Now, manifeft of Crimes, contriv'd long fince,
He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince :
the Buckler of the Peoples Caufe, Against the Crown; and fculk'd behind the Laws. The wish'd occafion of the Plot he takes ;
Some Circumftances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing Emiffaries, fills the ears
Of liftning Crouds, with Jealoufies and Fears
Of Arbitrary Counfels brought to light,
And proves the King himself a Jebusite.
Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were ftrong with People eafie to Rebel.
For, govern'd by the Moon, the giddy Jews`
Tread the fame Track when the the Prime renews:
And once in twenty years, their Scribes record,
By natural Inftinct they change their Lord.
Achitophel ftill wants a Chief, and none
Was found fo fit as War-like Abfalom.
Nof, that he wifh'd his greatness to create,
(For Politicians neither love nor hate :)
But, for he knew, his Title not allow'd,
Would keep him ftill depending on the Croud:
That Kingly pow'r, thus ebbing out, might be
Drawn to the Dregs of a Democracy..
Him he attempts, with ftudied Arts to please,
And sheds his Venom in fuch words as thefe.
Aufpicious Prince, at whofe Nativity
Some Royal Planet rul'd the Southern Sky;
Thy longing Countrey's Darling and Defire;
Their cloudy Pillar, and their guardian Fire:
Their fecond Mofes, whofe extended Wand
Divides the Seas, and fhews the promis'd Land:
Whofe dawning Day, in every diftant Age,
Has exercis'd the Sacred Prophet's rage:
The People's Pray'r, 'the glad Diviner's Theme,
The Young mens Vifion, and the old mens Dream!
Thee, Saviour, Thee, the Nation's Vows confefs;
And, never fatisfy'd with feeing, bless:
Swift, unbespoken Pomps, thy fteps proclaim,
And ftammering Babes are taught to lifp thy Name,
How long wilt thou the general Joy detain,
Starve, and defraud the People of thy Reign?
Content ingloriously to pass thy days
Like one of Virtue's Fools that feeds on Praise;
Till thy fresh Glories, which now shine so bright,
Grow Stale and Tarnish with our dayly fight.
Believe me, Royal Youth, thy Fruit must be
Or gather'd Ripe, or rot upon the Tree.
Heav'n has to all allotted, foon or late,
Some lucky Revolution of their Fate:
Whofe Motions, if we watch and guide with Skill,
(For human Good depends on human Will,)
Our Fortune rolls as from a fmooth defcent,
And from the first Impreffion, takes the Bent:
But, if unseiz'd, she glides away like wind;
And leaves repenting Folly far behind.
Now, now the meets you with a glorious prize,
And fpreads her Locks before her as the flies.
Had thus Old David, from whofe Loins you Spring,
Not dar'd, when Fortune call'd him, to be King,
At Gath an Exile he might ftill remain;
And Heav'ns Anointing Oil had been in vain.
Let his fuccefsful Youth your hopes ingage;
But fhun th' example of Declining Age:
Behold him fetting in his Western Skies,
The fhadows lengthning as the Vapours rife.
He is not now, as when on Jordan's Sand
The joyful People throng'd to see him Land,
Cov'ring the Beech, and blackning all the Strand:
But, like the Prince of Angels from his height,
Comes tumbling downward with diminish'd light:
Betray'd by one poor Plot to publick Scorn:
(Our only bleffing fince his curft Return :)
Thofe heaps of People which one Sheaf did bind,
Blown off, and scatter'd by a puff of Wind,
What ftrength can he to your Designs oppose,
Naked of Friends, and round befet with Foes!
If Pharaoh's doubtful Succour he should use,
A Foreign Aid wou'd more incenfe the Jews:
Proud Egypt wou'd diffembled Friendship bring;
Foment the War, but not support the King:
Nor wou'd the Royal Party e'er unite
With Pharaoh's Arms, t'affift the Jebusite;
Or if they fhou'd, their Int❜reft foon wou'd break,
And, with fuch odious Aid, make David weak.
All forts of men, by my fuccessful Arts,
Abhorring Kings, eftrange their alter'd Hearts
From David's Rule: And 'tis their general Cry,
Religion, Common-wealth, and Liberty.
If you, as Champion of the Publick Good,
Add to their Arms a Chief of Royal Blood,
What may not Ifrael hope, and what Applause
Might fuch a Gen'ral gain by fuch a Caufe?
Not barren Praife alone, that Gaudy Flow'r,
Fair only to the fight, but folid Pow'r:
And Nobler is a limited Command,
Giv'n by the Love of all your Native Land,
Than a fucceffive Title, Long and Dark,
Drawn from the Mouldy Rolls of Noah's Ark.
What cannot Praise effect in Mighty Minds,
When Flattery Sooths, and when Ambition Blinds!
Defire of Pow'r, on Earth a Vitious Weed,
Yet, fprung from High, is of Cœleftial Seed:
In God 'tis Glory: And when Men aspire,
'Tis but a Spark too much of Heav'nly Fire.
Th' Ambitious Youth, too Covetous of Fame,
Too full of Angels Metal in his Frame;
Unwarily was led from Virtue's ways;
Made Drunk with Honour, and debauch'd with
Half loath, and half consenting to the III,
(For Royal Blood within him struggled ftill)
He thus reply'd.---And what Pretence have I
To take up Arms for Publick Liberty?
My Father Governs with unqueftion'd Right:
The Faith's Defender, and Mankind's Delight:
Good, Gracious, Juft, Obfervant of the Laws;
And Heav'n by Wonders has efpous'd his Cause.
Whom has he wrong'd in all his peaceful Reign
Who fues for Juftice to his Throne in vain ?
What Millions has he pardon'd of his Foes,
Whom juft Revenge did to his Wrath expofe?
Mild, Eafie, Humble, Studious of our Good;
Enclin'd to Mercy, and averfe from Blood.
If Mildness ill with Stubborn Ifrael fuit,
His Crime is God's beloved Attribute.
What could he gain, his People to betray,
Or change his Right, for Arbitrary Sway?
Let haughty Pharaoh Curse with such a Reign
His Fruitful Nile, and Yoak a Servile Train,
If David's Rule Jerufalem Displease,
The Dog-star heats their Brains to this Disease.
Why then fhould I, encouraging the Bad,
Turn Rebel, and run popularly Mad?.
Were he a Tyrant who, by Lawless Might,
Oppreft the Jews, and rais'd the Jebusite,
Well might I Mourn; but Nature's holy bands
Wou'd curb my Spirits, and reftrain my Hands:
The People might affert their Liberty;
But what was Right in them, were Crime in me..
His Favour leaves me nothing to require;
Prevents my Wishes, and out-runs Defire;
What more can I expect while David lives?
All but his Kingly Diadem he gives:
And that---But there he paus'd; then fighing, faid,
Is juftly deftin'd for a Worthier Head.
For when my Father from his Toils fhall reft,
And late Augment the Number of the Bleft:
His Lawful Iffue fhall the Throne afcend;
Or the Collai'ral Line where that fhall end.
His Brother, though Oppreft with Vulgar Spight,
Yet Dauntless and Secure of Natiye Right,
Of every Royal Virtue ftands poffeft;
Still dear to all the Braveft, and the Best.
His Courage Foes, his Friends his Truth Proclaim;
His Loyalty the King, the World his Fame.
His Mercy ev'n th' offending Croud will find;
For fure he comes of a Forgiving Kind.
Why fhould I then Repine at Heav'n's Decree ;
Which gives me no Pretence to Royalty?
Yet oh that Fate, propitiously inclin'd,
Had rais'd my Birth, or had debas'd my Mind,
To my large Soul not all her Treasure lent,
And then betray'd it to a mean Descent.
I find, I find my mounting Spirits Bold,
And David's part difdains my Mother's Mold.
Why am I scanted by a Niggard Birth ?
My Soul difclaims the Kindred of her Earth;
And, made for Empire, whispers me within ;
Defire of Greatnefs is a God-like Sin.
- Him ftaggering fo when Hell's dire Agent found, While fainting Virtue fcarce maintain'd her Ground, He pours fresh Forces in, and thus Replies:
Th' Eternal God, fupremely Good and Wife,
Imparts not thefe prodigious Gifts in vain ;
What Wonders are Referv'd to blefs your Reign?
Against your will your Arguments have shown,
Such Virtue's only given to guide a Throne.
Not that your Father's Mildness I contemn;
But manly Force becomes the Diadem.
'Tis true, he grants the People all they crave;
And more perhaps than Subjects ought to have:
For Lavish Grants fuppofe a Monarch tame,
And more his Goodness than his Wit proclaim.
But when should People ftrive their bonds to break,
If not when Kings are negligent or weak?
Let him give on till he can give no more,
The Thrifty Sanhedrin fhall keep him poor:
And every Shekel which he can receive,
Shall coft a Limb of his Prerogative.
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