No More Learning

Malchus, a puny Levite, void of sense
And grace, but stuff'd with noise and impudence,
Was his prime tool; so venomous a brute,
That every place he lived in spued him out.
Lies in his mouth, and malice in his heart,
By nature grew, and were improved by art;
Mischief his pleasure was, and all his joy,
To see his thriving calumny destroy
Those, whom his double heart, and forked tongue,
Surer than vipers' teeth, to death had stung.

NABOTH--STAFFORD.

Naboth, among the tribes, the foremost place,
Did, with his riches, birth, and virtue grace,
A man, whose wealth was the poor's common stock;
The hungry found their market in his flock.
His justice made all law contentions cease;
He was his neighbours' safeguard, and their peace:
The rich by him were in due bounds contained;
The poor, if strong, employed; if weak, maintained.
Well had he served his country and his king,
And the best troops in all their wars did bring;
Nor with less bravery did he lead them on,
Warding his country's danger with his own.
]

[Footnote 209: The following lines occur in "The Badger in the
Fox-trap," published, as appears from Mr Luttrell's jotting, about 9th
July, 1681, four months before the appearance of Dryden's poem:

Besides, my titles are as numerous
As all my actions various, still, and humourous.
Some call me Tory, some _Achitophel_,
Some Jack-a-Dandy, some old Machiavel;
Some call me Devil, some his foster-brother,
And Turncoat rebel all the nation over.

An accidental anticipation of the names imposed on Shaftesbury and the
King occurs, where the author seems to have been inspired with prophecy
at least, if not with poetry; namely, in "Verses on the blessed and
happy Coronation of Charles II. King of England, &c. printed at the
hearty desires of Persons of Quality; by John Rich, Gentleman:"

Preserve thy David; and he that rebells,
Confound his councells, like Achitophell's.
]

[Footnote 210: See the Dedication of "Tyrannic Love," addressed to
Monmouth, Vol. III. p. 346; and the "Vindication of the Duke of Guise,"
where Dryden says, "The obligations I have had to him were those of his
countenance, his favour, his good word, and his esteem, all of which I
have likewise had in a greater measure from his excellent Duchess, the
patroness of my poor unworthy poetry. " Vol. VII. p. 162. ]

[Footnote 211: By recommending, it is said, his son to the
charter-home, of which Shaftesbury is said to have been a governor.
But, from the records of the foundation, it appears that Erasmus Henry
Dryden, the third son of the poet, to whom, if to any, the story
must apply, was not admitted a scholar till more than a year after
the publication of the second edition of the poem, containing the
additional lines above quoted, to which the said admission is stated
to have given occasion. There are, besides, two admirable reasons for
believing that Shaftesbury had no hand in this matter, since, first,
young Dryden was admitted on the recommendation of the king himself;
secondly, Shaftesbury happened to be dead at the time. See _Malone's
Dryden_, Vol. I. p. 148. The following is the note of admissions
referred to by Mr. Malone:

"October 6th, 1681, [six weeks before the publication of 'Absalom and
Achitophel'] Samuel Weaver, admitted for the Lord Shaftesbury.

"Feb. 5th, 1682-3, Erasmus-Henry Dryden, admitted _for his majesty_ (in
the room of Orlando Bagnall); aged 14 years, 2d of May next.

"Nov. 2d, 1685, Erasmus Dryden and Richard Tubb left the house.

"Elected to the University. "]

[Footnote 212: Of this it would be endless to quote proofs: The
following four extracts from the libels of the time are more than
sufficient.

"A Congratulatory Poem upon the Happy Arrival of his Royal Highness
James Duke of York, at London, April 8th, 1682:"

And Absalom, thou piece of ill-placed beauty,
As happy be as fair, and know thy duty;
For somewhat in that noble frame I saw,
Which, or a father, or a king can awe.

"The Norwich Loyal Litany:"

But may the beauteous youth come home,
And do the thing that's fit,
Or I must tell that Absalom,
He has more hair than wit.

May he be wise, and soon expell
The old fox, th' old fawning elf;
The time draws near, Achitophel
Shan't need to hang himself.

"His Royal Highness the Duke of York's Welcome to London, a
congratulatory Poem:"

So let it mourn, and Ignoramus find
How unsuccessfully it spared its kind,
When sneaking, trembling, false Achitophel
Hath refuge to the cunning Hangman's spell;
And by one fatal tie, those numerous knots
Dissolves, of all his rogueries, shams, and plots.

"Good News in Bad Times; or Absalom's Return to David's Bosom. 30th
Nov. 1683. "]

[Footnote 213: Mr Malone quotes two instances of sermons upon this
topic; one entitled, "Achitophel's Policy Defeated;" preached on the
thanksgiving after the Rye-house conspiracy, and another on the same
subject, with nearly the same title, Vol. III. p. 293. ]

[Footnote 214: An address from Liverpool assures Charles, that "the
councils of your faithful Hushais shall ever prevail against the
united force of all-aspiring Absaloms, and the desperate advice of all
pestilent Achitophels. " Another, from Morpeth, denounces "all mutinous
Corahs, rebellious Absaloms, and perfidious Achitophels. "]

[Footnote 215: This appears by a note upon Mr Luttrell's copy, "17th
November, _ex dono amici Jacobi Tonson_. " He has further labelled it
"An excellent Poem against the Duke of Monmouth, Earl of Shaftesbury,
and that party, and in vindication of the king and his friends. "]

[Footnote 216: "Towser the second, a bull-dog, or a short reply to
Absalom and Achitophel;"

In pious times, when poets were well banged
For sawcy satire, and for sham plots hanged,
A learned bard, that long commanded had
The trembling stage in chief, at length ran mad.

* * * * *

For, since he has given o'er to plague the stage
With the effects of his poetic rage,
Like a mad dog he runs about the streets,
Snarling and biting every one he meets:
The other day he met our royal Charles,
And his two mistresses, and at them snarls;
Then falls upon the numbers of state,
Treats them all _a-la-mode de Billinsgate_.
]




TO THE READER.


It is not my intention to make an apology for my poem; some will
think it needs no excuse, and others will receive none. The design
I am sure is honest; but he who draws his pen for one party, must
expect to make enemies of the other. For wit and fool, are consequents
of Whig and Tory;[217] and every man is a knave or an ass to the
contrary side. There is a treasury of merits in the fanatic church,
as well as in the popish; and a pennyworth to be had of saintship,
honesty, and poetry, for the lewd, the factious, and the blockheads;
but the longest chapter in Deuteronomy has not curses enough for an
Anti-Bromingham. [218] My comfort is, their manifest prejudice to my
cause will render their judgment of less authority against me. Yet, if
a poem have genius, it will force its own reception in the world; for
there is a sweetness in good verse, which tickles even while it hurts;
and no man can be heartily angry with him who pleases him against his
will. The commendation of adversaries is the greatest triumph of a
writer, because it never comes unless extorted. But I can be satisfied
on more easy terms; if I happen to please the more moderate sort, I
shall be sure of an honest party, and, in all probability, of the
best judges; for the least concerned are commonly the least corrupt.
And I confess I have laid in for those, by rebating the satire, where
justice would allow it, from carrying too sharp an edge. They who
can criticise so weakly, as to imagine I have done my worst, may be
convinced, at their own cost, that I can write severely, with more
ease than I can gently. I have but laughed at some men's follies, when
I could have declaimed against their vices; and other men's virtues I
have commended, as freely as I have taxed their crimes. And now, if
you are a malicious reader, I expect you should return upon me, that
I affect to be thought more impartial than I am; but if men are not
to be judged by their professions, God forgive you commonwealth's-men
for professing so plausibly for the government! You cannot be so
unconscionable as to charge me for not subscribing my name; for that
would reflect too grossly upon your own party, who never dare, though
they have the advantage of a jury to secure them. If you like not my
poem, the fault may possibly be in my writing; though it is hard for
an author to judge against himself: but more probably it is in your
morals, which cannot bear the truth of it. The violent on both sides
will condemn the character of Absalom, as either too favourably or too
hardly drawn. But they are not the violent whom I desire to please. The
fault on the right hand is to extenuate, palliate, and indulge; and, to
confess freely, I have endeavoured to commit it. Besides the respect
which I owe his birth, I have a greater for his heroic virtues; and
David himself could not be more tender of the young man's life, than I
would be of his reputation. But since the most excellent natures are
always the most easy, and, as being such, are the soonest perverted by
ill counsels, especially when baited with fame and glory, it is no more
a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it
was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the
woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute,
because I could not obtain from myself to shew Absalom unfortunate.
The frame of it was cut out but for a picture to the waist; and if the
draught be so far true, it is as much as I designed.

Were I the inventor, who am only the historian, I should certainly
conclude the piece, with the reconcilement of Absalom to David. And
who knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an
extremity where I left the story; there seems yet to be room left for a
composure; hereafter there may be only for pity. I have not so much as
an uncharitable wish against Achitophel, but am content to be accused
of a good-natured error, and to hope with Origen, that the devil
himself may at last be saved. For which reason, in this poem, he is
neither brought to set his house in order, nor to dispose of his person
afterwards as he in wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful;
and his vicegerent is only not so, because he is not infinite.

The true end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction. And
he, who writes honestly, is no more an enemy to the offender, than
the physician to the patient, when he prescribes harsh remedies to
an inveterate disease; for those are only in order to prevent the
chirurgeon's work of an _Ense rescindendum_, which I wish not to my
very enemies. To conclude all; if the body politic have any analogy to
the natural, in my weak judgment, an act of oblivion were as necessary
in a hot distempered state, as an opiate would be in a raging fever.


RECOMMENDATORY VERSES.

The following Recommendatory Verses, Dryden thought worthy of being
prefixed to the later editions of his "Absalom and Achitophel," for
which reason they are here retained. It will be observed, that they all
mention the author as unknown. This, however, we are not to understand
literally; since it is obvious, from the contemporary libels, that
Dryden was well known for the author. But, till he placed his name
in the title page, his friends were not to affect to know more than
that told them; as it is impolite to recognize a person who affects a
disguise.


TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS EXCELLENT POEM.

Take it as earnest of a faith renewed,
Your theme is vast, your verse divinely good:
Where, though the Nine their beauteous stroaks repeat, }
And the turned lines on golden anvils beat, }
It looks as if they strook them at a heat. }
So all serenely great, so just refined, }
Like angels love to humane seed enclined, }
It starts a giant, and exalts the kind. }
'Tis spirit seen, whose fiery atoms roul,
So brightly fierce, each syllable's a soul.
'Tis miniature of man, but he's all heart;
'Tis what the world would be, but wants the art;
To whom even the Phanatics altars raise,
Bow in their own despite, and grin your praise.
As if a Milton from the dead arose,
Filed off the rust, and the right party chose.
Nor, Sir, be shocked at what the gloomy say,
Turn not your feet too inward, nor too splay.
'Tis gracious all, and great; push on your theme,
Lean your grieved head on David's diadem.
David, that rebel Israel's envy moved,
David, by God and all good men beloved.
The beauties of your Absalom excell;
But more the charms of charming Annabel;
Of Annabel, than May's first morn more bright,
Chearfull as summer's noon, and chast as winter's night.
Of Annabel the muses dearest theme,
Of Annabel the angel of my dream.
Thus let a broken eloquence attend,
And to your master-piece these shadows send.


TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS ADMIRABLE POEM.

I thought,--forgive my sin,--the boasted fire
Of poets' souls did long ago expire;
Of folly or of madness did accuse
The wretch that thought himself possest with muse;
Laughed at the God within, that did inspire
With more than human thoughts the tuneful quire;
But sure 'tis more than fancy, or the dream
Of rhimers slumbring by the muses stream.
Some livelier spark of heaven, and more refined
From earthly dross, fills the great poet's mind.
Witness these mighty and immortal lines,
Through each of which th' informing genius shines.
Scarce a diviner flame inspired the king,
Of whom thy muse does so sublimely sing.
Not David's self could in a nobler verse
His gloriously offending son rehearse,
Though in his breast the prophet's fury met
The father's fondness, and the poet's wit.
Here all consent in wonder and in praise,
And to the unknown poet altars raise.
Which thou must needs accept with equal joy,
As when Ænæas heard the wars of Troy,
Wrapt up himself in darkness and unseen,
Extolled with wonder by the Tyrian Queen.
Sure thou already art secure of fame,
Nor want'st new glories to exalt thy name;
What father else would have refused to own
So great a son as god-like Absalon? R. D.


TO THE CONCEALED AUTHOR OF THIS INCOMPARABLE POEM.

Hail heaven-born muse! hail every sacred page!
The glory of our isle and of our age.
The inspiring sun to Albion draws more nigh, }
The north at length teems with a work to vie }
With Homer's flame and Virgil's majesty. }
While Pindus lofty heights our poet sought, }
(His ravisht mind with vast ideas fraught,) }
Our language failed beneath his rising thought; }
This checks not his attempt, for Maro's mines, }
He drains of all their gold t'adorn his lines; }
Through each of which the Mantuan Genius shines. }
The rock obeyed the powerful Hebrew guide,
Her flinty breast, dissolved into a tide;
Thus on our stubborn language he prevails,
And makes the Helicon in which he sails.
The dialect, as well as sense, invents,
And, with his poem, a new speech presents.
Hail then thou matchless bard, thou great unknown,
That give your country fame, yet shun your own!
In vain--for every where your praise you find,
And not to meet it, you must shun mankind.
Your loyal theme each loyal reader draws, }
And even the factious give your verse applause, }
Whose lightning strikes to ground their idol cause. }
The cause for whose dear sake they drank a flood
Of civil gore, nor spared the royal-blood;
The cause whose growth to crush, our prelates wrote
In vain, almost in vain our Heroes fought.
Yet by one stab of your keen satyr dies;
Before your sacred lines their shattered Dagon lies.
Oh! If unworthy we appear to know
The sire, to whom this lovely birth we owe;
Denyed our ready homage to express,
And can at best but thankfull be by guess;
This hope remains,--May David's god-like mind,
(For him 'twas wrote) the unknown author find;
And, having found, shower equal favours down,
On wit so vast as could oblige a crown. N. T.

Some scribbler of the day also, thinking Dryden's meaning not
sufficiently clear, wrote "Absalon's ix worthies, or a key to a late
book, or poem, entitled AB, and AC," marked by Mr Luttrell, as bought,
10 March 1682-3. It concludes with the following address.


TO THE AUTHOR OF THAT INCOMPARABLE POEM ABOVE MENTIONED.

Homer, amazed, resigns the hill to you,
And stands i'the crowd, amidst the panting crew;
Virgil and Horace dare not shew their face,
And long admired Juv'nal quits his place;
For this one mighty poem hath done more
Than all those poets could have done before.
Satyr, or statesman, poet, or divine,
Thou any thing, thou every thing thats fine,
Thy lines will make young Absalon relent;
And, though 'tis hard, Achitophel repent;
And stop--as thou has done----
Thus once thy rival muse, on Cooper's hill,
With the true story would not Fatme[220] kill.
No politics exclude repentance quite;
Despair makes rebels obstinately fight;
'Tis well when errors do for mercy call;
Unbloody conquests are the best of all.
Methinks I see a numerous mixed croud
Of seduced patriots crying out aloud
For grace, to royal David. He, with tears,
Holds forth his sceptre, to prevent their fears,
And bids them welcome to his tender breast:
Thus may the people, thus the king be blest.
Then tunes his harp, thy praises to rehearse,
Who owes his son and subjects to thy verse.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 217: These famous expressions of party distinction were
just coming into fashion. Whig, a contraction of Whigamore, is a
word used by the peasantry in the west of Scotland in driving their
horses, and gave a name to those fanatics who were the supporters of
the Covenant in that part of Scotland. It was first used to designate
an insurrection of these people in 1648, called the Whigamore's
road. It has been less accurately derived from the sour-milk used by
these people, called whig. But the former use of the word was much
more likely to afford a party appellation. --The Tories owe their
distinctive epithet to the Irish banditti, who used the word Toree,
or "give me," in robbing passengers. Hence, in the old translation of
Buchanan's History, the followers of Buccleuch are called the Tories
of Teviotdale. As, from religion and other motives, the Irish were
almost all attached to the Duke of York, the word Tory was generally
applied to his party by the opposite faction, who, on the other hand,
were called Whigs, as having embraced the fanatical and rebellious
principles of the Scottish covenanters. The Duke of York's followers
are supposed to be thus described by his Grace himself, in a lampoon
called "Popish Politics unmasked:"

I have my teagues and _tories_ at my beck,
Will wring their heads off like a chicken's neck.

* * * * *

Others wo'nt serve you but on constant pay,
My hounds will hunt and live upon their prey;
A virgin's haunch, or well-baked ladies breast,
To them is better than a ven'son feast;
Babes pettitoes cut large, with arms and legs,
They far prefer to pettitoes of pigs.

One of the first applications of the word Tory to a party purpose,
occurs in "a True Relation of a late Barbarous Assault committed on
Robert Pye, Esq. " in which one John Bodnam, of Brunguin, in the county
of Hereford, "an obstinate and violent papist," is said by the author
to have defended himself against the constable and his assistants "so
well, or rather so ill," that they were forced to retire and leave him
"than which a _Toree_ or an Outlaw could have done no more. " Finally,
the justice having appeared in person, Mr Bodnam, "in good earnest let
fly at his head with a hedge-bill," which, the author says, is "no bad
argument for the truth of the black bills prepared for the papists in
Ireland. " This paper is dated 1681. ]

[Footnote 218: Birmingham was already noted for base and counterfeit
coinage. In a Panegyrick on their Royal Highnesses congratulating their
return from Scotland, 1682, mention is thus made of Shaftesbury's medal:

The wretch that stamped it got immortal fame;
'Twas coined by stealth, like groats at Birmingham.

Tom Brown also alluded to the same practice; "I coined heroes as fast
as Brumingham groats. "[219] The affected zeal of the country party for
the Protestant religion, led them to be called Birmingham Protestants,
while the pretensions of Monmouth to legitimacy led his adversaries
to compare him to a spurious impression of the king's coin; and thus
_Birmingham_ became a term of reproach for him, his assumed title, and
his faction in general. There are numerous allusions to this in the
libels of the age. Thus, in "Old Jemmy, an excellent new Ballad,"

Old Jemmy is the top,
And cheef among the princes;
No mobile gay fop
With Bromingham pretences.

In another ballad bearing the same title, the same phrase occurs:

Let Whig and Bremingham repine,
They shew their teeth in vain;
The glory of the British line,
Old Jemmy's come again.

These are in Mr Luttrell's collection; where there is another Tory
song, entitled, "A proper new Birmingham ballad, to the tune of Hey
Boys Up Go We. "

In another Grubstreet performance, entitled, "a Medley on the plot, by
Mathew Taubman:"

Confound the hypocrites, Birminghams royal,
Who thinks allegeance a transgression;
Since to oppose the king is counted loyal,
And to rail high at the succession.

* * * * *

Let them boast of loyal Birminghams, and true,
And with these make up their kirk of separation;
We have honest Tory Tom, Dick, and Hugh,
Will drink on, and do more service for the nation.

North, however, gives rather a different derivation. He says, that
the loyalists, becoming anxious to retort some nickname in return
for that of tories with which they had been branded, first called
their "adversaries _true blues_; because such were not satisfied to
be Protestants as the churchmen were, but must be true Protestants,
implying the others to be false ones, just not Papists. Then they went
on, and stiled the adversary _Birmingham_ Protestants, alluding to the
false groats struck at that place. This held a considerable time; but
the word was not fluent enough for hasty repartee, and after divers
changes, the lot fell on the word whig, which was very significative,
as well as ready, being vernacular in Scotland, whence it was borrowed,
for sour and corrupted whey. Immediately the train took, and, upon
the first touch of the experiment, it ran like wild fire, and became
general. " _Examen. p. 321_.

By the phrase of Anti-Brominghams, used in the text, Dryden therefore
means those who opposed the duke of Monmouth's pretensions, and were
execrated for doing so by his fanatical followers. ]

[Footnote 219: _Reasons for Mr Bayes' changing his Religion_, p. 14. ]

[Footnote 220: A character in sir John Denham's Sophy. ]




ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.


In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin,
Before polygamy was made a sin;
When man on many multiplied his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confined;
When nature prompted, and no law denied,
Promiscuous use of concubine and bride;
Then Israel's monarch[221] after heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did variously impart
To wives and slaves; and, wide as his command,
Scattered his Maker's image through the land.
Michal, of royal blood, the crown did wear,[222]
A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care.
Not so the rest; for several mothers bore
To god-like David several sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No true succession could their seed attend.
Of all the[223] numerous progeny was none
So beautiful, so brave, as Absalon;[224]
Whether inspired by[225] by some diviner lust,
His father got him with a greater gust;
Or that his conscious destiny made way,
By manly beauty, to imperial sway.
Early in foreign fields he won renown,
With kings and states, allied to Israel's crown;
In peace the thoughts of war he could remove,
And seemed as he were only born for love.
Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone twas natural to please;
His motions all accompanied with grace,
And paradise was opened in his face.
With secret joy indulgent David viewed
His youthful image in his son renewed;
To all his wishes nothing he denied,
And made the charming Annabel his bride. [226]
What faults he had,--for who from faults is free?
His father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the law forbore,
Were construed youth that purged by boiling o'er;
And Amnon's murder, by a specious name,
Was called a just revenge for injured fame. [227]
Thus praised and loved, the noble youth remained,
While David undisturbed in Sion reigned.
But life can never be sincerely blest;
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a headstrong, moody, murmuring race,
As ever tried the extent and stretch of grace;
God's pampered people, whom, debauched with ease,
No king could govern, nor no God could please;
Gods they had tried of every shape and size,
That godsmiths could produce, or priests devise;
These Adam-wits, too fortunately free,
Began to dream they wanted liberty;
And when no rule, no precedent was found,
Of men, by laws less circumscribed and bound;
They led their wild desires to woods and caves,
And thought that all but savages were slaves.
They who, when Saul[228] was dead, without a blow,
Made foolish Ishbosheth[229] the crown forego;
Who banished David[230] did from Hebron[231] bring,
And with a general shout proclaimed him king;
Those very Jews, who at their very best,
Their humour more than loyalty exprest,
Now wondered why so long they had obeyed
An idol monarch, which their hands had made;
Thought they might ruin him they could create,
Or melt him to that golden calf,--a state.
But these were random bolts; no formed design,
Nor interest made the factious crowd to join:
The sober part of Israel, free from stain,
Well knew the value of a peaceful reign;
And, looking backward with a wise affright,
Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight;
In contemplation of whose ugly scars,
They curst the memory of civil wars.
The moderate sort of men, thus qualified,
Inclined the balance to the better side;
And David's mildness managed it so well,
The bad found no occasion to rebel.
But when to sin our biassed nature leans,
The careful devil is still at hand with means,
And providently pimps for ill desires;
The good old cause, revived, a plot requires.
Plots, true or false, are necessary things,
To raise up commonwealths, and ruin kings.
The inhabitants of old Jerusalem[232]
Were Jebusites[233]; the town so called from them;
And theirs the native right. ----
But when the chosen people grew more strong,
The rightful cause at length became the wrong;
And every loss the men of Jebus bore,
They still were thought God's enemies the more.
Thus worn or[234] weakened, well or ill content,
Submit they must to David's government;
Impoverished and deprived of all command,
Their taxes doubled as they lost their land;
And, what was harder yet to flesh and blood,
Their gods disgraced, and burnt like common wood.
This set the heathen priesthood in a flame;
For priests of all religions are the same.
Of whatsoe'er descent their godhead be,
Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree,
In his defence his servants are as bold,
As if he had been born of beaten gold.
The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies,
In this conclude them honest men and wise;
For 'twas their duty, all the learned think,
To espouse his cause, by whom they eat and drink.
From hence began that plot, the nation's curse,
Bad in itself, but represented worse;[235]
Raised in extremes, and in extremes decried;
With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied;
Not weighed nor winnowed by the multitude,
But swallowed in the mass, unchewed and crude.
Some truth there was, but dashed and brewed with lies,
To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
Succeeding times did equal folly call,
Believing nothing, or believing all.
The Egyptian rites the Jebusites embraced,
Where gods were recommended by their taste.
Such savoury deities must needs be good,
As served at once for worship and for food. [236]
By force they could not introduce these gods,--
For ten to one in former days was odds,--
So fraud was used, the sacrificer's trade;
Fools are more hard to conquer than persuade.
Their busy teachers mingled with the Jews,
And raked for converts even the court and stews;
Which Hebrew priests the more unkindly took,
Because the fleece accompanies the flock.
Some thought they God's anointed meant to slay
By guns, invented since full many a day:
Our author swears it not; but who can know
How far the devil and Jebusites may go? [237]
This plot, which failed for want of common sense,
Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence;
For as, when raging fevers boil the blood,
The standing lake soon floats into a flood,
And every hostile humour, which before
Slept quiet in its channels, bubbles o'er;
So several factions, from this first ferment,
Work up to foam, and threat the government.
Some by their friends, more by themselves thought wise,
Opposed the power to which they could not rise;
Some had in courts been great, and, thrown from thence,
Like fiends, were hardened in impenitence;
Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown
From pardoned rebels kinsmen to the throne,
Were raised in power and public office high;
Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie.
Of these the false Achitophel[238] was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs, and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfixed in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace;
A fiery soul, which, working out its way, }
Fretted the pigmy-body to decay, }
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay; }
A daring pilot in extremity;
Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high
He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide;
Else, why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeathered two-legged thing, a son;[239]
Got, while his soul did huddled notions try;
And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy.
In friendship false, implacable in hate;
Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state.
To compass this the triple bond he broke; }
The pillars of the public safety shook; }
And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;[240] }
Then, seized with fear, yet still affecting fame,
Usurped a patriot's all-atoning name. [241]
So easy still it proves in factious times,
With public zeal to cancel private crimes.
How safe is treason, and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the people's will?
Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known,
Since in another's guilt they find their own?
Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge;
The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge.
In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin[242]
With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean,
Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress;
Swift of dispatch, and easy of access.
Oh! had he been content to serve the crown,
With virtue only proper to the gown;
Or had the rankness of the soil been freed
From cockle, that oppressed the noble seed;
David for him his tuneful harp had strung,
And heaven had wanted one immortal song.
But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land.
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful fame, and lazy happiness,
Disdained the golden fruit to gather free,
And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree.
Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since,
He stood at bold defiance with his prince;
Held up the buckler of the people's cause
Against the crown, and skulked behind the laws. [243]
The wished occasion of the plot he takes;
Some circumstances finds, but more he makes;
By buzzing emissaries, fills the ears
Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears,
Of arbitrary counsels brought to light,
And proves the king himself a Jebusite.
Weak arguments! which yet, he knew full well,
Were strong with people easy to rebel.
For, governed by the moon, the giddy Jews
Tread the same track when she the prime renews;
And once in twenty years their scribes record,
By natural instinct they change their lord.
Achitophel still wants a chief, and none
Was found so fit as warlike Absalon.
Not that he wished his greatness to create,
For politicians neither love nor hate;
But, for he knew his title not allowed,
Would keep him still depending on the crowd;
That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be
Drawn to the dregs of a democracy.
Him he attempts with studied arts to please,
And sheds his venom in such words as these.
Auspicious prince, at whose nativity
Some royal planet ruled the southern sky;
Thy longing country's darling and desire;
Their cloudy pillar and their guardian fire;
Their second Moses, whose extended wand
Divides[244] the seas, and shews the promised land;
Whose dawning day, in every distant age,
Has exercised the sacred prophet's rage;
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme,
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream!
Thee, Saviour, thee the nation's vows confess,
And, never satisfied with seeing, bless;
Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim,
And stammering babes are taught to lisp 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 feed on praise;
'Till thy fresh glories, which now shine so bright,
Grow stale, and tarnish with our daily sight?
Believe me, royal youth, thy fruit must be
Or gathered ripe, or rot upon the tree.
Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late,
Some lucky revolution of their fate;
Whose motions if we watch and guide with skill,
(For human good depends on human will,)
Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent,
And from the first impression takes the bent;
But, if unseized, she glides away like wind,
And leaves repenting folly far behind.
Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize,
And spreads her locks before you as she flies.
Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring,
Not dared, when fortune called him, to be king,
At Gath[245] an exile he might still remain,
And heaven's anointing oil had been in vain.
Let his successful youth your hopes engage;
But shun the example of declining age:
Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.
He is not now, as when, on Jordan's[246] sand, }
The joyful people thronged to see him land, }
Covering the beach and blackening all the strand; }
But, like the prince of angels, from his height
Comes tumbling downward with diminished light;
Betrayed by one poor plot to public scorn,
Our only blessing since his curst return;
Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind,
Blown off and scattered by a puff of wind.
What strength can he to your designs oppose,
Naked of friends, and round beset with foes?
If Pharaoh's[247] doubtful succour he should use,
A foreign aid would more incense the Jews;
Proud Egypt[248] would dissembled friendship bring;
Foment the war, but not support the king:
Nor would the royal party e'er unite
With Pharaoh's arms, to assist the Jebusite;
Or, if they should, their interest soon would break,
And with such odious aid make David weak.
All sorts of men, by my successful arts
Abhorring kings, estrange their altered hearts
From David's rule; and 'tis their general cry,
Religion, commonwealth, and liberty.
If you, as champion of the public good,
Add to their arms a chief of royal blood,
What may not Israel hope, and what applause
Might such a general gain by such a cause?
Not barren praise alone, that gaudy flower
Fair only to the sight, but solid power;
And nobler is a limited command,
Given by the love of all your native land,
Than a successive title, long and dark,
Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark. [249]
What cannot praise effect in mighty minds,
When flattery sooths, and when ambition blinds?
Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed,
Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed;
In God 'tis glory; and when men aspire,
'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
The ambitious youth, too covetous of fame,
Too full of angel's metal in his frame,
Unwarily was led from virtue's ways,
Made drunk with honour, and debauched with praise.
Half loath, and half consenting to the ill,--
For royal blood within him struggled still,--
He thus replied. --And what pretence have I
To take up arms for public liberty?
My father governs with unquestioned right,
The faith's defender, and mankind's delight;
Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws;
And heaven by wonders has espoused his cause.
Whom has he wronged in all his peaceful reign?
Who sues for justice to his throne in vain?
What millions has he pardoned of his foes,
Whom just revenge did to his wrath expose?
Mild, easy, humble, studious of our good,
Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood.
If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit,
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 yoke a servile train.
If David's rule Jerusalem displease,
The dog-star heats their brains to this disease.
Why then should I, encouraging the bad,
Turn rebel, and run popularly mad?
Were he a tyrant, who by lawless might
Oppressed the Jews, and raised the Jebusite,
Well might I mourn; but nature's holy bands
Would curb my spirits, and restrain my hands:
The people might assert 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 desire.
What more can I expect while David lives?
All but his kingly diadem he gives;
And that--But there he paused; then sighing, said--
Is justly destined for a worthier head;
For, when my father from his toils shall rest,
And late augment the number of the blest,
His lawful issue shall the throne ascend,
Or the collateral line, where that shall end.
His brother, though oppressed with vulgar spite,[250]
Yet dauntless, and secure of native right,
Of every royal virtue stands possest;
Still dear to all the bravest and the best.
His courage foes, his friends his truth proclaim;
His loyalty the king, the world his fame.
His mercy even the offending crowd will find;
For sure he comes of a forgiving kind.
Why should I then repine at heaven's decree,
Which gives me no pretence to royalty?
Yet oh that fate, propitiously inclined,
Had raised my birth, or had debased my mind;
To my large soul not all her treasure lent,
And then betrayed it to a mean descent!
I find, I find my mounting spirits bold,
And David's part disdains my mother's mould.
Why am I scanted by a niggard birth?
My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth;
And, made for empire, whispers me within,
Desire of greatness is a god-like sin.
Him staggering so, when hell's dire agent found,
While fainting virtue scarce maintained her ground,
He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies:
The eternal God, supremely good and wise,
Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain.
What wonders are reserved to bless 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 suppose a monarch tame,
And more his goodness than his wit proclaim:
But when should people strive their bonds to break,
If not when kings are negligent, or weak?
Let him give on till he can give no more,
The thrifty sanhedrim shall keep him poor;
And every shekel, which he can receive,
Shall cost a limb of his prerogative.
To ply him with new plots shall be my care,
Or plunge him deep in some expensive war;
Which when his treasure can no more supply,
He must, with the remains of kingship, buy.
His faithful friends, our jealousies and fears
Call Jebusites, and Pharaoh's pensioners;
Whom when our fury from his aid has torn,
He shall be naked left to public scorn.
The next successor, whom I fear and hate,
My arts have made obnoxious to the state;
Turned all his virtues to his overthrow,
And gained our elders to pronounce a foe. [251]
His right, for sums of necessary gold,
Shall first be pawned, and afterwards be sold;
'Till time shall ever-wanting David draw,
To pass your doubtful title into law:
If not, the people have a right supreme
To make their kings; for kings are made for them.
All empire is no more than power in trust,
Which, when resumed, can be no longer just.
Succession, for the general good designed,
In its own wrong a nation cannot bind;
If altering that the people can relieve,
Better one suffer than a nation grieve.
The Jews well know their power; ere Saul[252] they chose,
God was their king, and God they durst depose.
Urge now your piety, your filial name,
A father's right, and fear of future fame;--
The public good, that universal call,
To which even heaven submitted, answers all.
Nor let his love enchant your generous mind;
'Tis nature's trick to propagate her kind.
Our fond begetters, who would never die,
Love but themselves in their posterity.
Or let his kindness by the effects be tried,
Or let him lay his vain pretence aside.
God said, he loved your father; could he bring
A better proof, than to anoint him king?
It surely shewed he loved the shepherd well,
Who gave so fair a flock as Israel.
Would David have you thought his darling son?
What means he then to alienate the crown?
The name of godly he may blush to bear;
Is't[253] after God's own heart to cheat his heir?
He to his brother gives supreme command,
To you a legacy of barren land;
Perhaps the old harp, on which he thrums his lays,
Or some dull Hebrew ballad in your praise.
Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise,
Already looks on you with jealous eyes;[254]
Sees through the thin disguises of your arts,
And marks your progress in the people's hearts;
Though now his mighty soul its grief contains,
He meditates revenge who least complains;
And like a lion, slumbering in the way,
Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey,
His fearless foes within his distance draws,
Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws;
'Till, at the last, his time for fury found,
He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground;
The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares,
But with a lordly rage his hunters tears.
Your case no tame expedients will afford;
Resolve on death, or conquest by the sword,
Which for no less a stake than life you draw;
And self defence is nature's eldest law.
Leave the warm people no considering time;
For then rebellion may be thought a crime.
Avail[255] yourself of what occasion gives,
But try your title while your father lives;
And that your arms may have a fair pretence,
Proclaim you take them in the kings defence;
Whose sacred life each minute would expose
To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes.
And who can sound the depth of David's soul? [256]
Perhaps his fear his kindness may controul.
He fears his brother, though he loves his son,
For plighted vows too late to be undone.
If so, by force he wishes to be gained;
Like women's lechery to seem constrained.
Doubt not; but, when he most affects the frown,
Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown.
Secure his person to secure your cause;
They, who possess the prince, possess the laws.
He said, and this advice, above the rest,
With Absalom's mild nature suited best;
Unblamed of life, ambition set aside,
Not stained with cruelty, not puft with pride.
How happy had he been, if destiny
Had higher placed his birth, or not so high!
His kingly virtues might have claimed a throne,
And blest all other countries but his own;
But charming greatness since so few refuse,
'Tis juster to lament him than accuse.
Strong were his hopes a rival to remove,
With blandishments to gain the public love;
To head the faction while their zeal was hot,
And popularly prosecute the plot.
To further this, Achitophel unites
The malcontents of all the Israelites;
Whose differing parties he could wisely join,
For several ends, to serve the same design.
The best,--and of the princes some were such,
Who thought the power of monarchy too much;
Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts;
Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts.
By these the springs of property were bent,
And wound so high, they cracked the government.
The next for interest sought to embroil the state,
To sell their duty at a dearer rate,
And make their Jewish markets of the throne;
Pretending public good, to serve their own.
Others thought kings an useless heavy load,
Who cost too much, and did too little good.
These were for laying honest David by,
On principles of pure good husbandry. [257]
With them joined all the haranguers of the throng;
That thought to get preferment by the tongue.
Who follow next a double danger bring,
Not only hating David, but the king;
The Solymæan rout; well versed, of old,
In godly faction, and in treason bold;
Cowring and quaking at a conqueror's sword,
But lofty to a lawful prince restored;
Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun,
And scorned by Jebusites to be outdone.
Hot Levites[258] headed these; who, pulled before
From the ark, which in the judges' days they bore,[259]
Resumed their cant, and, with a zealous cry,
Pursued their old beloved theocracy;
Where sanhedrim and priest enslaved the nation,
And justified their spoils by inspiration.
For who so fit to reign as Aaron's race,
If once dominion they could found in grace?
These led the pack; though not of surest scent,
Yet deepest mouthed against the government.
A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed,
Of the true old enthusiastic breed;
'Gainst form and order they their power employ,
Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.
But far more numerous was the herd of such,
Who think too little, and who talk too much.
These out of mere instinct, they knew not why,
Adored their fathers' God, and property;
And, by the same blind benefit of fate,
The devil and the Jebusite did hate;
Born to be saved, even in their own despite.
Because they could not help believing right.
Such were the tools; but a whole Hydra more
Remains of sprouting heads too long to score.
Some of their chiefs were princes of the land:
In the first rank of these did Zimri[260] stand;
A man so various, that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was every thing by starts, and nothing long;
But, in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fidler, statesman, and buffoon;
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest madman, who could every hour employ,
With something new to wish, or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual themes;
And both, to shew his judgment, in extremes;
So over violent, or over civil,
That every man with him was God or devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late;
He had his jest, and they had his estate.
He laughed himself from court; then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief;
For, spite of him, the weight of business fell
On Absalom, and wise Achitophel;
Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He left not faction, but of that was left.
Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse
Of lords, below the dignity of verse.
Wits, warriors, commonwealths-men, were the best;
Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest.
And therefore, in the name of dulness, be
The well-hung Balaam and cold Caleb free;
And canting Nadab let oblivion damn,[261]
Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb.
Let friendship's holy band some names assure;
Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure.
Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place,
Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace:
Not bull-faced Jonas,[262] who could statutes draw
To mean rebellion, and make treason law.
But he, though bad, is followed by a worse,
The wretch, who heaven's anointed dared to curse;
Shimei,[263]--whose youth did early promise bring
Of zeal to God, and hatred to his king,--
Did wisely from expensive sins refrain,
And never broke the sabbath but for gain:
Nor ever was he known an oath to vent,
Or curse, unless against a government.
Thus heaping wealth, by the most ready way
Among the jews, which was--to cheat and pray;
The city, to reward his pious hate
Against his master, chose him magistrate.
His hand a vase of justice did uphold;
His neck was loaded with a chain of gold.
During his office treason was no crime;
The sons of Belial had a glorious time:
For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf,
Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself.
When two or three were gathered to declaim }
Against the monarch of Jerusalem, }
Shimei was always in the midst of them: }
And, if they cursed the king when he was by,
Would rather curse than break good company.
If any durst his factious friends accuse,
He packed a jury of dissenting jews;[264]
Whose fellow-feeling in the Godly cause
Would free the suffering saint from human laws:
For laws are only made to punish those
Who serve the king, and to protect his foes.
If any leisure time he had from power,--
Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour,--
His business was, by writing, to persuade,
That kings were useless, and a clog to trade:[265]
And, that his noble style he might refine,
No Rechabite more shunned the fumes of wine.
Chaste were his cellars, and his shrieval board
The grossness of a city-feast abhorred.
His cooks, with long disuse, their trade forgot;
Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot.
Such frugal virtue malice may accuse;
But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews:
For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require,
As dare not tempt God's providence by fire.
With spiritual food he fed his servants well,
But free from flesh, that made the Jews rebel:
And Moses' laws he held in more account,
For forty days of fasting in the mount.
To speak the rest, (who better are forgot,)
Would tire a well-breathed witness of the plot.
Yet Corah,[266] thou shalt from oblivion pass;
Erect thyself, thou monumental brass,
High as the serpent of thy metal made,
While nations stand secure beneath thy shade!
What though his birth were base, yet comets rise
From earthy vapours, ere they shine in skies.
Prodigious actions may as well be done
By weaver's issue, as by prince's son.
This arch-attestor for the public good
By that one deed ennobles all his blood.
Who ever asked the witnesses high race,
Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace?
Ours was a Levite, and, as times went then,
His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen.
Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud:[267]
Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud:
His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace
A church vermillion, and a Moses' face.
His memory, miraculously great,
Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat;
Which therefore cannot be accounted lies,
For human wit could never such devise.
Some future truths are mingled in his book;
But where the witness failed the prophet spoke:
Some things like visionary flight appear;
The spirit caught him up,--the Lord knows where,
And gave him his rabinical degree,
Unknown to foreign university. [268]
His judgment yet his memory did excel;
Which pieced his wonderous evidence so well,
And suited to the temper of the times,
Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes.
Let Israel's foes suspect his heavenly call,
And rashly judge his writ apocryphal;
Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made:
He takes his life, who takes away his trade.
Were I myself in witness Corah's place,
The wretch, who did me such a dire disgrace,
Should whet my memory, though once forgot,
To make him an appendix of my plot.
His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise,
And load his person with indignities.
But zeal peculiar privilege affords,
Indulging latitude to deeds and words:
And Corah might for Agag's[269] murder call,
In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul.
What others in his evidence did join,
The best that could be had for love or coin,
In Corah's own predicament will fall:
For witness is a common name to all.
Surrounded thus with friends of every sort,
Deluded Absalom forsakes the court;
Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown,
And fired with near possession of a crown.
The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise,
And on his goodly person feed their eyes.
His joys concealed,[270] he sets himself to show;
On each side bowing popularly low:
His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames,
And with familiar ease repeats their names.
Thus formed by nature, furnished out with arts,
He glides unfelt into their secret hearts.
Then with a kind compassionating look,
And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke,
Few words he said; but easy those and fit,
More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet.
I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate;
Though far unable to prevent your fate:
Behold a banished man, for your dear cause
Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws!
Yet oh! that I alone could be undone,
Cut off from empire, and no more a son!
Now all your liberties a spoil are made; }
Egypt and Tyrus[271] intercept your trade, }
And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. }
My father,--whom with reverence yet I name--
Charmed into ease, is careless of his fame;
And, bribed with petty sums of foreign gold,
Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old;[272]
Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys,
And all his power against himself employs.
He gives,--and let him give,--my right away:
But why should he his own and yours betray?
He, only he, can make the nation bleed,
And he alone from my revenge is freed.
Take then my tears,--with that he wiped his eyes,--
'Tis all the aid my present power supplies:
No court-informer can these arms accuse;
These arms may sons against their fathers use:
And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign
May make no other Israelite complain.
Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail;
But common interest always will prevail;
And pity never ceases to be shown
To him who makes the people's wrongs his own.
The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress,
With lifted hands their young Messiah bless:
Who now begins his progress to ordain
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train:[273]
From east to west his glories he displays,
And, like the sun, the promised land surveys.
Fame runs before him as the morning-star,
And shouts of joy salute him from afar;
Each house receives him as a guardian god,
And consecrates the place of his abode.
But hospitable treats did most commend
Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend. [274]
This moving court, that caught the people's eyes,
And seemed but pomp, did other ends disguise:
Achitophel had formed it, with intent
To sound the depths, and fathom, where it went,
The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes,
And try their strength before they came to blows.
Yet all was coloured with a smooth pretence
Of specious love, and duty to their prince.
Religion, and redress of grievances,
(Two names that always cheat, and always please,)
Are often urged; and good king David's life,
Endangered by a brother and a wife. [275]
Thus in a pageant-shew a plot is made;
And peace itself is war in masquerade.
Oh foolish Israel! never warned by ill!
Still the same bait, and circumvented still!
Did ever men forsake their present ease,
In midst of health imagine a disease,
Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee,
Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree?
What shall we think? Can people give away,
Both for themselves and sons, their native sway?
Then they are left defenceless to the sword
Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord:
And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy,
If kings unquestioned can those laws destroy.
Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just,
And kings are only officers in trust,
Then this resuming covenant was declared
When kings were made, or is for ever barred.
If those, who gave the sceptre, could not tie,
By their own deed, their own posterity,
How then could Adam bind his future race?
How could his forfeit on mankind take place?
Or how could heavenly justice damn us all,
Who ne'er consented to our father's fall?
Then kings are slaves to those whom they command,
And tenants to their people's pleasure stand.
Add, that the power, for property allowed,
Is mischievously seated in the crowd;
For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor is the people's judgment always true:
The most may err as grossly as the few;
And faultless kings run down by common cry,
For vice, oppression, and for tyranny.
What standard is there in a fickle rout,
Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out?
Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be
Infected with this public lunacy,
And share the madness of rebellious times,
To murder monarchs for imagined crimes.
If they may give and take whene'er they please,
Not kings alone, the Godhead's images,
But government itself, at length must fall
To nature's state, where all have right to all.