Anti-Achitophel (1682) Part 4

Hear _Israels_ 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 G.o.d, A Soul beatifyed, the blest Abode Thus low deserting, quits Immortal Thrones, And from his Grave resumes his sleeping Bones.

But Heavn's the Guide, and wondrous is the way, Divine the Emba.s.sie: hear, and obey.

How long, _Achitophel_, and how profound A Mist of h.e.l.l has thy lost Reason drown'd?

Can the Apostacy from _Israels_ Faith, In _Israels_ 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 Heav'n, and guard him every Star.

Alas, what if an Heir of Royal Race, G.o.ds 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 at G.o.ds Command, Think still he does by _Divine Right_ succeed: G.o.d bids Him Reign, and you should bid Them Bleed.

'Tis true, as Heav'ns Elected Flock, you may For his Conversion, and your Safety _pray_ But Pray'rs are all. To Disinherit him, The very Thought, nay, Word it self's a Crime.

For that's the MEANS of Safety: but forbear, For Means are Impious in the Sons of Pray'r.

To Miracles alone your Safety owe; And _Abrahams_ Angel wait to stop the Blow.

Yes, what if his polluted Throne be strowd With Sacriledge, 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: Rowze then _Achitophel_, rowze up for shame: Let not this Lethargy thy Soul benum; But wake, and save the G.o.dlike _Absolom_.

And to reward thee for a Deed so great Glut thy Desires, thy full-crown'd wishes meet, Be with acc.u.mulated Honours blest, And grasp a STAR t'adorn thy shining Crest.

_Achitophel_ before his Eyes could ope, Dreamt of an Ephod, Mitre, and a Cope.

Those visionary Robes t'his Eyes appear'd: 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 wak'd; the _Star_ but nam'd, Flasht in his Eyes, and his rowz'd Soul enflam'd.

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 G.o.d, his to betray.

Here the new Convert more than half inspir'd, Strait to his Closet and his Books retir'd.

There for all needful Arts in this extreme, For knotty Sophistry t'a limber Theme, Long brooding ere the Ma.s.s to Shape was brought, And after many a tugging heaving Thought, Together a well-orderd Speech he draws, With ponderous Sounds for his much-labour'd Cause.

Then the astonisht Sanedrim he storm'd, And with such doughty strength the Tug perform'd: 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 easie Wind-falls. .h.i.t.

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 _Absolon_, Pow'r, Wishes, Crown.

With so much vehemence, such fiery Zeal!

Oh, poor unhappy Church of _Israel!_ Thou feelst the Fate of the Arch-angels Wars, The Dragons Tayl sweeps down thy Falling Stars.

Nay, the black Vote 'gainst _Absolon_ appear'd So monstrous, that they d.a.m.n'd it ere 'twas heard.

For Prelates ne'r in Sanedrims debate, They argue in the Church, but not i'th' State; And when their Thoughts aslant towards Heav'n 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 _Davids_ Lyre could more his Touch obey: For as their Princes breathe and strike, they play.

'Gainst Royal Will they never can dispute, } But by a strange _Tarantula_ strook 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 G.o.d; 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 oth' 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 Grat.i.tude of Priest-craft goes?

And what if now like old _Elisha_ fed, To praise the Sooty Bird that brought 'em Bread, In pure acknowledgment, though in despight Of their own sense, they paint the Raven White.

_Achitophel_ charm'd with kind Fortunes Smiles, Flusht with Success, now glows for bolder Toyls.

Great Wits perverted greatest Mischiefs hold, As poysonous Vapors spring from Mines of Gold.

And proud to see himself with Triumph blest, Thus to great _Absolom_ himself addrest.

Ill.u.s.trious Terrour of the World, all hayle: For ever like your Conquering Self prevaile.

In spight of Malice in full l.u.s.ter shine; Be your each Action, Word, and Look Divine, Nay, though our Altars you've so long forborne; To your derided Foes Defeat, and Scorne, For your Renown we have those Trumpets found, Shall ev'n this Deed your highest Glory sound.

That spight of the ill-judging Worlds mistake, Your Soul still owns those Temples you forsake: Onely by all-commanding Honour driven, This self-denial you have made with Heav'n: Quitting our Altars, cause the Insolence Of prophane Sanedrims has driven you thence.

A Prince his Faith to such low Slaves reveal!

'Twas Treason though to G.o.d to bid You kneel.

And what though senseless barking Murmurers scold, } And with a Rage too blasphemously bold, } Say _Israels_ Crown's for _Esau_'s Pottage sold. } Let 'em rayl on; and to strike Envy dumb; May the Slaves live till that great Day shall come, When their husht Rage shall your keen Vengeance fly, And silenc'd with your Royal Thunder dye.

Nay, to outsoar your weak Fore-fathers Wings, And to be all that Nature first meant Kings; d.a.m.n'd be the Law that Majesty confines, But doubly d.a.m.n'd accursed Sanedrins, Invented onely to eclipse a Crown.

Oh throw that dull Mosaick Land-mark down.

The making Sanedrims a part of Pow'r, Nurst but those Vipers which its Sire devour.

Lodg'd in the Pallace tow'rds the Throne they press, For Pow'rs Enjoyment does its l.u.s.t increase.

Allegiance onely is in Chains held fast; Make Men ne're thirst, is ne're to let 'em tast.

Then, Royal Sir, be Sanedrims no more, Lop off that rank Luxurious Branch of pow'r: Those hungry _Scions_ from the _Cedar_ root, That its Imperial Head towards Heav'n may shoot.

When Lordly Sanedrims with Kings give Law, And thus in yokes like Mules together draw; From _Judahs_ Arms the Royal Lyon raze, And _Issachars_ dull a.s.s supply the place.

If Kings o're common Mankind have this odds, Are G.o.ds Vicegerents; let 'em act like G.o.ds.

As Man is Heav'ns own clay, which it may mould For Honour or Dishonour, uncontrould, And Monarchy is mov'd by Heav'nly Springs; Why is not Humane Fate i'th' Breath of Kings?

Then, Sir, from Heav'n your great Example take, And be th'unbounded Lord a King should make: Resume what bold Invading Slaves engrost, And onely Pow'rs Effeminacy lost.

To this kind _Absolom_ but little spoke; Onely return'd a Nod, and gracious Look.

For though recorded Fame with pride has told, Of his great Actings, Wonders manifold; And his great Thinkings most Diviners guess; 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 h.e.l.ls Legends match'd before, The remov'd Plot's laid at the Enemies door.

The old Plot forg'd against the Saints of _Baal_, Cheat, Perjury, and Subornation all, Whilst with a more d.a.m.n'd Treason of their own, Like working Moles they're digging round the Throne; _Baal_, _Baal_, the cry, and _Absolom_ the Name, But _Davids_ glory, Life and Crown the Aim.

Nay, if but a Pet.i.tion peep abroad, Though for the Glory both of Church and G.o.d, 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 Sheild, The Great and Brave with equal Treason brands.

Faith, Honour, and Allegiance strongest Bands All broken like the Cords of _Sampson_ fall, Whilst th'universal Leprosie taints all.

These poysonous shafts with greater spleen they draw, Than the Outragious Wife of _Potypha_.

So the chast _Joseph_ unseduc'd to her Adult'ries, was p.r.o.nounc'd a Ravisher.

This h.e.l.lish Ethnick Plot the Court alarms; The Traytors seventy thousand strong in Arms, Near _Endor_ Town lay ready at a Call, And garrison'd in Airy Castles all.

These Warriours on a sort of Coursers rid, Ne'r log'd in Stables, or by Man bestrid.

What though the steele with which the Rebels fought, No Forge e're felt, or Anvile ever wrought?

Yet this Magnetick Plot, for black Designs, Can raise cold Iron from the very Mines.

To this were twenty Under-plots, contriv'd By Malice, and by Ignorance believ'd, Till Shamms met Shamms, and Plots with Plots so crost, That the True Plot amongst the False was lost.

Of all the much-wrong'd Worthies of the Land Whom this Contagious Infamy profan'd, In the first Rank the youthful _Ithream_ stood, His Princely Veins fill'd with great _Davids_ Blood.

With so much Manly Beauty in his Face, Scarce his High Birth could lend a n.o.bler 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 _Abrahams_ Angel-Guest.

But when in Wars his glittering Steel he drew, No Chief more Bold with fiercer Lightning flew: Witness his tryal of an Arm Divine, Pa.s.sing the Ordeal of a _Burning Mine_: Such forward Courage did his Bosome fill, Starting from nothing, but from doing ill.

Still with such Heat in Honours Race he run, } Such Wonders by his early Valour done, } Enough to charm a second _Joshua's_ Sun. } But he has Foes; his fatal Enemies } To a strange Monster his Fair Truth disguise; } And shew the Gorgon even to Royal Eyes. } To their false perspectives his Fate he owes, The spots i'th' Gla.s.s, not in the Star it shows.

Yet when by the Imperial Sentence doom'd, The Royal Hand the Princely Youth unplum'd, He his hard Fate without a Murmur took, And stood with that Calm, Duteous, Humble look.

Of all his shining Honours unarray'd, Like _Isaac's_ Head on _Abrahams_ Altar lay'd.

Yes, _Absolom_, thou hast him in the Toyl, Rifled, and lost; now Triumph in the Spoyl.

His Zeal too high for _Israels_ Temples soar'd, His G.o.d-like Youth by prostrate Hearts ador'd, Till thy Revenge from Spight and Fear began, And too near Heaven took Care to make him Man.

Though _Israels_ King, G.o.d, Laws, share all his Soul, Adorn'd with all that Heroes can enrol, Yet Vow'd Successions cruel Sacrifice, Great _Judah_'s Son like _Jeptha_'s Daughter dies.

Yes, like a Monument of Wrath he stands; Such Ruine _Absolons_ Revenge demands; His Curiosity his Doom a.s.sign'd: For 'twas a Crime of as destructive Kind, To pry how _Babylons_ Burning Zeal aspires, As to look back on Sodoms blazing Fires.

But spoyl'd, and rob'd, 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 dreadful'st Foe their Engines must subdue, The strongest Rock through which their Arts must hew, Was great _Barzillai_: could they reach his Head, Their Fears all husht, they had strook Danger dead.

That second _Moses_-Guide resolv'd to free Our _Israel_ from her threatning Slavery, Idolatry and Chains; both from the Rods Of _Pharoh_-Masters, and _Egyptian_ G.o.ds: And from that Wilderness of Errour freed, Where Dogstars scorch, and killing Serpents breed: That _Israels_ 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 onely to his Heirs.

Kind Patriot, who to plant us Banks of Flow'rs, With purling Streams, cool Shades, and Summer Bow'rs, His Ages needful Rest away does fling, Exhausts his Autumn to adorn our Spring: Whilst his last hours in Toyls and Storms are hurl'd, And onely to enrich th'inheriting World.

Thus prodigally throws his Lifes short span, To play his Countries generous Pelican.

But oh, that all-be-devill'd Paper, fram'd No doubt, in h.e.l.l; that Ma.s.s of Treason d.a.m.n'd; By _Esau_'s Hands, and _Jacobs_ Voice disclos'd; And timely to th' Abhorring World expos'd.

Nay, what's more wondrous, this wast-paper Tool, A nameless, unsubscrib'd, and useless scrowl, Was, by a Politician great in Fame, (His Chains foreseen a Month before they came) Preserv'd on purpose, by his prudent care, To brand his Soul, and ev'n his Life ensnare.

But then the Geshuritish Troop, well-Oath'd, And for the sprucer Face, well-fed, and Cloath'd.

These to the Bar Obedient Swearers go, With all the Wind their manag'd Lungs can blow.