Absalon Senior: OR, ACHITOPHEL TRANSPROSED. A POEM. Si Populus vult decipi, etc. LONDON: Printed for S. E. and Sold by Langley Curtis, at the Sign of Sir Edmondbury God●●ey, near Fleetbridge. 1682. To the TORIES. GEntlemen, for so you all write yourselves; and indeed you are your own Heralds, and Blazon all your Coats with Honour and Loyalty for your Supporters; nay, and you are so unconscionable too in that point, that you will allow neither of them in any other Scutcheons but your own. But who has 'em, or has 'em not, is not my present business; only as you profess yourselves Gentlemen, to conjure you to give an Adversary fair play; and that if any person whatsoever shall pretend to be aggrieved by this POEM, or any part of it, that he would bear it patiently; since the Licentiousness of the first Absolom and Achitophel has been the sole occasion of the Liberty of This, I having only taken the Measure of My Weapon; from the Length of his; which by the Rules of Honour ought not to offend you; especially, since the boldness of that Ingenious Piece, was wholly taken from the Encouragement you gave the Author; and 'tis from that Boldness only that this POEM takes its Birth: for had not his daring Pen brought that Piece into the World, I had been so far from troubling myself in any Subject on this kind, that I may justly say in one sense, the Writer of that Absolom, is the Author of this. This favour, as in justice due, obtained from you, I shall not trouble you with a long Preface, like a tedious Compliment at the Door, but desire you to look in for your Entertainment. Only I cannot forbear telling you, that one thing I am a little concerned for you, Tories, that your Absoloms and Achitophel's, and the rest of your Grinning Satyrs against the whigs, have this one unpardonable Fault, That the Lash is more against a David, than an Achitophel; whilst the running down of the PLOT at so extravagant a rate, savours of very little less (pardon the Expression) than ridiculing of Majesty itself, and turning all those several Royal Speeches to the Parliament on that Subject, only into those double-tongued Oracles that sounded one thing, and meant another. Besides, after this unmannerly Boldness, of not only branding the public justice of the Nation, but affronting even the Throne itself, to push the humour a little farther, you run into ten times a greater Vice, (and in the same st●●in too) than what you so severely inveigh against: and whilst a POPISH PLOT through want of sufficient Circumstances, and credible Witnesses, miscarries with you, a PROTESTANT PLOT without either Witness or Circumstance at all, goes currant. Nay, you are so far now from your former niceties and scruples, and disputing about raising of Armies, and not one Commission found, that you can swallow the raising of a whole Protestant ARMY, without either Commission, or Commission-Officer; Nay, the very When, Where, and How, are no part of your Consideration. 'Tis true, the great Cry amongst you, is, The Nations Eyes are opened; but I am afraid, in most of you, 'tis only to look where you like best: and to help your lewd Eyesight, you have got a damnable trick of turning the Perspective upon occasion, and magnifying or diminishing at pleasure. But alas, all talking to you is but impertinent, and fending and pro●ing signify just nothing; for after all Arguments, both Parties are so irreconcilable, that as the Author of Absolom wisely observed, they'll be Fools or Knaves to each other to the end of the Chapter. And therefore I am so reasonable in this point, that I should be very glad to divide 'em between 'em, and give the Food to the Tory, and the Knave to the Whig. For the Tories that will believe no POPISH PLOT, may as justly come under that denomination, as They, that David tells us, said in their Hearts there was no God. And then let the whigs that do believe a Popish Plot be the Knaves, for daring to endeavour to hinder the Effects of a Popish Plot, when the Tories are resolved to the contrary. But to draw near a conclusion, I have one favour more to beg of you, that you'll give me the freedom of cl●pping but about a score of years extraordinary on the back of my Absolom. Neither is it altogether so unpardonable a Poetical Licence, since we find as great slips from the Auth●r of your own Absolom, where we see him bring in a Zimri into the Court of David, who in the Scripture-story died by the Hand of Phineas in the days of Moses. Nay, in the other extreme, we find him in another place talking of the Martyrdom of Stephen, so many Ages after. And if so famous an Author can forget his own Rules of Unity, Time, and Place, I hope you'll give a Minor Poet some grains of Allowance, and he shall ever acknowledge himself Your Humble Servant. ABSOLOM Absalon Senior: OR, ACHITOPHEL TRANSPROSED. IN Gloomy Times, when Priestcraft bore the sway, And made heavens Gate a Lock to their own Key: When ignorant Devotees did blindly bow, And groping to be saved they knew not how: Whilst this Egyptian darkness did orewhelm, The Priest sat Pilot even at Empire's Helm. Then Royal Necks were yoked, and Monarches still Hold but their Crowns at his Almighty Will. And to defend this high Prerogative, Falsely from Heaven he did that power derive: By a Commission forged i'th' hand of God, Turned Aaron's blooming wand, to Moses snaky Rod. Whilst Prince's little Sceptres overpowr'd, Made but that prey his wider Gorge devoured. Now to find Wealth might his vast pomp supply, (For costly Roofs befit a Lord so high) No Arts were spared his Luster to support, But all Mines searched t'enrich his shining Court. Then Heaven was bought, Religion but a Trade; And Temples Murder's Sanctuary made. By Phineas Spear no bleeding Cozbies groaned, If Cozbies' Gold for Cozbies' Crimes atoned. With these wise Arts, (for Humane Policy As well as Heavenly Truth, mounts Priests so high) 'Twixt gentle Penance, lazy Penitence, A Faith that gratifies both Soul and Sense; With easy steps to everlasting Bliss, He paves the rugged way to Paradise. Thus almost all the Proselyte-World he drives, Whilst th' universal Drones buzz to his Hives. Implicit Faith Religion thus conveyed Through little pipes to his great Channel laid, Till Piety through such dark Conduits led, Was poisoned by the Spring on which it fed. Here blind Obedience to a blinder Guide, Nursed that Blind Zeal that raised the Priestly pride; Whilst to make Kings the Sovereign Prelate own, Their Reason ●e enslaved, and then their Throne. Th● Mitre thus above the Diadem soared, God's humble servant He, but Man's proud Lord. It was in such Church-light blind-zeal was bred, By Faith's infatuating Meteor led; Blind Zeal, that can even Contradictions join; A Saint in Faith, in Life a Libertine; Makes Greatness though in Luxury worn down, bigoted even to th' Hazard of a Crown; Tied to the Girdle of a Priest so fast, And yet Religious only to the waist. But Constancy atoning Constancy, Where that once reigns, Devotion may lie by. T'espouse the Church's Cause lies in heavens road, More than obeying of the Churches God. And he dares fight, for Faith is more renowned A Zealot Militant, than Martyr crowned. Here the Archpriest to that Ambition blown, Pulled down God's Altars, to erect his own: For not content to publish heavens command, The Sacred Law penned by th'Almighty Hand, And Moses-like 'twixt God and Israel go, Thought Sinai's Mount a Pinnacle too low. So charming sweet were Incense fragrant Fumes, So pleased his Nostrils, till th'Aspirer comes From offering, to receiving Hecatombs; And ceasing to adore, to be adored. So fell Faith's guide: so loftily he towered, Till like th'Ambitious Lucifer accursed, Swel●'d to a God, into a Fiend he burst. But as great Lucifer by falling gained Dominion, and ever in Damnation reigned; And though from Lights blest Orb for ever driven, Yet Prince o'th'Air, h'had that vast Sceptre given, T'have Subject's far more numerous than Heaven. And thus enthroned, with an infernal spite, The genuine Malice of the Realms of night, The Paradise he lost blasphemes, abhors, And against Heaven proclaims Eternal Wars; No Arts untried, no hostile steps untrod, Both against Truth's Adorers, and Truths God. So Faiths fallen Guide, now Baal's great Champion reigned; Wide was his Sway, and Mighty his Command: Whilst with implacable Revenge he burned, And all his Rage against God's Israel turned. Here his envenomed Souls black gall he flings, Spots all his Snakes, and points his Scorpions stings: Omits no Force, or Treacherous Design, Blessed Israel to assault, or undermine. But the first Sword did his keen Malice draw, Was aimed against the Godlike Deborah. Deborah, the matchless pride of Iudah's Crown, Whose Female hand Baal's impious Groves cut down, His banished Wizards from her Israel thrust, And pounded all their Idols into dust. Her Life with indefatigable pain, By Daggers long, and poisons sought in vain: At length they angry jabins' Rage inflamed, Hazors proud King, for Iron Chariots famed; A Warrior powerful, whose most dreadful Host Proclaimed Invincible, (were humane Boast Infallible) by haughty Sisera led, Against Deborah their bloody Banners spread. Here Deborah her Barak calls to War; Barak, the Sun's famed fellow-traveller, Who wand'ring o'er the Earth's surrounded Frame, Had travelled far as his great Mistress Fame. Here Barak did with Deborah's vengeance fly, And to that swift prodigious Victory, So much by Humane Praises undefin'd, That Fame wants Breath, and Wonder lags behind. To heavens high Arch her sounding Glories rung, Whilst thus great Deborah and Barak sung. HEar, oh ye Princes, oh ye Kings give Ear, And Israel's great Avengers honour hear. When God of Hosts, thou Israel's Spear and Shield, Went'st out of Seir, and marched'st from Edom's field, Earth trembled, the Heaven's dropped, the Clouds all poured; The Mountains melted from before the Lord; Even thy own Sinai melted into streams, At Israel's dazzling Gods refulgent Beams. In Shamgar and in Jael's former days, The wand'ring Traveller walked through byways. They chose new Gods. No Spear nor Sword was found, To have Idolatry deposed, Truth Crowned: Till I alone, against Jehovahs' Foes; I Deborah, I Israel's Mother rose. Wake Deborah, wake, raise thy exalted Head; Rise Barak, and Captivity Captive lead. For to blessed Deborah, beloved of Heaven, Over the Mighty is Dominion given. Great Barak leads, and Israel's Courage warms; Ephraim and Benjamin march down in Arms: Zebulon and Nepthali my Thunder bore, Dan from her Ship● and Asher on the Shore. Behold Megiddoes waves, and from afar, See the fierce Jabins threatening storm of War. But Heaven against Sisera fought, and the kind Stars 〈◊〉 their embattled Fires for Deborah's Wars, Shot down their Vengeance that miraculous day, When Kishons' Torrents swept their Hosts away. But curse ye Meroz, curse 'em from on high, Did the denouncing voice of Angels cry; Accursed be they that went not out t'oppose The Mighty; Deborah's, God's, and Israel's Foes. Victorious Judah! Oh my Soul, thoust trod, Trod down their strengths. So fall the Foes of God. But they who in his Sacred Laws delight, Be as the Sun when he sets out in might. Thus sung, th●● conquered Deborah; thus fell Hers, and heavens Foes. But no Defeat tames Hell. By Conquest overthrown, but not dismayed, Against Israel still their private Engines played. And their dire Machinations to fulfil, Their stings torn out, they kept their poison still. And now too weak in open force to join, In close Cabals they hatched a damned Design, To light that Mine as should the world amaze, And set the ruin'd Israel in a blaze. When judah's Monarch with his Princes round, Amidst his glorious Sanedrim sat Crowned, Beneath his Throne a Cavern low, and dark As their black Souls, for the great Work they mark▪ In this loan Cell their Midnight-Hands bestowed A Stygian Compound, a combustive load Of Mixture wondrous, Execution dire, Ready the Touch of their Infernal Fire. Have you not seen in yo● aethereal Road, How at the Rage of th'angry driving God, Beneath the pressure of his furious wheels The heavens all rattle, and the Globe all reels? So does this Thunder's Ape its lightning play, Keen as heavens Fires, and scarce less swift than they. A short-lived glaring Murderer it flies, In Times lest pulse, a Moment's winged surprise; 'Tis born, looks big, talks loud, breathes death, and dies. This Mixture was th'Invention of a Priest; The Sulphurous Ingredients all the best Of Hells own growth: for to dire Compounds still Hell finds the Minerals, and the Priest the Skill. From this cursed Mine they had that blow decreed, A Moment's dismal blast, as should exceed All the Storms, Battles, Murders, Massacres, And all the strokes of Daggers, Swords, or Spears, Since first Cain's hand at Abel's Head was lift: A Blow more swift than Pestilence, more swift Than ever a destroying Angel rod, To pour the Vial of an angry God. The Train was laid, the very Signal given; But here th'all-seeing, Israel's Guardian, Heaven Could hold no longer; and to stop their way, With a kind Beam from th'Empyraean Day, Disclosed their hammering Thunder at the Forge; And made their Cyclops Cave their Bolts disgorge. Discovered thus, thus lost, betrayed, undone, Yet still untired, the Restless Cause goes on; And to retrieve a yet auspicious day, A glowing spark even in their Ashes lay, Which thus burst out in flames. In Geshur Land, The utmost Bound of Israel's Command, Where Iudah's planted Faith but slowly grew, A Brutal Race that Israel's God ne'er knew: A Nation by the Conqueror's Mercy graced, Their Gods preserved, and Temples undefaced; Yet not content with all the Sweets of Peace, Free their Estates, and free their Consciences; Against Israel those confederate Swords they drew, Which with that vast Assassination slew Two hundred thousand Butchered Victims shared One common doom: No Sex nor Age was spared: Not kneeling Beauty's Tears, not Virgins Cries, Nor Infants Smiles: No prey so small but dies. Alas, the hard-mouthed Bloodhound, Zeal, bites through; Religion hunts, and hungry Jaws pursue. To what strange Rage is Superstition driven, That Man can outdo Hell to fight for Heaven! So Rebel Geshur fought: so drowned in gore, Even Mother Earth blushed at the Sons she bore; And still ashamed of her old staining Brand, Her Head shrinks down and Quagmires half their Land. Yet not this blow Baal's Empire could enlarge For Israel still was heavens peculiar charge: Unshaken still in all this Scene of Blood, Truth's Temple firm on Golden Columns stood. Whilst Saul's Revenging Arm proud Geshur scourged, From their rank soil their Hydra's poison purged. Yet does not here their vanquished spleen give o'er, But as untired, and restless as before, Still through whole waiting Ages they outdo At once the Chemists pains and patience too. Who though he sees his bursting Limbecks crack, And at one blast, one fatal Minutes wrack, The forward Hopes of sweeting years expire; With sad, yet painful hand new lights his Fire: Pale, lean, and wan, does Health, Wealth, all consume; Yet for the great Elixir still to come, Toils and hopes on. No less their Plottings cease; So hope, so toil, the foes of Israel's peace. When lo, a long expected day appears, Sought for above a hundred rolling years; A day i'th' register of Doom set down, Presents 'em with an Heir of Israel's Crown. Here their vast hopes of the rich Israel's spoils, Requites the pains of their long Ages Toils. Baal's Banners now i'th' face of day shall march, With heavens bright Roof for his Triumphal Arch. His lurking Missioners shall now no more From Foreign Schools in borrowed shapes come o'er; Convert by Moonlight, and their Mystic Rites Preach to 〈◊〉 Female half-souled Proselytes. An all-commanding Dragon now shall soar, Where the poor Serpents only crawled before. Baal's Restoration, that most blessed Design, Now the great work of Majesty, shall shine, Made by his consecrating hand Divine. He shall new plant their Groves with each blessed Tree, A graft of an Imperial Nursery. In the kind Air of this new Eden blest, Perched on each bough, and Palaces their nest; No more by frighting Laws forced t'obscure flight, And gloomy walks, like obscene Birds of Night; Their warbling Notes like Philomela shall sing, And like the Bird of Paradise their wing. Thus Israel's Heir their ravished Souls all fired; For all things to their ardent hopes conspired. His very youth a Bigot Mother bred, And tainted even the Milk on which he fed. Him only of her Sons designed for Baal's Great Champion against jerusalem's proud Walls; Him dipped in Stygian Lake, by timely craft, Invulnerable made against Truth's pointed shaft. But to confirm his early poisoned Faith, 'Twas in the cursed Foreign Tents of Gath, 'Twas there that he was lost. There Absalon By David's fatal Banishment undone, Saw their false Gods till in their Fires he burned, Truth's Manna, for Egyptian Fleshpots, scorned. Not David so; for he Faith's Champion Lord, Their Altars loathed, and profane Rites abhorred: Whilst his firm Soul on wings of Cherubs rod, And tuned his Lyre to nought but Abraham's God. Thus the gay Israel her long Tears quite dried, Her restored David met in all her Pride; Three Brothers saw by Miracle brought back, Like Noah's Sons saved from the world's great wrack; An unbelieving Ham graced on each hand, 'Twixt Godlike Shem, and pious japhet stand. 'Tis true, when David, all his storms blown o'er, Wafted by Prodigies to Iordans shore, (So swift a Revolution, yet so calm) Had cured an Ages wounds with one days Balm; Here the returning Absalon his vows With Israel joins, and at their Altars bows. Perhaps surprised at such strange blessings showered, Such wonders shown both t' Israel's Faith, and Lord, His Restoration-Miracle he thought Could by no less than Israel's God be wrought. Whilst the enlightened Absalon thus knelt, Thus dancing to the sound of Aaron's Bells, What dazzling Rays did Israel's Heir adorn, So bright his Sun in his unclouded Morn! 'Twas then his leading hand in Battle drew That Sword that David's famed ten thousand slew: david's the Cause, but Absalon's the Arm. Then he could win all Hearts, all Tongues could charm: Whilst with his praise the echoing plains all rung, A thousand Timbrels played, a thousand Virgins sung; And in the zeal of every jocund Soul, Absalon's Health with David's crowned one Bowl. Had he fixed here, yes, Fate, had he fixed here, To Man so Sacred, and to Heaven so dear, What could he want that Hands, Hearts, Lives could pay, Or Tributary Worlds beneath his feet could lay? What Knees, what Necks to mount him to h●● Throne; What Gems, what Stars to sparkle in 〈◊〉 Crown? So pleased, so charmed, had Israel's Genius smiled. But oh, Ye Powers, by treacherous snakes beguiled, Into a more than Adam's Curse he run, Tasting that Fruit has Israel's World undone. Nay, wretched even below his falling state, Wants Adam's Eyes to see his Adam's Fate. In vain was David's Harp and Israel's Choir; For his Conversion all in vain conspire: For though their influence a while retires, His own false Planets were th'Ascendant Fires. Heaven had no lasting Miracle designed; It did a while his fatal Torrent bind. As Ioshua's Wand did Iordan's streams divide, And ranged the watery Mountains on each side. But when the marching Israel once got o'er, Down crack the Crystal Walls; the Billows pou'r; And in their old impetuous Channel roar. At this last stroke thus totally o'erthrown, Apostasy now sealed him all her own. Here opeed that gaping Breach, that fatal door, Which now let in a thousand Ruins more. All the bright Virtues, and each dazzling Grace, Which his rich Veins drew from a Godlike Race; The Mercy, and the Clemency Divine, Those Sacred Beams which in mild David shine; Those Royal Sparks, his Native Seeds of Light, Were all put out, and left a Starless Night. A long farewell to all that's Great and Brave: Not Cataracts more headstrong; as the Grave Inexorable; Sullen and Untuned As Pride deposed; scarce Lucifer dethroned Moore Unforgiving; his enchanted Soul Had drank so deep of the bewitching Bowl, Till he whose hand, with judah's Standart, bore Her Martial Thunder to the Tyrian shore, Armed in her Wars, and in her Laurels crowned; Now, all forgotten, at one staggering wound, Falling from Israel's Faith; from Israel's Cause, Peace, Honour, Interest, all at once withdraws: Not is he deaf t'a Kingdoms Groans alone, But could behold ev'●● David's shaking Throne; David, whose Bounty raised his glittering Pride, The Basis of his Glories Pyramid. But Duty, Gratitude, all ruin'd fall: Zeal blazes, and Oblivion swallows all. So Sodom did both burnt and drowned expire; A poisoned Lake succeeds a Pile of Fire. On this Foundation Baal's last Hope was built, The sure Retreat for all their Sallying Gild: A Royal Harbour, where the rolling Pride Of Israel's Foes might safe at Anchor ride; Defy all Dangers, and even Tempests scorn, Though judah's God should Thunder in the Storm. Here Israel's Laws, the dull Levitick Rolls, At once a clog to Empire, and to Souls, Are the first Martyrs to the Fire they doom, To make great Baal's Triumphant Legends room. But ere their hands this glorious work can Crown, Their long-known Foe the Sanedrin must down; Sanedrins the Freeborn Israel's Sacred Right, That Godlike Balance of Imperial Might; Where Subjects are from Tyrant-Lords set free, From that wild Thing unbounded man would be; Where Power and Clemency are poised so even, A Constitution that resembles Heaven. So in th'united great THREE-ONE we find A Saving with a Dooming Godhead joined. (But why, oh why! if such restraining power Can bind Omnipotence, should Kings wish more?) A Constitution so Divinely mixed, Not Natures bounded Elements more fixed. Thus Earth's vast Frame with firm and solid ground, Stands in a foaming Ocean circled round; Yet This not overflowing, That not drowned. But to rebuild their Altars, and enstal Their Moulten Gods, the Sanedrin must fall; That Constellation of the Jewish Power, All blotted from its Orb must shine no more; Or stamped in Pharoahs' darling Mould, must quit Their Native Beams, for a new-modeled Light; Like Egypt's Sanedrins, their influence gone, Flash but like empty Meteors round the Throne That that new Lord may judah's Sceptre wield, To whom th'old Brick-kiln Taskmasters must yield; Who, to erect new Temples for his Gods, Shall th'enslaved Israel drive with Iron Rods; If they want Bricks for his new Walls t'aspire, To their sad cost, he'll find 'em Straw and Fire. All this t'effect, and their new Fabric build, Both close Cabals and Foreign Leagues are held: To Babylon and Egypt they send o'er, And both their Conduct and their Gold implore. By such Abettors the sly Game was played; One of their Chiefs a Jewish Renegade, Highborn in Israel, one michal's Priest, But now in Babylon's proud Scarlet dressed. 'Tis to his Hands the Plotting Mandates come Subscribed by the Apostate Absolom. Nay, and to keep themselves all danger-proof, That none might tract the Belial by his Hoof, Their-Correspondence veiled from prying Eyes, In Hieroglyphic Figures they disguise. Hushed as the Night, in which their Plots combined, And silent as the Graves they had designed, Their Ripening Mischiefs to perfection sprung. But oh! the much-loathed David lives too long. Their Vultures cannot mount but from his Tomb; And with too hungry ravenous Gorges come, To be by airy Expectation fed. No Prey, no Spoil, before they see Him Dead. Yes, Dead; the Royal Sands too slowly pass, And therefore they're resolved to break the Glass: And to ensure Times tardy dubious Call, Decree their Daggers should his Sith forestall. For th'execrable Deed a Hireling Crew Their Hell and They pick out; whom to make true, An Oath of Force so exquisite they frame, Sworn in the Blood of Israel's Paschal Lamb. If false, the Vengeance of that Sword that slew Egypt's Firstborn, their perjured Heads pursue. Strong was the Oath, the Imprecation dire; And for a Viand, lest their Gild should tyre, With promised Paradise they cheer their way; And bold's the Soldier who has Heaven his pay. But the ne'r-sleeping Providence that stands With jealous Eyes o'er Truth's up-lifted Hands; That still in its Loved Israel takes delight, Their Cloud by Day, and Guardian Fire by Night; A Ray from out its Fiery Pillar cast, That overlooked their driving Iehu's haste. All's ruined and betrayed: their own false Slaves Detect the Plot, and dig their Master's Graves: Not Oaths nor Bribes shall bind, when great jehovah saves. The frighted Israelites take the Alarm, Resolve the Traitor's Sorceries t'uncharm: Till cursing, raving, mad, and drunk with Rage, In Amnons' Blood their frantic Hands engage. Here let the Ghost of strangled Amnon come, A Spectre that will strike Amazement dumb; Amnon the Proto-Martyr of the Plot, The Murdered Amnon, their Eternal Blot; Whose too bold zeal stood like a Pharos Light, Israel to warn, and tract their Deeds of Night. Till the sly Foe his unseen Game to play, Put out the Beacon to secure his way. Baal's Cabinet-Intrigues he open spread, The Ravished Tamar for whose sake he bled. T'unveil their Temple and expose their Gods, Deserved their vengeances severest Rods: Wrath he deserved, and had the Vial full. To lay those Devils had possessed his Soul, His silenced Fiends from his wrung Neck they twist; Whilst his kind Murd'rer's but his Exorcist. Here draw, bold Painter, (if thy Pencil dare Unshaking write, what Israel quaked to hear,) A Royal Altar pregnant with a Load Of Humane Bones beneath a Breaden God. Altars so rich not Molocks Temples show; 'Twas Heaven above, and Golgotha below. Yet are not all the Mystic Rites yet done: Their pious Fury does not stop so soon. But to pursue the loud-tongued Wounds they gave, Resolves to stab his Fame beyond the Grave, And in Eternal Infamy to brand With Amnons' Murder, Amnons' righteous Hand. Here with a Bloodless wound, by Hellish Art, With his own Sword they gore his Lifeless Heart. Thus in a Ditch the butchered Amnon lay, A Deed of Night enough to have kept back the Day. Had not the Sun in Sacred vengeance rose, Ashamed to see, but prouder to disclose, Warmed with new Fires, with all his posting speed, Brought heavens bright Lamp to show th'Infernal Deed. What art thou, Church! when Faith to propagate, And crush all Ba●s that stop thy growing state, Thou break'st through Natures, Gods, and Humane Laws, Whilst Murder's Merit in a Church's Cause. How much thy Ladder Jacob's does excel: Whose Tops in Heaven like His, but Foot in Hell; Thy Causes bloody Champions to befriend, For Fiends to Mount, as Angels to Descend. This was the stroke did th'alarmed World surprise, And even to infidelity lent Eyes: Whilst sweeting Absalon in Israel penned, For fresher Air was to bleak Hebron sent. Cold Hebron warmed by his approaching sight, Flushed with his Gold, and glowed with new delight. Till Sacred all-converting Interest To Loyalty, their almost unknown Guest, Oped a broad Gate, from whence forth-issuing come, Decrees, Tests, Oaths, for well-soothed Absolom. Spite of that Gild that made even Angels fall, An unbarred Heir shall Reign: In spite of all Apostasy from Heaven, or Nature's ties, Though for his Throne a Cain-built Palace rise. No wonder Hebron such Devotion bears T'Imperial Dignity, and Royal Heirs; For they, whom Chronicle so high renowns For selling Kings, should know the price of Crowns. Here, Glorious Hushai, let me mourn thy Fate, Thou once great Pillar of the Hebron State: Yet now to Dungeons sent, and doomed t'a Grave. But Chains are no new Sufferings to the Brave. Witness thy pains in six years' Bonds endured, For Israel's Faith, and David's Cause immured. Death too thou oft for judah's Crown hast stood, So bravely faced in several Fields of Blood. But from Fame's Pinnacle now headlong cast, Life, Honour, all are ruined at a Blast. For Absalon's great LAW thou durst explain; Where but to pry, bold Lord, was to profane: A Law that did his Mystic Godhead couch, Like th'Ark of God, and no less Death to touch. Forgot are now thy Honourable Scars, Thy Loyal Toils, and Wounds in judah's Wars. Had thy piled Trophies Babel-high, reached Heaven, Yet by one stroke from Absalon's Thunder given, Thy towering glory's levelled to the ground; A stroke does all thy Tongues of Fame confound, And, Traitor, now is all the Voice they sound. True, thou hadst Law; that even thy Foes allow; But to thy Advocates, as damned as Thou, 'Twas Death to plead it. Artless Absalon The Bloody Banner to display so soon: Such kill Beams from thy young daybreak shot; What will the Noon be, if the Morn's so hot? Yes, dreadful Heir, the Coward Hebron awe. So the young Lion tries his tender Paw. At a poor Herd of feeble Heifers flies, Ere the rough Bear, tusked Boar, or spotted Leopard dies. Thus flushed, great Sir, thy strength in Israel try: When their Cowed Sanedrims shall prostrate lie, And to thy feet their slavish Necks shall yield; Then reign the Princely Savage of the Field. Yes, Israel's Sanedrin, 'twas they alone That set too high a Value on a Throne; Thought they had a God was Worthy to be served; A Faith maintained, and Liberty preserved. And therefore judged, for Safety and Renown Of Israel's People, Altars, Laws and Crown, Th'Anointing Drops on Royal Temples shed Too precious Showers for an Apostates Head. Then was that great Deliberate Council given, An Act of Justice both to Man and Heaven, Israel's conspiring Foes to overthrow, That Absalon should th'Hopes of Crowns forego. Debarred Succession! oh that dismal sound! A sound, at which Baal staggered, and Hell groaned; A sound that with such dreadful Thunder falls, 'Twas heard even to Semiramis trembling Walls. But hold! is this the Plots last Murdering Blow, The dire divorce of Soul and Body? No. The mangled Snake, yet warm, to Life they'll bring, And each disjointed Limb together cling. Then thus Baal's wise consulting Prophets cheered Their pensive Sons, and called the scattered Herd. Are we quite ruined! No, mistaken Doom, Still the great Day, yes that great Day shall come, (Oh, rouse our fainting Sons, and droop no more.) A Day, whose Luster, our long Clouds blown o'er, Not all the Rage of Israel shall annoy, No, nor denouncing Sanedrims destroy. See yond North-Pole, and mark Boötes Carr: Oh! we have those Influencing Aspects there, Those Friendly powers that drive in that bright Wain, Shall redeem All, and our lost Ground regain. Whilst to our Glory their kind Aid stands fast, But one Plot more, our Greatest and our Last. Now for a Product of that subtle kind, As far above their former Births refined, As Firmamental Fires t'a Tapers ray, Or Prodigies to Nature's common Clay. Empires in Blood, or Cities in a Flame, Are work for vulgar Hands, scarce worth a Name. A Cake of Shewbread from an Altar ta'en, Mixed but with some Levitical King-bane, Has sent a Martyred Monarch to his Grave. Nay, a poor Mendicant Church-Rake-hell slave Has stabbed Crowned Heads; slight Work to hands well skilled, 'Slight as the Pibble that Goliath killed. But to make Plots no Plots, to clear all Taints, Traitors transform to Innocents', Fiends to Saints, Reason to Nonsense, Truth to Perjury; Nay, make their own attesting Records lie, And even the gaping Wounds of Murder whole: I, this last Masterpiece requires a Soul. Gild to unmake, and Plots annihilate, Is much a greater work than to create. Nay both at once to be, and not to be, Is such a Task would pose a Deity. Let Baal do this, and be a God indeed: Yes, t'his Immortal Honour 'tis decreed, His Sanguine Robe though dipped in reeking Gore, With purity and Innocence all o'er, Shall dry, and spotless from the purple hue, The Miracle of gideon's Fleece outdo. Yes, they're resolved, in all their foes despite, To wash their more than Ethiop Treason White. But now for Heads to manage the Design, Fit Engineers to labour in this Mine. For their own hands 'twere fatal to employ: Should Baal appear, it would Baal's Cause destroy. Alas, should only their own Trumpets sound Their Innocence, the jealous Ears around All Infidels would the loathed Charmer fly, And through the Angel's voice the Fiend descry. No, this last game wants a new plotting Set, And Israel only now can Israel cheat. In this Machine their professed Foes must move, Whilst Baal absconding sits in Clouds above, From whence unseen he guides their bidden way: For he may prompt, although he must not play. This to effect a sort of Tools they find, Devotion-Rovers, an Amphibious Kind, Of no Religion, yet like Walls of Steel Strong for the Altars where their Princes kneel. Imperial not Celestial is their Test, The Uppermost, indsputably Best. They always in the golden Chariot rod, Honour their Heaven, and Interest their God. Of these then subtle Caleb none more Great, Caleb who shines where his lost Father set; Got by that sire, who not content alone, To shade the brightest Jewel in a Crown, Preaching Ingratitude t'a Court and Throne; But made his Politics the baneful Root From whence the springing Woes of Israel shoot, When his Great Masters fatal Gordian tied, He laid the barren Michal by his side; That the adored Absalon's immortal Line Might on judeas' Throne for ever shine. Caleb, who does that hardy Pilot make, Steering in that Hereditary Track, Blind to the seamark of a Father's Wrack. Next jonas stands bull-faced, but chicken-souled, Who once the silver ●●nedrin Controlled, Their Gold-tiped Tongue; Gold his great Counsels Bawd: Till by succeeding Sanedrins outlawed, He was preferred to guard the sacred Store: There Lordly rolling in whole Mines of Oar; To Dicing Lords, a Cully-Favourite, He prostitutes whole Cargoes in a Night. Here to the Top of his Ambition come, Fills all his Sails for hopeful Absolom. For his Religion's as the Season calls, Gods in Possession, in Reversion Baal's. He bears himself a Dove to Mortal Race, And though not Man, he can look Heaven i'th' Face. Never was Compound of more different Stuff, A Heart in Lambskin, and a Conscience Buff. Let not that Hideous Bulk of Honour scape, Nadab that sets the gazing Crowd agape: That old Kirk-founder, whose course Croak could sing The Saints, the Cause, no Bishop, and no King: When Greatness cleared his Throat, and scoured his Maw, Roared out Succession, and the Penal Law. Not so of old: another sound went forth, When in the Region from judea North, By the Triumphant Saul he was employed, A huge fang Tusk to gore poor David's side. Like a Proboscis in the Tyrant's Jaw, To rend and root through Government and Law. His hand that Hell-penned League of Belial drew, That Swore down Kings, Religion overthrew, Great David banished, and Gods Prophets slew. Nor does the Courts long Sun so powerful shine, T'exhale his Vapours, or his Dross refine; Nor is the Metal mended by the stamp. With his rank oil he feeds the Royal Lamp. To Sanedrins an everlasting Foe, Resolved his Mighty Hunter's overthrow. And true to Tyranny, as th'only Gem, That truly sparkles in a Diadem; To Absalon's side does his old Covenant bring, With State razed out, and interlined with KING. But Nadabs' Zeal has too severe a Doom; Whilst serving an ungrateful Absalon, His strength all spent his Greatness to create, He's now laid by a cast-out Drone of Sta●e. He roused that Game by which he is undone, By fleeter Coursers now so far outrun, That fiercer Mightier Nimrod in the Chase, Till quite thrown out, and lo●t he quits the Race. Of Low-born Tools we bawling Shimei saw, jerusalem's late loud-tongued MOUTH of Law. By Blessings from Almighty Bounty given, Shimei no common Favourite of Heaven. Whom, lest Posterity should lose the Breed, In five short Moons indulgent Heaven raised Seed; Made happy in an Early teeming Bride, And laid a lovely Heiress by her side. Whilst the glad Father's so divinely blest, That like the Stag proud of his Brow so dressed, He brandishes his lofty City-Crest. 'Twas in jerusalem was Shimei ●●rst, jerusalem by Baal's Prophets ever cursed, The greatest Block that stops 'em in their way, For which she once in Dust and Ashes lay. Here to the Bar this whiffling Lurcher came, And barked to rouse the nobler Hunters Game. But Shimei's Lungs might well be stretched so far; For steering by a Court-Ascendant Star, For daily Oracles he does address, To the Egyptian Beauteous Sorceress. For Pharaoh when he wisely did essay To bear the long-sought Golden Prize away, That fair Enchantress sent, whose Magic Skill Should keep great Israel's sleeping Dragon still. Thus by her powerful inspirations fed, To bite their Heels this City-Snake was bred, Till Absalon got strength to bruise their Head. Of all the Heroes since the world began, To Shimei joshuah was the bravest Man. To Him his Tutelar Saint he prays, and oh, That great jerusalem were like jericoh! Then bellowing loud for joshuahs' Spirit calls, Because his Rams-horn blew down City-Walls. In the same Roll have we grave Corah seen, Corah, the late chief Scarlet Abbethdin. Corah, who luckily i'th' Bench was got, To 〈◊〉 the Bloodhounds off to save the Plot. Corah, who once against Baal's Impious Cause, Stood strong for Israel's Faith and David's Laws. He poised his Scales, and shook his ponderous Sword, Loud as his Father's Basan-Bulls he roared; Till by a Dose of Forreign Ophir drenched, The fever of his Burning Zeal was Quenched. Ophir, that rescued the Court-drugsters' Fate, Sent in the Nick to gild his Pills of State. Whilst the kind Skill of our Law-Emperick, Sublimed his Mercury to save his Neck. In Law, they say, he had but a slender Mite, And Sense he had less: for as Historians write, The Arabian Legate laid a Share so gay, As Spirited his little Wits away. Of the Records of Law he fancied none Like the Commandment Tables graved in Stone. And wished the Talmude such, that Sovereign sway When once displeased might th'angry Moses play. Only his Law was Brittle i'th' wrong place: For had our Corah been in Moses Case, The Fury of his Zeal had been employed To build that Calf which th'others Rage destroyed. Thus Corah, Baal's true Fairy Changeling made, He Bl●ated only as the Pharisees prayed, All to advance that future Tyrant power, Should Widows Houses gorge, and Orphans Tears devour. Nor are these all their Instruments; to prop Their Mighty Cause, and Israel's Murmurs stop; They find a sort of Academic Tools; Who by the Politic Doctrine of their Schools, Betwixt Reward, Pride, Avarice, Hope and Fear, Prising their Heaven too cheap, the World too dear, Stand bold and strong for Absalon's Defence: Interest the Thing, but Conscience the Pretence. These to ensure him for their Zions King, A Right Divine quite down from Adam bring, That old Levitick Engine of Renown, That makes no Taint of Souls a bar t'a Crown. 'Tis true, Religions constant Champion vowed, Each open-mouthed, with Pulpit-Thunder loud, Against false Gods, and Idol Temples bawls; Yet lays the very Stones that raise their Walls. They preach up Hell to those that Baal adore, Yet make't Damnation to oppose his power. So far this Paradox of Conscience run, Till Israel's Faith pulls Israel's Altars down. Grant Heaven they don't to Baal so far make way, Those fatal Wands before their Sheepfolds lay. Such Motley Principles amongst them thrown, Shall nurse that Py-balled Flock that's half his own. Nor may they say, when Molocks Hands draw nigher, We built the Pile, whilst Baal but gives it fire. If Monarchy in Adam first begun, When the World's Monarch dug, and his Queen spun, His Fig-leaves his first Coronation-Robe, His Spade his Sceptre, and her Wheel his Globe; And Royal Birthright, as their Schools assert, Not Kings themselves with Conscience can divert; How came the World possessed by Adam's Sons, Such various Principalities, Powers, Thrones? When each went out and choose what Lands he pleased, Whilst a new Family new Kingdoms raised? His Sons assuming what he could not give, Their Sovereign Sires right Heir they did deprive; And from Rebellion all their power derive: For were there an original Majesty Upheld by Right Divine, the World should be Only one Universal Monarchy. O cruel Right Divine, more full of Fate, Then th' Angel's flaming Sword at Eden's Gate, Such early Treason through Mankind conveyed, And at the door of Infant-Nature laid. For Right Divine in Esau's just defence, Why don't they quarrel with Omnipotence, The firstborn Esau's Right to jacob given, And God's gift too, Injustice charge on Heaven. Nay, let Heaven answer this one Fact alone, Mounting a Bastard jephtha on a Throne. If Kings and Sanedrims those Laws could make, Which from offending Heirs their Heads can take; And a Firstborn can forfeit Life and Throne, And all by Law: why not a Crown alone? Strange-bounded Lawmakers! whose power can throw The deadlier Bolt, can't give the weaker Blow. A Treasonous Act; nay, but a Treasonous Breath Against offended Majesty is Death. But, oh! the wondrous Church-distinction given Between the Majesty of Kings and Heaven! The venial sinner here, he that intrigues With Egypt, Babylon; Cabals, Plots, Leagues With Israel's Foes her Altars to destroy, A Hair untouched, shall Health, Peace, Crowns enjoy. Truth's Temple thus the Exhalations bred From her own Bowels, to obscure her Head. And Absolom already had subdued Whole Crowds of the unthinking Multitude▪ But through these Wiles too weak to catch the Wise, Thin as their Ephod-Lawn, a Cobweb Net for Flies, The searching Sanedrim saw; and to dispel Th'engend'ring Mists that threatened Israel, They still resolved their Plotting Foes defeat, By barring Absalon th'Imperial Seat. But here's his greatest Tug; could he but make Th'including Sanedrims Resolves once shake; Nay, make the smallest Breach, or clashing Jar, In their great Council, push but home so far, And the great Points secured.— And, lo! among The Princely Heads of that Illustrious Throng, He saw rich Veins with Noble Blood new filled; Others who Honour from Dependence held. Some with exhausted Fortunes, to support Their Greatness, propped with Crutches from a Court. These for their Countries Right their Votes still pass, Moved like the Water in a Weatherglass, Higher or lower, as the powerful Charm O▪ th' Sovereign Hand is either cool or warm. Here must th'attack be made: for well we know, Reason and Titles from one Fountain flow: Whilst Favour Men no less than Fortunes builds, And Honour ever Moulds as well as Guilds. Honour that still does even new Souls inspire; Honour more powerful than the Heav'n-stoln Fire. These must be wrought to Absalon's Defence. For though to baffle the whole Sanedrims' Sense T'attempt Impossibles would be in vain; Yet 'tis enough but to Divide and Reign. Here though small Force such easy Converts draws, Yet 'tis thought fit in glory to their Cause, Some learned Champion of prodigious Sense, With Mighty and long studied Eloquence, Should with a kind of Inspiration rise, And the unguarded Sanedrim surprise; And such resistless conquering Reasons press, To charm their vanquished Souls, that the Success Might look like Conscience, though 'tis nothing less. For this Design no Head nor Tongue so well, As that of the profound Achitophel. How, great Achitophel! his Hand, his Tongue! Babylon's Mortal Foe; he who so long With haughty Sullenness, and scornful Lowr, Had loathed false Gods, and Arbitrary power. Against Baal no Combatant more fierce than he; For Israel's asserted Liberty, No Man more bold; with generous Rage inflamed, Against the old ensnaring Test declaimed. Besides, he bore a most peculiar Hate To sleeping Pilots, all Earth-clods of State. None more abhorred the Sycophant, Buffoon; And Parasite, th'excrescence of a Throne; Creatures who their creating Sun disgrace, A Brood more abject than Nile's Slime-born Race. Such was the Brave Achitophel; a Mind, (If but the Heart and Face were of a kind) So far from being by one base Thought depraved, That sure half ten such Souls had Sodom saved. Here Baal's Cabal Achitophel surveyed, And dashed with wonder, half despairing said, Is this the Hand that Absalon must Crown, The Founder of his Temples, Palace, Throne? This, This the mighty Convert we must make? Gods, h'has a Soul not all our Arts can shake. At this a Wiser graver Head stepped out, And with this Language chid their groundless Doubt: For shame, no more; what is't that frights you thus? Is it his Hatred of our God, and us, Makes him so formidable in your Eye? Or is't his Wit, Sense, Honour, Bravery? Give him a thousand Virtues more, and plant Them round him like a Wall of Adamant, Strong as the Gates of Heaven; we'll reach his Heart: Cheer, cheer, my Friends, I've found one Mortal part. For he has Pride, a vast insatiate Pride, Kind Stars, he's vulnerable on that side. Pride that made Angels fall, and Pride that hurled Entailed Destruction through a ruin'd World. Adam from Pride to Disobedience ran: To be like Gods, made a lost wretched Man. There, there, my Sons, let our poured strength all fly: For some bold Tempter now to rap him high, From Pinnacles to Mountain Tops, and show The gaudy Glories of the World below. At which the Consult came to this Design, To work him by a kind of Touch Divine. To raise some holy Spirit to do the Feat. Nothing like Dreams and Visions to the Great. Did not a little Witch of Endor bring A Visionary Seer t'a cheated King? And shall their greater Magic want Success, Their more Illustrious Sorceries do less! This final Resolution made, at last Some Mystic words, and invocations past, They called the Spirit of a late Court-Scribe; Once a true Servant of the Plotting Tribe: When both with Foreign and Domestic Cost, He played the feasted Sanedrims kind Host. H'had scribbled much, and like a Patriot bold, Bid high for Israel's Peace with Egypt's Gold. But since a Martyr. (Why! as Writers think, His Master's Hand had over-galled his Ink.) And by protesting Absoloms wise care, Popped into Brimstone ere he was aware. Him from the Grave they raised, in ample kind, His severed Head to his seer Quarters joined; Then cased his Chin in a false Beard so well, As made him pass for Father Samuel. Him thus equipt in a Religious Cloak, They thus his newmade Reverence bespoke. Go, awful Spirit, hast to Achitophel, Rouse his great Soul, use every Art, Charm, Spell: For Absolom thy utmost Rhetoric try, Preach him Succession, roared Succession cry, Succession dressed in all her glorious pride, Succession Worshipped, Sainted, Deified. Conjure him by Divine and Humane Powers, Convince, Convert, Confound, make him but ours, That Absalon may mount on judah's Throne, Whilst all the World before us is our own. The forward Spirit but few Instructions lacked, Straight by the Moons pale light away he packed, And in a trice, his Curtains opened wide, He sat him by Achitophel's Bedside. And in this style his artful Accents run▪ Hear Israel's Hope, thou more than happy Man, Beloved on high, witness this Honour done By Father Samuel, and believe me, Son, 'Tis by no common Mandate of a God, A Soul beatifyed, the blessed Abode Thus low deserting, quits Immortal Thrones, And from his Grave resumes his sleeping Bones. But Heaven's the Guide, and wondrous is the way, Divine the Embassy: hear, and obey. How long, Achitophel, and how profound. A Mist of Hell has thy lost Reason drowned? Can the Apostasy from Israel's Faith, In Israel's Heir, deserve a murmuring Breath? Or to preserve Religion, Liberty, Peace, Nations, Souls, is that a Cause so high, As the Right Heir from Empire to debar? Forbid it Heaven, and guard him every Star. Alas, what if an Heir of Royal P●ace, God's Glory and his Temples will deface, And make a prey of your Estates, Lives, Laws; Nay, give your Sons to Molocks burning paws; Shall you exclude him? hold that Impious Hand. As Abraham gave his Son 〈◊〉 God's Command, Think still he does by Divine Right 〈◊〉: God bids Him Reign, and you should bid Them Bleed. 'Tis true, as heavens Elected Flock, you may For his Conversion, and your Safety pray But Prayers are all. To Disinherit him, The very Thought, nay, Word itself a Crime. For that's the MEANS of Safety: but forbear, For Means are Impious in the Sons of Prayer. To Miracles alone your Safety owe; And Abraham's Angel wait to stop the Blow. Yes, what if his polluted Throne be strewed With Sacrilege, Idolatry, and Blood; And 'tis you mount him there; you're innocent still: For he's a King, and Kings can do no ill. Oh Royal Birthright, 'tis a Sacred Name: Rouse then Achitophel, rouse up for shame: Let not this Lethargy thy Soul benumb; But wake, and save the Godlike Absolom. And to reward thee for a Deed so great Glut thy Desires, thy full-crowned wishes meet, Be with accumulated Honours blest, And grasp a STAR t'adorn thy shining Crest. Achitophel before his Eyes could open, Dreamt of an Ephod, Mitre, and a Cope. Those visionary Robes t'his Eyes appeared: For Priestly all was the great Sense he heard. But Priest or Prophet, Right Divine, or all Together; 'twas not at their feebler call, 'Twas at the Star he waked; the Star but named, Flashed in his Eyes, and his roused Soul inflamed. A Star, whose Influence had more powerful Light, Then that Miraculous Wanderer of the Night, Decreed to guide the Eastern Sages way: Their's to adore a God, his to betray. Here the new Convert more than half inspired, Straight to his Closet and his Books retired. There for all needful Arts in this extreme, For knotty Sophistry t'a limber Theme▪ Long brooding ere the Mass to Shape was brought, And after many a tugging heaving Thought, Together a well-orderd Speech he draws, With ponderous Sounds for his much-laboured Cause. Then the astonished Sanedrim he stormed, And with such doughty strength the Tug performed: Fate did the Work with so much Conquest bless, Wondrous the Champion, Glorious the Success. So powerful Eloquence, so strong was Wit; And with such Force the easy Windfalls hit. But the entirest Hearts his Cause could steal, Were the Levitick Chiefs of Israel. None with more Rage the Impious Thought run down Of barring Absalon, Power, Wishes, Crown. With so much vehemence, such fiery Zeal! Oh, poor unhappy Church of Israel! Thou feelst the Fate of the Archangel's Wars, The Dragon's Tail sweeps down thy Falling Stars. Nay, the black Vote against Absalon appeared So monstrous, that they damned it ere 'twas heard. For Prelates ne'er in Sanedrims' debate, They argue in the Church, but not i'th' State; And when their Thoughts aslant towards Heaven they turn, They weigh each Grain of Incense that they burn, But t'Heavens Vice-gerents, Soul, Sense, Reason, all, Or right or wrong, like Hecatombs must fall. And when State-business calls their Thoughts below, Then like their own Church-Organ-Pipes they go. Not David's Lyre could more his Touch obey: For as their Princes breathe and strike, they play. Against Royal Will they never can dispute, But by a strange Tarantula struck mute, Dance to no other Tune but Absolute. All Acts of Supreme Power they still admire: 'Tis Sacred, though to set the World on Fire, Though Church-Infallibility they explode, As making Humane knowledge equal God; Infallible in a new name goes down, Not in the Mitre lodged, but in the Crown. 'Tis true, blest Deborahs' Laws they could forget. (But want of Memory commends their Wit.) Where 'twas enacted Treason, not to own Hers and her Sanedrins right to place the Crown. But her weak Heads o'th' Church, mistaken fools, Wanted the Light of their sublimer Schools: For Divine Right could no such Forces bring. But Wisdom now expands her wider Wing, And Streams are ever deeper than the Spring. Besides, they've sense of Honour; and who knows How far the Gratitude of Priest-craft goes? And what if now like old Elisha fed, To praise the Sooty Bird that brought 'em Bread, In pure acknowledgement, though in despite Of their own sense, they paint the Raven White. Achitophel charmed with kind Fortune's Smiles, Flushed with Success, now glows for bolder Toils. Great Wits perverted greatest Mischiefs hold, As poisonous Vapours spring from Mines of Gold. And proud to see himself with Triumph blest, Thus to great Absolom himself addressed. Illustrious Terror of the World, all hail: For ever like your Conquering Self prevail. In spite of Malice in full Luster shine; Be your each Action, Word, and Look Divine. Nay, though our Altars you've so long forborn; To your derided Foes Defeat, and Scorn, For your Renown we have those Trumpets found, Shall even this Deed your highest Glory sound. That spite of the ill-judging World's mistake, Your Soul still owns those Temples you forsake: Only by all-commanding Honour driven, This self-denial you have made with Heaven: Quitting our Altars, cause the Insolence Of profane Sanedrims has driven you thence. A Prince his Faith to such low Slaves reveal! 'Twas Treason though to God to bid You kneel. And what though senseless barking Murmurers scold, And with a Rage too blasphemously bold, Say Israel's Crown's for Esau's Pottage sold. Let 'em rail on; and to strike Envy dumb; May the Slaves live till that great Day shall come, When their hushed Rage shall your keen Vengeance fly, And silenced with your Royal Thunder die. Nay, to outsoar your weak Forefathers Wings, And to be all that Nature first meant Kings; Damned be the Law that Majesty confines, But doubly damned accursed Sanedrins, Invented onely●to eclipse a Crown. Oh throw that dull Mosaic Landmark down. The making Sanedrims a part of Power, Nursed but those Vipers which its Sire devour. Lodged in the Palace towards the Throne they press, For Powers Enjoyment does its Lust increase. Allegiance only is in Chains held fast; Make Men ne'er thirst, is ne'er to let 'em taste. Then, Royal Sir, be Sanedrims no more, Lop off that rank Luxurious Branch of power: Those hungry Scions from the Cedar root, That its Imperial Head towards Heaven may shoot. When Lordly Sanedrims with Kings give Law, And thus in yokes like Mules together draw; From judah's Arms the Royal Lion raze, And Issachars' dull Ass supply the place. If Kings o'er common Mankind have this odds, Are God's Vicegerents; let 'em act like Gods. As Man is heavens own clay, which it may mould For Honour or Dishonour, uncontrolled, And Monarchy is moved by Heavenly Springs; Why is not Humane Fate i'th' Breath of Kings? Then, Sir, from Heaven your great Example take, And be th'unbounded Lord a King should make: Resume what bold Invading Slaves engrossed, And only Powers Effeminacy lost. To this kind Absolom but little spoke; Only returned a Nod, and gracious Look. For though recorded Fame with pride has told, Of his great Actings, Wonders manifold; And his great Think most Diviners guests; Yet his great Speakings no Records express. All things thus safe; and now for one last blow, To give his Foes a total Overthrow; A Blow not in Hell's Legends matched before, The removed Plot's laid at the Enemy's door. The old Plot forged against the Saints of Baal, Cheat, Perjury, and Subornation all, Whilst with a more damned Treason of their own, Like working Moles they're digging round the Throne; Baal, Baal, the cry, and Absolom the Name, But David's glory, Life and Crown the Aim. Nay, if but a Petition peep abroad, Though for the Glory both of Church and God, And to preserve even their yet unborn Heirs; There's Blood and Treason in their very Prayers. This unexampled Impudence upheld; The Governments best Friends, the Crowns best Shield, The Great and Brave with equal Treason brands. Faith, Honour, and Allegiance strongest Bands All broken like the Cords of Samson fall, Whilst th'universal Leprosy taints all. These poisonous shafts with greater spleen they draw, Than the Outrageous Wife of Potypha. So the chaste joseph unseduced to her Adult'ries, was pronounced a Ravasher. This hellish Ethnic Plot the Court alarms; The Traitors seventy thousand strong in Arms, Near Endor Town lay ready at a Call, And garrisoned in Airy Castles all. These Warriors on a fort of Coursers rid, Ne'er lodged in Stables, or by Man bestrid. What though the stee●e with which the Rebels fought, No Forge e'er felt, or Anvil ever wrought? Yet this Magnetic Plot, for black Designs, Can raise cold Iron from the very Mines. To this were twenty Under-plots, contrived By Malice, and by Ignorance believed, Till Shamms met Shamms, and Plots with Plots so crossed, That the True Plot amongst the False was lost. Of all the much-wronged Worthies of the Land Whom this Contagious infamy profaned, In the first Rank the youthful Ithream stood, His Princely Veins filled with great david's Blood. With so much Manly Beauty in his Face, Scarce his High Birth could lend a Nobler Grace. And for a Mind fit for this shrine of Gold Heaven cast his Soul in the same Beauteous Mould; With all the sweets of Prideless Greatness blest, As Affable as Abraham's Angel-Guest. But when in Wars his glittering Steel he drew▪ No Chief more Bold with fiercer Lightning flew▪ Witness his trial of an Arm Divine, Passing the Ordeal of a Burning Mine: Such forward Courage did his Bosom fill, Starting from nothing, but from doing ill. Still with such Heat in Honour's Race he run, Such Wonders by his early Valour done, Enough to charm a second Ioshua's Sun. But he has Fo●●; his fatal Enemies To a strange Monster his Fair Truth disguise; And show the Gorgon even to Royal Eyes. To their false perspectives his Fate he owes, The spots i'th' Glass, not in the Star it shows. Yet when by the Imperial Sentence doomed, The Royal Hand the Princely Youth unplumed, He his hard Fate without a Murmur took, And stood with that Calm, Duteous, Humble look. Of all his shining Honours unarrayed, Like Isaac's Head on Abraham's Altar laid. Yes, Absolom, thou hast him in the Toil, Rifled, and lost; now Triumph in the Spoil. His Zeal too high for Israel's Temples soared, His Godlike Youth by prostrate Hearts adored, Till thy Revenge from Spite and Fear began, And too near Heaven took Care to make him Man. Though Israel's King, God, Laws, share all his Soul, Adorned with all that Heroes can enrol, Yet Vowed Successions cruel Sacrifice, Great Iudah's Son like Ieptha's Daughter dies. Yes, like a Monument of Wrath he stands; Such Ruin Absalon's Revenge demands; His Curiosity his Doom assigned; For 'twas a Chime of as destructive Kind, To pry how Babylon's Burning Zeal aspires, As to look back on Sodoms blazing Fires. But spoiled, and robbed, his drossier Glories gone, His Virtue and his Truth are still his own. No rifling Hands can that bright Treasure take, Nor all his Foes that Royal Charter shake. The dreadfullest Foe their Engines must subdue, The strongest Rock though which their Arts must hew, Was great Barzillai: could they reach his Head, Their Fears all hushed, they had struck Danger dead. That second Moses-Guide resolved to free Our Israel from her threatening Slavery, Idolatry and Chains; both from the Rods Of Pharoh-Masters, and Egyptian Gods: And from that Wilderness of Error freed, Where Dogstars scorch, and kill Serpents breed: That Israel's Liberty and Truth may grow, The Canaan whence our Milk and Honey flow. Such our Barzillai; but Barzillai too, With Moses Fate does Moses Zeal pursue: Leads to that Bliss which his own Silver Hairs Shall never reach, Rich only to his Heirs. Kind Patriot, who to plant us Banks of Flowers, With purling Streams, cool Shades, and Summer Bowers, His Ages needful Rest away does fling, Exhausts his Autumn to adorn our Spring: Whilst his last hours in Toils and Storms are hurled, And only to enrich th'inheriting World. Thus prodigally throws his Lifes short span, To play his Country's generous Pelican. But oh, that all-be-devilled Paper, framed, No doubt, in Hell; that Mass of Treason damned; By Esau's Hands, and Jacob's Voice disclosed; And timely to th' Abhorring World exposed. Nay, what's more wondrous, this wast-paper Tool, A nameless, unsubscribed, and useless scroll, Was, by a Politician great in Fame, (His Chains foreseen a Month before they came) Preserved on purpose, by his prudent care, To brand his Soul, and even his Life ensnare. But then the Geshuritish Troop, well-oathed, And for the sprucer Face, well-fed, and Clothed. These to the Bar Obedient Swearers go, With all the Wind their managed Lungs can blow. So have I seen from Bellows brazen Snout, The Breath drawn in, and by th'same Hand squeezed out. But helping Oaths may innocently fly, When in a Faith where dying Vows can lie. Were Treason and Democracie his Ends, Why was't not proved by his Revolting Friends? Why did not th'Oaths of his once-great Colleagues, Achitophel and the rest prove his Intrigues? Why at the Bar appeared such sordid scum, And all those Nobler Tongues of Honour dumb? Could he his Plots t'his great Allies conceal, He durst to leaky Starving Wretches tell; Such Ignorant Princes, and such knowing Slaves; His Babel building Tools from such poor Knaves. Were he that Monster his new Foes would make Th'unreasoning World believe, his Soul so black, That they in Conscience did his Side forego, Knowing him guilty they could prove him so. Then 'twas not Conscience m●de ●em change their side. Or if they knew, yet did his Treasons hide; In not exposing his detested Crime? They're greater Monsters than they dare think Him. Are these the Proselytes renowned so high, Converts to D●●y, Honour, Loyalty? Poorly they change, who in their change stand mute: Converts to Truth ought Falsehood to confute. To conquering Truth, they but small glory give, Who turn to God, yet let the Dagon live. But who can Amiels charming Wit withstand, The great State-pillar of the Muses Land. For lawless and ungoverned, had the Age The Nine wild Sisters seen run mad with Rage, Debauched to Savages, till his keen Pen Brought their long banished Reason back again, Driven by his Satyrs into Nature's Fence, And lashed the idle Rovers into Sense. Nay, his sly Muse, in Style Prophetic, wrote The whole Intrigue of Israel's Ethnic Plot; Formed strange Battalions, in stupendious-wise, Whole Camps in Masquerade, and Armies in disguise. Amiel, whose generous Gallantry, whilst Fame Shall have a Tongue, shall never want a Name. Who, whilst his Pomp his lavish Gold consumes, Moulted his Wings to lend a Throne his Plumes, Whilst an Ungrateful Court he did attend, Too poor to pay, what it had pride to spend. But; Amiel has, alas, the fate to hear, An angry Poet play his Chronicler; A Poet raised above Ob●i●io●s Shade, By his Recorded Ve●se 〈◊〉 made. But, Sir, his livelier Figure to engrave, With Branches added to the ●ays you gave: No Muse could more He●●ick 〈◊〉 rehearse, Had with an equal all 〈◊〉 plaiding Verse, Great david's S●●p●e●, and Saul's Javelin praised: A Pyramid to his S●int, Interest, raised. For which Religiously ●o Change he missed, From Common-wealth●man up to Royalist: Nay, would have been his own loathed thing called Priest. Priest, whom with so which Gall he does describe, 'Cause once unworthy thought of Levies Tribe. Near those bri●●●●●●i●rs where Art has Wonders done, Where David's sight glads the blessed Summer's Sun; And at his feet proud Iordans Waters run; A Cell there 〈◊〉 by Pi●●● Founders raised, Both for its Wealth and Learned Rabbins praised: To this did an Ambitious Bard aspire, To be no less than Lord of ●hat blessed Choir: Till Wisdom deemed so Sacred a Command, A Prize too, ●●eat for his unhallowed Hand.— Besides, lewd Fame had told his plighted Vow, To Laura's cooing Love perched on a dropping Bough Laura in faithful Constancy confined To Ethiopes Envoy, and to all Mankind. Laura though Rotten, yet of Mould Divine; He had all her Claps, and She had all his Coin. Her Wit so far his Purse and Sense could drain, Till every Pox was sweethed to a Strain. And if at last his Nature can reform, 〈◊〉 weary grown of Love's tumultuous storm, 'Tis Age's Fault, ●ot P●is, of power bereft, He left not Whoring, out of that was left. But wand'ring 〈…〉 thy flagging Wing: To thy more glorious Theme return, and sing Brave Iotha●ms Worth, Impartial, Great, and Just, Of unbribed Faith, had of unshaken Trust: Once Geshurs' Lord, their Throne so nobly filled, As if to th' borrowed Sceptre that he held, Th' inspiring David yet more generous grew, And lent him his Imperial Genius too. Nor has he worn the Royal Image more In Israel's Viceroy, than Ambassador: Witness his Gallantry that resolute hour, When to uphold the Sacred Pride of Power, His stubborn Flags from the Sydonian shore, The angry storms of Thundering Castles bore. But these are Virtues Fame must less admire, Because derived from that Heroic Sire, Who on a Block a dauntless Martyr died, With all the Sweetness of a Smiling Bride; Charmed with the Thought of Honours Starry Pole, With Joy laid down a Head to mount a Soul. Of all the Champions rich in Honour's Scars, Whose Loyalty through David's ancient Wars, (In spite of the triumphant Tyrant's pride,) Was to his lowest Ebb of Fortune tied; No ●●ink more strong in all that Chain of Gold, Then Amasai, the Constant, and the Bold. That Warlike General whose avenging Sword, Through all the Battles of his Royal Lord, Poured all the Fires that Loyal Zeal could light, No brighter Star in the lost David's night. No less with Laurels Ashurs' Brows adorn, That mangled Brave● who with Tires Thunder torm, Brought a dismembered Load of Honour home, And lives to make both th'Earth and Seas his Tomb. With Reverence the Religious Helon treat, Refined from all the looseness of the Great. Halon who ●e●s his Line of Virtue● run Beyond 〈◊〉 ●enter of his Grave, his own Unfinished Luster sparkling in his Son. A Son so high in Sanedrims renowned, In Israel's Interest strong, in Sense profound. Under one Roof here Truth a Goddess dwells, The Pious Father builds her Shrines and Cells, And 〈◊〉 the Son she speaks her Oracles. In the same list young Adriels praise record, Adriel the Academic Neighbour Lord; Adriel ennobled by a Grandfather, And Uncle, both those Glorious Sons of War Both Generals, and both Exiles with their Lord Till with the Royal Wanderer restored, They lived to see his Coronation Pride; Then surfeiting on too much Transport died. O'er Adriels' Head these Hero's Spirits shine, His Soul with so much Loyal Blood fenced in; Such Native Virtues his great Mind adorn, Whilst under their congenial Influence born. In this Record let Camries Name appear, The Great Barzillais Fellow Sufferer; From unknown Hands, of unknown Crimes accused, Till th'hunted Shadow lost, his Chains unloosed. Now to the Sweet-tongued A●ra●● praise be just, Once the State-Advo●ate, that Wealthy Trust, Till Flattery the price of dear-bought Gold, His Innocence for Palaces unsold, To Naked Truths more shining Beauties true, Th'embroidered Man●le from his Neck he threw. Next Hothriel write, Baal's watchful Foe, and late jerusalem's protecting Magistrate▪ Who, when false jurors were to Frenzy Charmed, And against Innocence even Tribunals armed, Saw depraved Justies open her Ravenous Jaw, And timely broke her Canine Teeth of Law. Amongst th'Asserters of his Country's Cause, Give the bold Micah his deserved Applause, The Grateful San●drims repeated Choice, Of Three Great Counsels the Successive Voice. Of 〈◊〉 hardy Tribe of Israel borne, Fear their Disdain, and Flattery their Scorn, Too proud to t●ckle, and too Tough to bend. Of the same Tribe was H●●an●, Ith●eams Friend, From that famed Sire, the Long Robes Glory, sprung, In Sanedrims his Country's Pillar long; Long had he fathomed all the Depths of State; Could with that strength, that ponderous Sense debate, As turned the Scale of Nations with the weight: Till subtley made by Spiteful Honour Great, Preferred to Israel's Chief Tribunal Seat, Made in a higher Orb his Beams dispense, To hush his Formidable Eloquence. But Israel's numerous Worthies are too long And Great a Theme for one continued Song. Yet These by bold flagitious Tongues run down, Made all Conspirers against David's Crown. Nay, and there was a Time, had Hell prevailed, Nor Perjury and Subornation failed, When a long ●ist of Names, for Treason doomed, Had Israel's Patriots in one Grave entombed: A List, with such fair Loyal Colours laid, Even to no less than Royal Hands conveyed. And the great Mover in this pious Fraud, A Dungeon Slave redeemed by● a Midnight Bawd: Then made by Art a Swearer of Renown, Nursed and embraced by th'Heir of judah's Crown: Encouraged too by Pension for Reward, With his forged Scrowls for Guiltless Blood prepaid. Poor Engine for a greatness so sublime: But oh, a Cause by which their Baal must climb, Ennobles both the Actor and the Crime. Yet This, and all Things else now quite blown o'er, And Absolom, his Israel's Fear no more: Luster and Pride shall him his radiant Brow; All Knees shall fall, and prostrate Nations bow. By heavens, he is, he will, he must, he shall Be Israel's Hero, Friend, Saint, Idol, all. What though provoked withal the crying sins Of Murmuring Slaves, excluding Sanedrins: By profane Crowds in dirt his Prophets spurned, And even his Gods in mock Processions burned: Himself from Israel into Hebron sent, And doomed to little less than Banishment. In spite of all his Scrowls to Babylon; And all the promised Wonders to be done, When Egypt's Frogs should croak on judah's Throne. Though of a Faith that propagates in Blood; Of Passions unforgiving, less withstood Then Seas and Tempesta, and as Deaf as they. Yet all Divine shall be his Godlike Sway, And his calm Reign but one long Halcyon Day. And this Great Truth he's damned that da●es deny; Against Absolom even Oracles would lie; Though Sense and Reason Preach 'tis Blasphemy. Then let our dull Mistaken Terror cease▪ When even our Comets speak all Health and Peace. FINIS. ERRATA. THE Reader is desired to Correct these following Mistakes. Page 1. 〈◊〉 1●. for Ibid, read 〈◊〉▪ p. 4. l. 22. r. Ships; ibid. l. 26. for Kindled, r. 〈◊〉; ibid. l. ●2, ●. the Mighty; ibid. l. 37. for they r. thus; p. 7. l. 18. for poor, r. weak; p. 9 l. 3. & 4. for his r. ●; l. 6. for the, r. ye; ibid. l. ●0. r. Walls▪ the Billows pour; p. ●●. l. 〈◊〉 loved Israel● p. 19 l. 27. for lo● ●. 〈◊〉 p. ●2. l. ●●● Excluding.