Part 5

To epitomize which scandalous Phamphlet (unworthy the denomination of _Poesy_) no eye can inspect it without a prodigious amazement; the abuses being so gross and deliberate, that it seems rather a Capital or National Libel, than personal exposures, in order to an infamous detraction. For how does he character the King, but as a broad figure of scandalous inclinations, or contriv'd unto such irregularities, as renders him rather the property of Parasites and Vice, than suitable to the accomplishment of so excellent a Prince? Nay, he forces on King _David_ such a Royal resemblance, that he darkens his sanctity in spite of illuminations from Holy Writ.

Next (to take as near our King as he could) he calumniates the Duke of _Monmouth_ with that height of impudence, that his Sense is far blacker than his Ink, exposing him to all the censures that a Murderer, a Traytor, or what a Subject of most ambitious evil can possibly comprehend: and it is some wonder, that his Lines also had not hang'd him on a Tree, to make the intended _Absalom_ more compleat.

As to my Lord _Shaftsbury_ (in his collusive _Achitophel_), what does he other than exceed Malice it self? or that the more prudent deserts of that Peer were to be so impeach'd before hand by his impious Poem, as that he might be granted more emphatically condign of the Hangman's Ax; And which his Muse does in effect take upon her to hasten.

And if the season be well observ'd, when this Adulterate Poem was spread, it will be found purposely divulg'd near the time when this Lord, with his other Noble Partner, were to be brought to their Tryals. And I suppose this Poet thought himself enough assur'd of their condemnation; at least, that his _Genius_ had not otherwise ventur'd to have trampled on persons of such eminent Abilities, and Interest in the Nation. A consideration, I confess, incited my Pen (its preceding respect being paid to the Duke of _Monmouth_) to vindicate their Reputations where I thought it due.

And some are not a little mistaken in their judgments of persons, if any Kingdom has at this time Two men of their Dignity, of more extraordinary Understandings: Which may (if well consider'd) be some inducement to their future preservation and esteem. As I have endeavour'd chiefly to clear their abuse, so I have pass'd divers considerable persons, under as malign inclinations of this Author's; conceiving, that what I have said for the Principals, may remove such smaller prejudices as are on the value of others on the same concern.

His most select and pecuniary Favourites, I have but barely touch'd, in respect his praise includes a concomitant reprehension, if well apprehended. Besides, I was unwilling to discourage any, that for the future may desire to be admir'd by him according to their liberality. A method, that perhaps may in time set up some Merchants of _Parnassus_, where the _Indies_ of Fame seem lately discover'd, and may be purchas'd _per Centum_, according to modern example.

As to the Character of _Amiel_, I confess my Lines are something pointed, the one reason being, that it alludes much to a manner of expression of this Writer's, as may be seen by the marginal Notes; and a second will be soon allowed. The figure of _Amiel_ has been so squeez'd into Paint, that his soul is seen in spite of the Varnish.

And none will deny, but it is as easie to send Truth backward, as it is to spur Falsities egregiously forward, and might have caus'd any Asse, as knowing as _Balaam_'s, to have rebuk'd such a Poet as will needs prophecy against the sense of Heaven and Men. But I have enough of this _Amiell_, as well as of his Muse, unless that by his means it occasions a further account. And for what is mine here, It will at worst contract censure, in respect it is a brief reflection on a very large Libel. And tho' I believe it did not cost (tho' that be not offer'd for an excuse) the tenth part of the time of the other. As to my Preface, I was willing that he should find, that this smaller work has some Nose.--Tho' I am no more bound to have my Face known by it, than he is willing to obscure his by a Nameless Preamble.

[Asterisks used as side/footnote references are from the original text.]

Poetical Reflections ON A POEM,

CALLED Absolon and Achitophel.

When late Protectorship was Canon-Proof, And _Cap-a-pe_ had seiz'd on _Whitehall_-Roof, And next, on _Israelites_ durst look so big, That _Tory-like_, it lov'd not much the _Whigg_: A Poet there starts up, of wondrous Fame; Whether _Scribe_ or _Pharisee_, his Race doth name, Or more t'intrigue the Metaphor of Man, Got on a Muse by _Father-Publican_: [Sidenote: A Committee-Man.] For 'tis not harder much, if we tax Nature, That Lines should give a Poet such a Feature; Than that his Verse a _Hero_ should us show, [Sidenote: _Sir Denzill Hollis_ seeks _annum mirabilis_.] Produc'd by such a Feat, as famous too. His Mingle such, what Man presumes to think, But he can Figures daub with Pen and Ink. A Grace our mighty _Nimrod_ late beheld, When he within the Royal Palace dwell'd, And saw 'twas of import if Lines could bring His Greatness from _Usurper_, to be King: [Sidenote: See his Poem on _Cromwel_.] Or varnish so his Praise, that little odds Should seem 'twixt him, and such called Earthly Gods. And tho no Wit can Royal Blood infuse, No more than melt a Mother to a Muse: Yet much a certain Poet undertook, That Men and Manners deals in without-Book. And might not more to Gospel-Truth belong, Than he (if Christened) does by name of _John._ This Poet, who that time much squanderd thought, Of which some might bring Coyn, whilst some none brought, As Men that hold their Brains of powerful sense, Will least on Poet's Tales bestow their pence, Tho he such Dispensations to endear, Had notch'd his Sconce just level with his Ear. An Emblem in these days of much import, When Crop-ear'd Wits had such a Modish Court. Tho some from after-deeds much fear the Fate, That such a Muse may for its Lugs create. As Stars may without Pillories dispence, To slit some Ears for Forgeries of sense, Which Princes, Nobles, and the Fame of Men, Sought to bespatter by a worthless Pen. But leaving this to Circumstances fit, With what thence spreads this Renegado-wit. We'll tell you how his Court he now doth make, } And what choice Things and Persons he doth take, } That Lines for Guinnys might more liquorish speak. } To heigten which we'll to his Muse advance, Which late discover'd its _Judaick_ Trance: Where _Absalon_'s in _English_ Colours di'd, That in a Duke, a Traitor might be spi'd. Or Heaven on him did Graces so bestow, As only could confer their Pageant Show; Giving his Glories no more fast Renown, Than with more Honour to be taken down: Like Victimes by some Sacrificers drest, Must fall adorn'd, which then they pity least. But fear not _Monmouth_, if a Libel's quill, Would dregs of Venom on thy Vertue spill; Since no desert so smoothly is convey'd, As next it's Fame, no canker'd Patch is laid; Thou didst no Honour seek, but what's thy due, And such Heaven bids thee not relinquish too. Whilst it's Impressions so oblig'd thy Task, As leave from Earth thy Soul declin'd to ask. If this thy Error were, what Influ'nce can Excuse the Duty of more wilfull Man; With such whose Figures shew that squinting Paint, Whence peeps a Mungril _Babylonish Saint_. Thy Soul's Religion's Prop, and Native Grace, _Rome_, (fears its onsets) looking on the place; What Altitude can more exalt thy Praise, Tho best Devotion should thy Trophies raise, And 'tis perhaps from thy Diviner Bliss, That some may fear their Souls are seen amiss. As what so high does Emulation mount, As Greatness when surpass'd on Heaven's Account; And if th' Ambition would in this excel, 'Twas but to be more great in doing well; And must rebate the worst that Fates intend, Whilst Heaven and _England_ is at once thy Friend. This just _Encomium_, tho too brief it be To represent thy least Epitome; And but unto thy larger Figure joyn'd, As small proportions are from great design'd; Tho where a line one worth of thine can speak, It does alone, a Poem's Greatness make; Leaving this _Hero_ to his spotless Fame, (As who besides this Wretch will it blaspheme) Or in a Libels Allegorick Way, Men falsely figur'd, to the world convey, Libels the enormous Forgery of sense, Stamp'd on the brow of human Impudence; The blackest wound of Merit, and the Dart, That secret Envy points against Desert. The lust of Hatred pander'd to the Eye T'allure the World's debauching by a Lie. Th'rancrous Favourite's masquerading Guilt, Imbitt'ring venom where he'd have it spilt. The Courts depression in a fulsom Praise; A Test it's _Ignoramus_ worst conveys, A lump of Falshood's Malice does disperse, Or Toad when crawling on the Feet of Verse. Fame's impious Hireling and mean Reward, The Knave that in his Lines turns up his Card, Who, tho no Rabby, thought in Hebrew wit, He forc'd Allusions can closly fit. To _Jews_ or _English_, much unknown before, He made a _Talmud_ on his Muses score; Though hop'd few Criticks will its _Genius_ carp, So purely Metaphors King _David_'s Harp, And by a soft Encomium, near at hand, Shews _Bathsheba_ Embrac'd throughout the Land. But this Judaick Paraphrastick Sport We'll leave unto the ridling Smile of Court. Good Heav'n! What timeful Pains can Rhymers take, When they'd for Crowds of Men much Pen-plot make? Which long-Beak'd Tales and filch'd Allusions brings, As much like Truth, as 'tis the Woodcock sings. What else could move this Poet to purloin So many _Jews_, to please the _English_ Swine? Or was it that his Brains might next dispense To adapt himself a Royal Evidence? Or that he'd find for _Dugdale_'s Wash some Spell, In stead of once more dipp'd in _Winifred_'s Well; And ope his Budget, like _Pandora_'s Box, Whence Overt-acts more _Protestants_ should Pox, Which might the Joyner's Ghost provoke to rise, And fright such Tales with other _Popish_ Lies? But _Starr's_ or _Ignoramus_'s may not give Those Swearers longer swinge by Oaths to live. A Providence much _English_ Good protects, And sends Testees to Trade for new Effects; Which none of the Long-Robe, 'tis hop'd, can aid, So well by Oaths the Devil's already paid; And most suppose, if e're both Plots can die, Or eat up one anothers Perjury, 'Twou'd _Pluto_ strangely pose to find a Third, Sould he in his a _Popish_ Legion Lard. A Policy some Poems much embrace, As is discern'd in _Shaftsbury_'s Great Case; Where Verse so vile an Obloquy betray, As for a Statist-_Jew_ they'd him convey. Tho hard it is to understand what Spell Can conjure up in him _Achitophel_, Or tax this Peer with an Abused Sense Of his so deep and apt Intelligence: A Promptitude by which the Nation's shown To be in Thought concurrent with his own. _Shaftsbury_! A Soul that Nature did impart To raise her Wonder in a Brain and Heart; Or that in him produc'd, the World might know, She others did with drooping Thought bestow. As in Mans most perspicuous Soul, we find The nearest Draught of her Internal Mind, Tho it appears her highest Act of State, When Human Conducts she does most compleat, And place them so, for Mankinds good, that they Are fit to Guide, where others miss their Way; It being in Worldly Politiques less Great To be a Law-maker, than Preserve a State. In Publick Dangers Laws are unsecure, As strongest Anchors can't all Winds endure; Though 'tis in Exigents the wisest Ease To know who best can ply when Storms encrease; Whilst other Prospects, by mistaking Fate, Through wrong Preventions, more its Bad dilate. Whence some their Counter-Politicks extend, To ruine such can Evils best amend. A Thwarting _Genius_, which our Nation more Than all its head-strong Evils does deplore; And shews what violent Movements such inform, That where a Calm should be, they force a Storm; As if their Safety chiefly they must prize In being rid of Men esteem'd more Wise. To this Great, Little Man, we'll T'other joyn, Held Sufferers by one Tripartite Design. As from a Cubick Power, or Three-fold Might, Roots much expand, as Authors prove aright; But of such Managements we'll little say, Or shamm'd Intrigues, for Fame left to convey; Which may by peeping through a Gown-mans Sleeve, Tell such grave Tales, Men cannot well believe: With what for Plots and Trials has been done, As Whores depos'd, before away they run; All which was well discern'd by numerous Sense, Before the Doctors py'd Intelligence, Who, with some Motley Lawyers, took much care To gain the _Caput_ of this Knowing Peer; When after so much Noise, and nothing prov'd, Heaven thank'd, to Freedom he's at last remov'd, Leaving a Low-Bridge _Cerberus_ to try In what Clerks Pate his monstrous Fee does lie; Or by the help of _Tory-Roger_ tell How Sacred Gain-Prerogativ'd should spell. But these are Thoughts may fit some Pensive Skulls, Or Men concern'd to bait their several Bulls; Whilst on this Peer we must some Lines bestow, Tho more he merits than best Verse can show: Great in his Name, but greater in his Parts, Judgment sublim'd, with all its strong Deserts; A Sense above Occasions quick surprize, That he no Study needs to make him Wise, Or labour'd Thoughts, that trains of Sinews knit, His Judgment always twin'd unto his Wit; That from his clear Discussions Men may know He does to wonder other Brains out-do. Whilst they for Notions search they can't compact, His _Genius_ fitly stands prepar'd to act. Admir'd of Man, that in thy Sense alone So ready dost exalt high Reason's Throne; That Men abate Resentments to expect Thou mayst rise Greater, having past Neglect. A Sacred Method Kings receive from Heaven, That still does Cherish, when it has Forgiven; Which from our Princes Soul so largely flows, That Mercy's Channel with his Greatness goes. No Arbitrary Whispers him can guide To swell his Rule beyond its genuine Tide: Whilst other Kings their rugged Scepters see Eclips'd in his more soft Felicity; Whose Goodness can all Stress of State remove, So fitly own'd the Subjects Fear and Love. My Verse might here discharge its hasty Flight, } As Pencils that attempt Immortal Heighth } Droop in the Colours should convey its Light, } Did not this Poet's Lines upon me call For some Reflexions on a Lower Fall; Where he by Rhyming, a _Judaick_ Sham, Obtrudes for _Israelites_ some Seeds of _Cham_. And this Inspexion needs no further go Than where his Pen does most Indulgent show: And 'tis no wonder if his _Types_ of Sense Should stroke such _Figures_ as give down their Pence; A Crime for which some Poets Lines so stretch, As on themselves they Metaphor _Jack Ketch_. Tho small the Varnish is to Humane Name, Where Cogging Measures rob the truth of Fame. And more to do his skew'd _Encomiums_ right, Some Persons speak by him their motly Sight: Or much like _Hudibras_, on Wits pretence, Some Lines for Rhyme, and some to gingle Sense. Who else would _Adriel_, _Jotham_, _Hushai_, fit, With loathed _Amiell_, for a Court of Wit? For, as Men Squares of Circles hardly find, Some think these Measures are as odly joyn'd. What else could _Adriell_'s sharpness more abuse, Than headlong dubb'd, to own himself a Muse, Unless to spread Poetick Honours so As should a Muse give each St. _George_'s Show? A Mode of Glory might _Parnassus_ fit, Tho our Sage Prince knows few he'd Knight for Wit. And thus this Freak is left upon the File, Or as 'tis written in this Poet's Stile. Next, as in Course, to _Jotham_ we'll descend, Thoughtful it seems which Side he'll next befriend, As thinking Brains can caper to and fro, Before they jump into the Box they'd go. And 'tis a moody Age, as many guess, When some with busie Fears still forward press; As 'tis Ambitions oft-deluding Cheat To tempt Mens aims, secureless of defeat. _Hushai_ the Compass of th'_Exchequer_ guides, Propense enough unto the North besides: As what can steady Stations more allure, Than such, a Princely Bed does first secure? Whose Part none are so ignorant to ask, And does no less employ his Ends and Task. But quitting these, we must for Prospect pass To gaping _Amiell_, as reflects our Glass. The _Him_ indeed of his own *Western Dome, [Sidenote: _See his_, p. 27.] So near his praiseful Poet Sense may come: For *_Amiell_, _Amiell_, who cannot endite [Sidenote: _See his_, p. 28.] Of his _Thin_ Value won't disdain to write? The very _Him_ with Gown and Mace did rule The _Sanedrim_, when guided by a Fool. The _Him_ that did both Sense and Reason shift, That he to gainful Place himself might lift. The very _Him_ that did adjust the Seed Of such as did their Votes for Money breed. The Mighty _Him_ that frothy Notions vents, In hope to turn them into Presidents. The _Him_ of _Hims_, although in Judgment small, That fain would be the biggest at _Whitehall_. The He that does for Justice Coin postpone, As on Account may be hereafter shown. If this plain _English_ be, 'tis far from Trick, Though some Lines gall, where others fawning lick; Which fits thy Poet, _Amiell_, for thy Smiles, If once more paid to blaze thy hated Toils. Of Things and Persons might be added more, Without Intelligence from Forreign Shore, Or what Designs Ambassadors contrive, Or how the Faithless _French_ their Compass guide: But Lines the busie World too much supply, Besides th'Effects of evil Poetry, Which much to _Tory_-Writers some ascribe, Though hop'd no Furies of the _Whiggish_ Tribe Will on their Backs such Lines or Shapes convey, To burn with Pope, on Great _November_'s Day.

_FINIS._

[Erratum:

And such Heaven bids thee not relinquish too. _text reads "relinqnish"_ ]

* * * * *

AZARIA AND HUSHAI,

A POEM.

_Quod cuique visum est sentiant._

_LONDON,_ Printed for _Charles Lee_, An. Dom. 1682.

TO THE READER.

I shall not go about, either to excuse, or justifie the Publishing of this Poem; for that would be much more an harder Task than the Writing of it: But however, I shall say, in the words of the Author of the incomparable _Absalom_ and _Achitophel_, _That I am sure the Design is honest_. If Wit and Fool be the Consequence of _Whig_ and _Tory_, no doubt, but Knave and Ass may be Epithets plentifully bestowed upon me by the one party, whilst the other may grant me more favourable ones, than perhaps I do deserve. But as very few are Judges of Wit, so I think, much fewer of honesty; since Interest and Faction on either side, prejudices and blinds the Judgment; and the violence of Passion makes neither discernible in an Adversary. I know not whether my Poem has a _Genius_ to force its way against prejudice: Opinion sways much in the World, and he that has once gained it writes securely. I speak not this any ways to lessen the merits of an Author, whose Wit has deservedly gained the Bays; but in this I have the advantage, since, as I desire not Glory or vain applause, I can securely wrap my self in my own Cloud, and remain unknown, whilest he is exposed through his great Lustre. I shall never envy what I desire not, nor am I altogether so doting, as to believe the Issues of my own Brain to exceed all others, and to be so very fond of them, (as most Authors, especially Poets, are) as to think them without fault, or be so blinded as not to see their blemishes, and that they are excelled by others; yet since Poems are like Children, it may be allowed me to be naturally inclined to have some good Opinion of my own, and not to believe this Poem altogether despicable or ridiculous. The Ancients say, that every thing hath two handles, I have laid hold of that opposite to the Author of _Absalom_: As to Truth, who has the better hold, let the World judge; and it is no new thing, for the same Persons, to be ill or well represented, by several parties. I hope then, I may be excused as well as another, since I have told my Dreams with the same Liberty, for the fancies of Poets are no more than waking Dreams, and never imposed as dogmatical precepts, which are more agreeable to truth or falshood, or according to the Poets Language, which proceed from the Horny or Ivory Port, will be sentenced according to the Humour and Interest of several Parties who in spite of our Teeth will be our judges. Where I have been satyrical, 'tis without Malice or Revenge; and though I brag not of my Talent therein, I could have said much worse, of some Enemies to our _Jewish_ Heroe. He that will lash others, ought not to be angry if the like be returned to himself: _Lex talionis_ is a general and natural Law. I call not this an Answer to _Absalom_, I have nothing to do with him, he was a Rebel to his Father; my _Azaria_ a good Son, influenced by a worthy and Loyal Counsellor, and _Achitophel_ and _Hushai_ were men of contrary Opinions, and different Principles: And if Poets (as it is often brought for their excuse, when they vary from known History) ought to represent Persons as they ought to be, I have not transcurred the Precepts of Poetry, and _Absalom_ is not so good a Poem, because his Character is not so agreeable to the virtue of an Heroe, as this of _Azaria_ is: But certainly when Poetry and Truth are joyned together, and that the persons are truly what they are represented, and liv'd their Character, the glory is double, both to the Heroe and the Poet: And I could wish, that the same Hand, that drew the Rebellious Son, with so much Ingenuity and Skill, would out do mine, in shewing the virtues of an obedient Son and loyal Counsellor, since he may have as much Truth for a Foundation to build upon, the Artful Structure of the Heroes Glory, with his own Fame and Immortality.

AZARIA AND HUSHAI,

A POEM.

In Impious Times, when Priest-craft was at height, And all the Deadly Sins esteemed light; When that Religion only was a Stale, And some bow'd down to God, and some to _Baal_; When Perjury was scarce esteem'd a Sin, And Vice, like flowing Tides, came rowling in; When Luxury, Debauch, and Concubine, The sad Effects of Women and of Wine, Rag'd in _Judea_ and _Jerusalem_, Good _Amazia_ of great _David_'s Stem, God-like and great in Peace did rule that Land, And all the _Jews_ stoop'd to his just Command. Long now in _Sion_ had he Peace enjoy'd, After that Civil Broils the Land destroy'd: Plenty and Peace attended on his Reign, And _Solomon_'s Golden days return'd again; When the Old _Canaanites_, who there did lurk, Began to find both God and King new Work: For _Amazia_, tho' he God did love, Had not cast out _Baal_'s Priests, and cut down every Grove. Too oft Religion's made pretence for Sin, About it in all Ages Strife has been; But Int'rest, which at bottom doth remain, Which still converts all Godliness to Gain, What e'er Pretence is made, is the true Cause, That moves the Priest, and like the Load-stone draws. The _Canaanites_ of Old that Land possess'd, And long therein Idolatry profess'd; Till Sins of Priests, and of the Common Rout, Caus'd God and his good Kings to cast them out. Their Idols were pull'd down, their Groves destroy'd, Strict Laws against them, and their Worship made. The Heathen Priests were banish'd from the Land Of _Baal_, no Temple suffer'd was to stand; And all Succeeding Kings made it their Care, They should no more rear up their Altars there. If some mild Kings did wink at their Abode, They to the _Jews_ still prov'd a Pricking-goad: Growing more bold, they penal Laws defy'd, And like tormenting Thorns, stuck in their Side. The busy Priests had lost their gainful Trade, Revenge and Malice do then Hearts invade; And since by Force they can't themselves restore, Nor gain the Sway they in _Judea_ bore, With Hell they Joyn their secret Plots to bring Destruction to _Judea_ and its King.