain Dealer says) Authors love to show in the Preface that they understand Greek and Latin, for fear the Reader should not find it out by the Poem.) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: He writes to the Learned and Wise, and not to the Vulgar, who commonly correct what they cannot comprehend, therefore he compares them to Crows, (shadowing by that name, Bacchilides, (Schmidius says,) who was one of the same Wit and Learning as our pretended Critics are) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But lest I should be guilty of Pindarical Digression, I will return to the Argument that lies before me, though, I hope, I may stand excusable for what I've said, it being the Zeal of a Parent to its Children. Dorotheus, Bishop of Tyrus, (who lived in the Year 401,) and Epiphanius, relate the Story of David and Bathsheba after this manner; They tell us that Nathan (who lived in Gabaon a City near Rama) foresaw that David would Sin with Beersabea, (for so they call her,) and as he was coming to sorewarn David, Belial laid a dead Corpse in the way: Now it was counted a great part of Charity amongst the Jews to bury the Dead, as appears by the Book of Tobit: Nathan therefore fearing lest the Body should be unreverently torn by wild Beasts, buried it; in the mean time David lay with Bathsheba; Nathan two or three days after was sent to warn him of it. Whether it be true, or no, I will not dispute now, but it seems impoetical: Therefore Th●●dorus Beza has rejected it; and though I took the hint of 〈◊〉 Fancy from him, yet, I think, I may with as great Justice claim the whole Poem to be my own, as a Poet does a Play when he has taken the Plot from a Novel, or with more dexterity changes the Scene, by turning the French and Italian Comedies into English, and throws them upon the Stage for his own peculiar Wit and Invention. I have not followed my Author word for word, neither have I paraphrased him in his Sense, but have taken out what was too grave for Poetry, and have added some Fancies of my own; as at the latter end, where the Angel appears to Nathan in the shape of Samuel; and where Nathan tells the King a short story of Solomon and Christ. This way of Writing we took from Virgil; but, if I am not mistaken, we have improved the Thought. For some Learned Men think that Virgil is in a Fault, when he brings in Anchises relating to Aeneas the Chronicle of those that were yet unborn, who should proceed from his Son. They wonder how he should come to the knowledge of Futurity. They must either allow that he was a Prophet, when he was alive, and thou it wil● be probable; for the Ancients thought that Men do the same thing below, as they did above. See Horace, who makes mention 〈◊〉 Sapph and Alcaeus, as if they were the same Poets in Hell, a● they were on Earth. Aeoliis sidibus querentem Sapph Puellis de popularibus, etc. Od. 13. l. 2. If this cannot be proved of Anchises, we must run to Pythagoras his Transmigration, and Plato's Phaedo, who thought that the Souls of Men informed several Bodies, and went out of one into another: Then it will be no wonder if Anchisos tells his Son what Persons shall come after, since their Souls were predestinated for them below. But we never follow this. Mr. Dryden ●s more exact in the Conquest of Granada, where, in the Second Part, he brings in the Ghost of Almansor' s Mother, warning him of his future Love; yet she knew not this as her being a Ghoct, but an Angel bids her go and forewarn her Son, who wandered about ignorant, of his Parentage. Then from the Battlements of heavens high Tower A Watchman Angel bid me wait this Hour; And told me that I had a Task assigned, To warn the little Pledge I left behind. Spenser, who first led us the way in English, supposes Merlin to tell Britomart, his Virgin-Hero, the Progeny of the Kings and Princes which should spring from her and Arthegal. Milton follows his footsteps; but he could not bring in a Prophet since there were but two Persons upon Earth; therefore an Angel appears to Adam, and comforts him with the Promised Seed. Cowley makes David dream of his Race, and an Angel confirm the truth of it, when he awakes. Though Dreams were held of old a kind of Prophecy, though God was sometimes pleased to reveal his. Will in that manner, and foreshow the Fates of Kingdoms, the various Changes of Empires, and things to come, as is manifested from Pharaoh, Joseph, and Daniel; yet it would not have been according to the Rules of Poetry, to have made David dream of all his Successors, and his Race for a thousand Years together, had not some Diviner Being ordered the Vision wisely, and appeared afterward to persuade him in the certainty of it; for in those days the Jews began to disbelieve the Sacredness of Dreams, thinking them to proceed from the multitude of Business: David himself thought so at first, That only 'twas wild Fancy's play, The loose and scattered relics of the Day. But the Poet showed his Skill by making Gabriel satisfy him. The Reason why we commonly bring in Angels or Prophets, when Futurity is to be mentioned, is this; we are to make improbabilities seem probable; for should we tell such strange things in our own Persons, without bringing a Muse, or the like to help us off, no body would believe us, notwithstanding our boasted Inspiration: For, says Homer, on such an occasion, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Iliad. ss. Which Virgil (Aen. 7.) follows, by invoking the Muses to tell him, Qui bello exciti reges, etc. Vos meministis enim, divae, & memorare potestis, Ad nos vix tenuis famae perlabitur aura. This Rule is constantly to be observed in an Epic Poem, whenever we have need for it. And we must likewise take notice, that if we have occasion for Angels, Devils, Furies, to forewarn, persuade, or counsel any one what to do, they must not appear in their proper shape, but in form of them, who are either loved, honoured or reverenced by those to whom they appear. Homer's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 appears to Agamemnon in his sleep, dressed in the likeness of Nestor, the chief and wisest of his Counsellors. But in his Third Iliad he seems to be inexcusable, where he brings in Venus like an old Spinning Woman of Lacedaemon, whom Helen loved: No sooner had this old Dame spoke, but Helen knew her to be Venus by her Eyes, her Neck, her Breast and every thing, which, in my Opinion, is a very odd kind of Change: We must nevertheless Reverence him as our Father, and give him leave aliquando dormitare, to sleep a little now and then. There are some such Changes in Virgil and Statius, which, seeing Mr. Cowley has taken notice of before, I will not meddle with. As for the Poem that lies before us, I suppose the Reader will find as smooth a run of Verse, as the Subject would allow, and very few Synalaepha ' s, which I endeavoured to avoid; for what grates the Ear more than the Sounding of one Vowel upon another? There might be more said concerning this, but we will rest a little, since the Author of the Dedicatory Preface to Examen Poeticum has discoursed enough of it. Now if after all, I find but a few Friends, I shall, like the Spartan, scorn an innumerable Army of Enemies; who if they are offended at my wretched Stuff now, I can tell no way to be revenged of them, than (as Sir John Denham has said before) by writing worse and worse the next time, which, I hope, will prove such a Punishment to them, that they will not dare to take up Arms against an Author, for fear of being knocked on the head with Nonsense and inhuman Dulness. Trinity College, Cambridge, August 3. 1695: S. Cobb. THE Love of David, &c Imitated from Theod. Beza. OF Deities, that Stock bright Heaven above, Or reign below, there's none so great as Love. Love through the gilded Firmament does fly, Commands the Gods, and Lords it in the Sky Love does on Earth his beauteous Empires keep, And makes his Voyage through the boundless Deep. With sweet Contagion he corrupts the Mind, Harmfully fair, and dangerously kind. As through the Nations of the World he flew, And smiling Ills in every Kingdom blew: At last to Judah's Sacred towers he came, Judah! Immortal as its glorious Name. There great Jessides he with Envy viewed, Whom nor his Darts had pierced, nor Charms subdued. And well he knew, that from his Loins should flow A sure Destruction to the Powers below, In whom Hell suffered harder than before, And doubled Pains th' Infernal Tyrants bore, Greater than those, when impiously bold They fell from the resisted Sky of old. remembering this, Am I, (said he,) whom none (Tho' thousands) could subdue, subdued by One? The growing World I, like a Conqueror, swayed, Me Adam, Father of Mankind, obeyed. These Darts (my only praise) did once engage, Fierce Men, with these I tamed a barbarous Age. 〈…〉 drew the Deluge from the wondering Sea, The Watery Battle was engaged by Me. The well-built, lofty Babylonian Tower, And Murdered Ninus testify my Power. By Me, in flames Incestuous Sodom fried, When Burnings hotter than her own she tried. By Me, to Troy the Grecian Navy sailed, And Perjured Priam's Sacred Palace scaled. Hector untimely to the Shades did go, ●●glorious Armies followed him below. With Heathen Beauty I fond Samson slew, (For Me, what will not beauteous Woman do?) Isr'el's vast Champion a full Harvest reaped, And Piles on Piles, Trophies on Trophies heaped. ●or many Miles torn Heroes choked the Way, ●ike Hills on Hills dismembered Gathites lay. Him I subdued; nor stopped I there, till He Bent at my Virtue, and was blind like Me. Nor shall you scape, Jessides; tho' you shine ●n Judah's Palace, all the World is mine. Arrows and Darts instead of Stones I'll throw, Command thy Sling, and I'll command my Bow. Thus spoke the God. At this enraged he grew, And from the Top of Judah's Temple slew. A Golden Bow he on his Shoulders wore, A Quiver full of pointed Deaths he bore. Then spreading round his Eye, unseen, at last He viewed the fair Bersaba, as he passed. Tho' Sacred Judah's Beauties were Divine, The fair Bersaba, like the Moon, did shine Among th' inferior Stars: So beauteous she; But, ripe for Man, now might a Mother be. Even Love himself admired her won'drous shape, And she might well fear an Immortal Rape. With Gods and Goddesses she might compare, For Gods and Goddesses were not so fair, No spot, no blemish in her Face was seen, Clear as the Morn, and as the Sky, Serene. So bright, so goodly her Complexion shone, As if some Angel drew it by his own. And in her Eyes did thousand Graces play, Like sparkling Stars that gilled the Milky Way. Here pointed Flames with cheerful Light did strive, Able to Murder Mortals and revive. But ah! What Pencil can describe, or show The radiant Honours of her spacious Brow? Here on her Neck in Curls soft Tresses rolled, Her Neck, like Ivory, and her Hair, like Gold. Smooth, but more warm than Ice, her Breasts did show, Whiter than Marble, but more soft than Snow. The God admired the Virtues of her Face, Beauty contending with Majestic Grace. I'll cast, said he, my useless Bow away, There will I sit, there I delight to play. My Arms no more shall wound unguarded Hearts, Far hence my Quiver and my idle Darts. Under the shadow of her bending Brow I'll place myself, and use it for my Bow, Whilst every glance proceeding from her Eye, My want of pointed Arrows shall supply. Thence will I shoot, some Martial Hero tame, I'll use my Skill, and they shall use their Flame. He spoke; and clothed himself with subtle Air, No Bow, no Darts, no Quiver did he bear. To bright Bersaba bodied thus he flies, And shoots himself by stealth into her Eyes. The bright Bersaba felt him as he came, Her rolling Eyes dart forth an amorous flame. Her Heart strait blushes with a secret Fire, Her wanton Breast glows with a new Desire. She tries all Arts that Woman's Wit can find, And only Love fills now her labouring mind. Sometimes her Curls on her soft Forehead play, And here and there in various rollings stray. Sometimes she seems her rising Breasts to chide, And all the Riches of her Bosom hide. Sometimes her Neck she openly displays. And a fair Goddess by her Form betrays. But in her Garden when to bathe she goes, And all around her naked Beauty shows, Undressed so lovely, and so beauteous she, Looks like a Venus rising from the Sea. There stood a Tower, where Kings did oft repair, To slacken and unbend Imperial Care. From whence Jessides saw Bersaba's Charms, Jessides, famed for Valour and for Arms. Oft, like some Godlike Hero, would he fight, And his own Conquests in high Verses write. Scarce could one know in which he did excel, So bravely would he Fight, and Sing so well. But Love impartial and as bold as Fate, Love always dangerous to the Good and Great. With subtle strength Heroic Souls does pierce, No Brazen Castles can resist his force. Jessides saw, (caught in an amorous Chain,) The naked Beauty: (could the Gods refrain?) Through every part his rolling Eyeballs rove, And pry into the Labyrinths of Love. His Looks the Passion of his Heart betray, The Royal Lover melts insensibly away: At last overwhelmed with a vast tide of flame, Which from her Eyes, like darted Lightning, came. So when we gaze on the Sun's glorious Light, Our Eyes straight faint and sicken at the sight. Now David yields, he lays his Sceptre down, Forgets himself, and does his God disown. His Songs now heathen and rebellious prove, No more he vies with Seraphims above; No more of Wonders and of Heaven he sings, Love tunes his Heart, to Love he tunes his Strings: He Courts with Passion; (what can Woman do When Kings turn Lovers, and when Monarches sue?) Within his Breast he feeds immodest fires, Till the kind She consents to his desires; She thinks it brave t'enjoy an amorous King, And the Great Author licenses the Sin. But now her teeming Womb to swell began, And God's bright Image lengthens into Man. When Judah's Monarch fears impartial Fame, For tho' he loves the Crime, he hates the Name. Remarked adultery seems an odious thing, And Whoredom's more apparent in a King. Now Israel's Sons, whom Ammon had opposed▪ Laid Siege on Rabbah, and her Walls enclosed; Where Just Urias, for his Valour known, Fought for his Country's Honour, and his own; Defended Judah's Right, and Judah's Lord, And wrote his Monarch's Title with his Sword; Abroad he roamed; him Camps and Arms did please, Whilst David wantoned in domstick ease. But now he's sent for, and must haste away, Leave all his Armies, and his Warlike play: He comes; and David with a feigned embrace, A seeming Kindness, and dissembled Face, Salutes the General, and to know desires Much of his Troops, of Joab much inquires. Th' unhappy innocent Man begins to show Th' Events of War, th' Advantage of the Foe. Tells what their Forces, what their Numbers were, The Deaths of all; nor thought his own so near. At the King's Table royally he Dines, And drinks of Noble Arnon's costly Wines: But David, fearing that all Isr'el knew Those Crimes, which he alone was privy to, Resolves the Good, the righteous, and the Just, Shall fall a Victim to his royal Lust; No fear of Judgement can his Mind reclaim, He dreams of Thunder as an idle Name. 'Twas now the time when Night's prevailing shade, And grateful Darkness did the World invade; All Nature sleeps; Birds to their Nests repair, Nor longer Murmur through the dusky Air. Beasts lie extended on their hollow Beds, And drowsy Cedars nod their leafy Heads. Even Storms are silent, and loud Tempests sleep, Whale's slumber in the Chambers of the Deep. Yet wakeful David can enjoy no rest, Whilst various Thoughts disturb his anxious Breast. All Night his Mind's employed the Just to kill, Who feared no danger, for he knew no ill. At last th' Inhuman bloody King designs His Fall, and writes his Death in fatal Lines. Soon as the Morning did her Beams display, And blushing, gave the Signals of the Day: With joyful haste the brave Urias went, Bearing his Sentence to great Joab's Tent; He goes, but straight lies mingled with the slain Of val'ant Thousands stretched upon the Plain; The cloud of Death o'ercasts his glimmering Eyes, His bleeding Ghost sinks downward to the Skies. This did the Father of the Gods behold, And (far as an Immortal Being could) Did blush. Red Thunder in his Hand he bore, The Thunder too looked redder than before; Whilst David scorned his mighty Friend above, And bartered Judah for unkingly Love, Chaffered his Empire for a soft Embrace, Yielding his Glories to a Female Face. Whilst in the Front too Just Urias stood, And died Philistian Arrows with his Blood, God laid aside his pity and his love: Almighty Grief with doubtful Anger strove. The wide Fxpansion trembled all around, And distant Stars did horribly resound. The dreadful Echo through heavens Court did sly, And frightened the winged People of the Sky. Here trembling Angels gathered to inquire The grounds and causes of this sudden fire; From whence the stir and heavenly Tumult rose, Or whom the Father for his Rage had chose; Whether some haughty, headstrong Seraphs dare To storm the Sky, and cope the Thunderer: Whether on Earth his lightning will be hurled, And ravel the fine Clockwork of the World. Or if th' Immortal Citizens of Heaven Should from their ancient, native Seats be driven; For they remembered well, what God of old, When first he built the mighty Globe, foretold How Earth to Nothing should at last retire, And heavens high Fabric in the Flames expire. Above the Clouds, where the Sun's golden face Ne'er looks, nor Cynthia casts imperfect Rays, There is a Place of purest hallowed Light, Painted with Stars, marked with Eternal White, (Whether it comes from Souls, who knew no sin, Or be the Shadow of the Light within) Which leads the way to God's aetherial Throne, By all heavens Peers and common People known. Here reigns th' Almighty, and from hence surveys The subject Earth, wide Lands, and swelling Seas; Him, King of Men, and Father of the Gods, Stars, Earth obey, and tremble when he Nods. Here from each part and corner of the Sky, With nimble Wings affrighted Cherubs fly. When the grand Silence thus th' Almighty broke, And, shaking his Immortal Head, he spoke; Are we despised? is all our Thunder vain? And is it nothing in the Skies to reign? Nothing to be a God?— I with my Power command the World below, I teach the Waves to roar, and Winds to blow. Me, when I Thunder, all the Globe shall hear, And Man's rebellious Offspring learn to fear; O'er Birds, o'er Beasts he rules, o'er all the fry Of Fishes Sailing through the Liquid Sky. Him the large Monsters of the Deep obey, But He more Monstrous, more unkind than they: I gave him Freedom, and a Soul Divine, In every Limb a stroke of Heaven does shine; These Public Gifts I equally did share, Wide as the World, nor was I partial there; I Abr'ham's Seed distinguished from the rest, Abr'ham! the care and darling of my Breast. ay, pitying, set his Murmuring Children free From Egypt, and ignoble Slavery. I Pharaoh, (for ye all remember) slew, Him my strong Arm did through the Floods pursue; The gazing Waters wondered as he road, Whilst Isr'el safely the sure bottom trod: Th' unjointed Sea forgot his wont force, And loosened Nature did withdraw her Course; You know how oft I've left th' Aetherial Tower, (So much my Love prevailed upon my Power) Divided Jordan's silver Streams can show, I spoke, divided Jordan ceased to flow: Witness the Ruler of the Day, the Sun, Who stopped his Race; witness the Seed of Nun, Ordained by us for thousand Years before, To lengthen Isr'el, and enlarge its shore; Witness those Kings thrust from their native Ground, And Cities conquered with a Trumpet's sound. Even David, that ungracious King, can show, To whom I gave all that a God could do; All that a greedy Monarch can require, All that Ambition or his Lust desire; Him from his Father's woolly Charge I took, And gave him a bright Sceptre for a Crook. You all beheld, on Helah's bloody Plain, By his young Hands the monstrous Gathite slain. I did the Hate of envious Saul repel, And all the Malice of pursuing Hell. By me his Power does far and wide extend, A boundless Empire, and without an end. But now our Laws are scorned, unmindful He Of Justice, Goodness, of himself and Me. In'ocent Urias by his crime did fall, Whose bleeding Ghost does still for Venge'nce call. A thousand plagues the stubborn King shall bear, And all jerusalem in my Judgements share. Renowned examples to the future age, And lasting Monuments of eternal rage. He said, The Spirits stood silent as he spoke, Whilst the whole Firmament around did shake. heavens immeasured space made loud reply, Like Thunder ecch'oing from the distant Sky. The mighty Shilo felt his Father's care, (For Son and Father of like passions are.) Their heavenly minds in equal order run, And what does move the Father, moveth the Son. The Son was Mercy, Love he only knew, Wrath from his breast, as from an En'my, flew. The melting God with pit'ing look surveys, The world below, and man's unhaypy Race. He rose, and nodding his illustrious head, These words to his Almighty Father said: Immortal Parent of the world and Me, Author of all that is, or is to be; Hear me implore: Thee let no Passions move, Nor heavy Justice so outweigh thy love. Let no ungodlike Rage begin to rise, Unworthy the Commander of the Skies. If we should shoot as oft as Man shall sin, How soon (alas!) our Quivers would be thin! Soon would our Lightning and our Shafts be spent, No Thunder rolling in the Firmament. Unbottomed Hell; tho' large and unconfined, Would scarce contain a part of Humankind. Myriad and Myriad would unburied go, And crowded Ghosts lament for room below. Diminished Nature would begin to die, And Earth, unpeopled like a Desert lie. Are then thy Prophet's false? thy Promise vain? Didst thou for this the Race of man ordain? Have we not fixed a stated time, when All Shall in one universal Ruin fall? When the disordered Elements shall burn, Whither in flames, and to their Nothing turn. Till then, Great Father, let thy Thunder sleep, Till then the Terror of thy Lightning keep He ended here. Cherubs and Seraphs sung, Whilst with applause the starry Palace rung. They tuned their golden Harps: heavens Monarch smiled, And straight became more merciful and mild. His Rage departs: He feels his thoughtful Mind Melt into Softness, and to Love inclined. Then calls forth Gabri'l, Minister of Heaven, And Gen'ral of the fair selected seven, Who walk the Circuit of the World, to know (Laborious Angels!) what we do below: No Sign of Anger now his looks betrayed, But, smilingly, these pleasing words he said. I'll try once More my stretching Grace, and know How far the Mercy of a God will go. Thrice among Monsters Jesse's Offspring fell, Thrice we the savage Monsters did repel: Himself a Monster now! but we forgive, His bloody Crimes, and suffer him to live. Hast then to Naioth's Town, our Prophet's seat, Who there enjoy Ease, and a learned retreat, Bid Nathan go to David, and relate Bersaba's wrongs, and just Uriah's fate, Whose injured Ghost does still for Blood complain, Unless his Sorrow washes out the stain. Scarce had he spoke, when Gabr'iel left the Sky; From heavens high Top did the Wing'd Envoy fly. An azure Mantle does around him play, And softened Clouds fringed with the Sun's pure Ray Serve him for wings; whose flying Sails do bear, The nimble Angel through the liquid Air. O'er Ramah's Hills he takes his Winding Flight, And does at last, unseen, in Naioth light. Here the good Prophet eased his careful breast, And weary Nature borrowed gentle Rest. When Gabr'iel Sam'el's reverend likeness took, And in these words his sacred Message spoke; Nathan, well-read in sure Futurity, Awake and hear what Heaven commands by me. With speed to Judah's Monarch haste, relate Bersaba's wrongs, and just Uriah's Fate. Whose injured Ghost does still for blood complain, Unless his Sorrow washes out the stain. The Prophet, wakened with the Voice he heard, Arose, but straight the Vision disappeared, Inspired by God and by wise Sam'el scent, Undoubtingly to Judah's Court he went. On David's lofty Palace top there stood A pleasant Garden and delightful Wood Here nodding Trees their fruitful Branches shaken And bending Boughs with lovely Apples broke. Here various Fruits in artful order grew, That Babylonian Lux'ry ever knew. Here in a Grove retiring David walked; Here with the Monarch the rough Prophet talked. I from the Almighty come, who from above, Beheld thy Murder, and thy hated Love; From hence thou viewd'st the treacherous charming She Witness this consc'ious Grove: Witness each blushing Tre● And then in words he paints his bloody Crimes. Jessides heard, and wept.— On Earth he threw the Sceptre which he bore, And felt a passion greater than before. No more Bersaba can his mind delight, No more her charming Graces can invite. A Kingly Grief his mournful Breast reclaims, And streaming Tears quench the forbidden flames. This pious sorrow Nathan did behold, And straight the Prophet things to come foretold. No more indulge thy Grief, but hear, said he, What gracious Heaven has preordained for Thee. A royal Race shall from thy Loins descend, And flying Conquests through the world extend. Tigris shall wildly swell with hostile Gore, Whilst Syrian Blood stains swift Euphrates shore. Judean Arms through all shall cut their way, afric and Egypt shall become their prey. But of thy numerous Progeny, shall none Be wiser, or more fair than Solomon. Heaven shall to him unbounded Knowledge give, All that a Mortal nature can receive. Sabaean Kings shall leave the parched Line, And bring, like Votaries, Offerings to his Shrine. The Southern Queen her Kingdom shall forsake, And learned rules from his example take. Then bounteous Heaven shall all its riches throw, That fruitful Sun's can breed, or Showers bestow. Then precious Ophir's wealth shall bless the Land, And silver Jordan flow with golden Sand. Continual Corn shall the low Valleys fill, And verdant Oks sweet yellow Dew distil. Far from the painted East shall Monarches stray, And uncompelled their glorious Tributes pay. From every part great Emperors shall come, Some shall bring Pearls, Arabian Spices some, Sacred to God shall a bright Temple rise; The wondrous work shall make the vaulted Skies. His boundless sway shall stretch o'er Babel's Tower, And sandy Libya shall obey his power. Him the vast Earth undoubted Lord shall style, From wide Euphrates to the secret Nile. A Row of glorious Worthies then shall reign, Defend Judea, and her Right maintain. Tho' wicked Kings shall harm thy race and Thee, Thy Seed shall rise, like Rocks a 'bove the Sea. ●o root thee out, tho' a whole World combine, ●o human Forces can resist Divine. Commanding Judah shall her Sceptre bear, And rule till Promised Shilo, shall appear. The Promised Shilo, the Mysterious King Tho gave thee Birth, from thy bright Loins shall spring▪ The bending Clouds he shall unseen divide, And, without grief, leave his great Father's side. Whilst Angels gaze, whilst all the Spirits above, And God himself shall wonder at his Love. No Heavenly Sings the Deity proclaims, No Arms, no Lightning, no avenging Flames. No good he comes, so humble and so mild, Not like a Thunderer, but like a Child. Then Eden's Garden shall again Display It's Beauteous Beams, and make Eternal day. Then happy Man immortal Fruit shall see, And, without danger, taste the Second Tree. He spoke, Vast Joy did David's heart invade; He took his Lyre, and Wondrously he played If wondrous Mercy: No unchaste Desire Did the great Poet's Heavenly Thoughts inspire. He Sung; nor could Bersaba now Beguile, His Lute or Heartstrings; with an Amorous smile. To God his Lute resourds, to God alike His Lute and Heart in equal Numbers strike. FINIS, ERRATA. IN the Preface p. 1. l. 9 at the latter end, deal the, p. 4. l. 11. d. (●. p. ib. l. 20. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 p. 6. l. 2. r. Ghost p. 7. l. 15. r. or Furies. In the Verses, fol, 6. l. 6. r. Domestic.