Chapter 4

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 damn'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 God; Infallible in a new name goes down, Not in the Mitre lodged, but in the Crown. 'Tis true, blest _Deborahs_ Laws they could forget: (But want of Memory commends their Wit.) Where 'twas enacted Treason, not to own Hers and her Sanedrins right to place the Crown. But her weak Heads 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 Gratitude 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.

Illustrious Terrour of the World, all hayle: For ever like your Conquering Self prevaile. In spight of Malice in full Luster 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 God 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; Damn'd be the Law that Majesty confines, But doubly damn'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 Lust 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 Ass supply the place. If Kings o're common Mankind have this odds, Are Gods Vicegerents; let 'em act like Gods. 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 Hells 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 damn'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 Petition peep abroad, Though for the Glory both of Church and God, And to preserve even their yet unborn Heirs; There's Blood and Treason in their very Prayers. This unexampled Impudence upheld; The Governments best Friends, the Crowns best 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 pronounc'd a Ravisher.

This hellish 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 Nobler Grace. And for a Mind fit for this shrine of Gold Heaven cast his Soul in the same Beauteous Mould; With all the sweets of Prideless Greatness blest, As Affable as _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, Passing 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' Glass, 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 God-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, God, 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 assign'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_ Gods: 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 Hell; that Mass of Treason damn'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. So have I seen from Bellows brazen Snout, The Breath drawn in, and by th'same Hand squeez'd out. But helping Oaths may innocently fly, When in a Faith where dying Vows can lye. Were Treason and Democracie his Ends, Why was't not prov'd by his Revolting Friends? Why did not th'Oaths of his once-great Colleagues, _Achitophel_ and the rest prove his Intreagues? Why at the Bar appear'd such sordid scum, And all those Nobler Tongues of Honour dumb? Could he his Plots t'his great Allies conceal, He durst to leaky Starving Wretches tell; Such Ignorant Princes, and such knowing Slaves; His _Babel_ building Tools from such poor Knaves. Were he that Monster his new Foes would make Th'unreasoning World beleive, his Soul so black, That they in Conscience did his Side forego, Knowing him guilty they could prove him so. Then 'twas not Conscience made 'em change their side. Or if they knew, yet did his Treasons hide; In not exposing his detested Crime, They're greater Monsters than they dare think Him. Are these the Proselites renown'd so high, Converts to Duty, Honour, Loyalty? Poorly they change, who in their change stand mute: Converts to Truth ought Falsehood to confute. To conquering Truth, they but small glory give, Who turn to God, yet let the Dagon live.

But who can _Amiels_ charming Wit withstand, The great State-pillar of the Muses Land. For lawless and ungovern'd, had the Age The Nine wild Sisters seen run mad with Rage, Debaucht to Savages, till his keen Pen Brought their long banisht Reason back again, Driven by his Satyres into Natures Fence, And lasht the idle Rovers into Sense. Nay, his sly Muse, in Style Prophetick, wrot The whole Intrigue of _Israels_ Ethnick Plot; Form'd strange Battalions, in stupendious-wise, Whole Camps in Masquerade, and Armies in disguise. _Amiel_, whose generous Gallantry, whilst Fame Shall have a Tongue, shall never want a Name. Who, whilst his Pomp his lavish Gold consumes, Moulted his Wings to lend a Throne his Plumes, Whilst an Ungrateful Court he did attend, Too poor to pay, what it had pride to spend.

But, _Amiel_ has, alas, the fate to hear, An angry Poet play his Chronicler; A Poet rais'd above Oblivions Shade, By his Recorded Verse Immortal made. But, Sir, his livelier Figure to engrave, With Branches added to the _Bays_ you gave: No Muse could more Heroick Feats rehearse, Had with an equal all-applauding Verse, Great _Davids_ Scepter, and _Sauls_ Javelin prais'd: A Pyramide to his Saint, _Interest_, rais'd. For which Religiously no Change he mist, } From Common-wealths-man up to Royalist: } Nay, would have been his own loath'd thing call'd _Priest_. } Priest, whom with so much Gall he does describe, 'Cause once unworthy thought of _Levies_ Tribe. Near those bright Tow'rs where Art has Wonders done, } Where _Davids_ sight glads the blest Summers Sun; } And at his feet proud _Jordans_ Waters run; } A Cell there stands by Pious Founders rais'd, Both for its Wealth and Learned _Rabbins_ prais'd: To this did an Ambitious Bard aspire, To be no less than Lord of that blest Quire: Till Wisdom deem'd so Sacred a Command, A Prize too great for his unhallow'd Hand. Besides, lewd Fame had told his plighted Vow, To _Laura's_ cooing Love percht on a dropping Bough _Laura_ in faithful Constancy confin'd To _Ethiops_ Envoy, and to all Mankind. _Laura_ though Rotten, yet of Mold Divine; He had all her Cl--ps, and She had all his Coine. Her Wit so far his Purse and Sense could drain, Till every P--x was sweetn'd to a Strain. And if at last his Nature can reform, A weary grown of Loves tumultuous storm, 'Tis Ages Fault, not His; of pow'r bereft, He left not Whoring, but of that was left.

But wandring Muse bear up thy flagging Wing: To thy more glorious Theme return, and sing Brave _Jothams_ Worth, Impartial, Great, and Just, Of unbrib'd Faith, and of unshaken Trust: Once _Geshurs_ Lord, their Throne so nobly fill'd, As if to th'borrow'd Scepter that he held, Th'inspiring _David_ yet more generous grew, And lent him his Imperial _Genius_ too. Nor has he worn the Royal Image more In _Israels_ Viceroy, than Embassador: Witness his Gallantry that resolute hour, When to uphold the Sacred Pride of Pow'r, His stubborn Flags from the _Sydonian_ shore, The angry storms of Thundring Castles bore. But these are Virtues Fame must less admire, Because deriv'd from that Heroick Sire, Who on a Block a dauntless Martyr dy'd, With all the Sweetness of a Smiling Bride; Charm'd with the Thought of Honours Starry Pole, With Joy laid down a Head to mount a Soul.

Of all the Champions rich in Honours Scarrs, Whose Loyalty through _Davids_ ancient Wars, (In spight of the triumphant Tyrants pride,) Was to his lowest Ebb of Fortune ty'd; No Link more strong in all that Chain of Gold, Then _Amasai_, the Constant, and the Bold. That Warlike General whose avenging Sword, Through all the Battles of his Royal Lord, Pour'd all the Fires that Loyal Zeal could light, No brighter Star in the lost _Davids_ night.

No less with Laurels _Ashurs_ Brows adorn, That mangled Brave who with _Tyres_ Thunder torn, Brought a dismember'd Load of Honour home, And lives to make both th'Earth and Seas his Tomb.

With Reverence the Religious _Helon_ treat, Refin'd from all the looseness of the Great. _Helon_ who sees his Line of Virtues run } Beyond the Center of his Grave, his own } Unfinisht Luster sparkling in his Son. } A Son so high in Sanedrims renown'd, In _Israels_ Intrest strong, in Sense profound. Under one Roof here Truth a Goddess dwells, } The Pious Father builds her Shrines and Cells, } And in the Son she speaks her Oracles. }

In the same list young _Adriels_ praise record, _Adriel_ the Academick Neighbour Lord; _Adriel_ ennobled by a Grandfather, And Unkle, both those Glorious Sons of War: Both Generals, and both Exiles with their Lord; Till with the Royal Wanderer restored, They lived to see his Coronation Pride; Then surfeiting on too much Transport dy'd. O're _Adriels_ Head these Heroes Spirits shine, His Soul with so much Loyal Blood fenc'd in; Such Native Virtues his great Mind adorn, Whilst under their congenial Influence born.

In this Record let _Camries_ Name appear, The Great _Barzillai_'s Fellow Sufferer; From unknown Hands, of unknown Crimes accus'd, Till th'hunted Shadow lost, his Chains unloos'd.

Now to the Sweet-tongu'd _Amrams_ praise be just, Once the _State-Advocate_, that Wealthy Trust, Till Flattery the price of dear-bought Gold, His Innocence for Pallaces unfold, To Naked Truths more shining Beauties true, Th'Embroiderd Mantle from his Neck he threw.

Next _Hothriel_ write, _Baals_ watchful Foe, and late _Jerusalems_ protecting Magistrate; Who, when false Jurors were to Frenzy Charm'd, And against Innocence even Tribunals arm'd, Saw deprav'd Justice ope her Ravenous Jaw, And timely broke her Canine Teeth of Law.

Amongst th'Asserters of his Countries Cause, Give the bold _Micah_ his deserv'd Applause, The Grateful Sanedrims repeated Choice, Of Two Great Councels the Successive Voice. Of that old hardy Tribe of _Israel_ borne, Fear their Disdain, and Flattery their Scorne, Too proud to truckle, and too Tough to bend.

Of the same Tribe was _Hanan, Ithreams_ Friend, From that fam'd Sire, the Long Robes Glory, sprung, In Sanedrims his Countries Pillar long; Long had he fadom'd all the Depths of State; } Could with that strength, that ponderous Sense debate, } As turn'd the Scale of Nations with the weight: } Till subtley made by Spightful Honour Great, Prefer'd to _Israels_ Chief Tribunal Seat, Made in a higher Orb his Beams dispense, To hush his Formidable Eloquence.

But _Israels_ numerous Worthies are too long And Great a Theam for one continued Song. Yet These by bold flagitious Tongues run down, Made all Conspirers against _Davids_ Crown.

Nay, and there was a Time, had Hell prevail'd, Nor Perjury and Subornation fail'd, When a long List of Names, for Treason doom'd, Had _Israels_ Patriots in one Grave entomb'd: A List, with such fair Loyal Colours laid, Even to no less than Royal Hands convey'd. And the great Mover in this pious Fraud, A Dungeon Slave redeem'd by'a Midnight Bawd: Then made by Art a Swearer of Renown, Nurst and embrac'd by th'Heir of _Judahs_ Crown: Encourag'd too by Pension for Reward, With his forg'd Scrowls for Guiltless Blood prepared. Poor Engine for a greatness so sublime: } But oh, a Cause by which their _Baal_ must climb, } Ennobles both the Actor and the Crime. }

Yet This, and all Things else now quite blown o're, And _Absolom_, his _Israels_ Fear no more: Luster and Pride shall hem his radiant Brow; All Knees shall fall, and prostrate Nations bow. By Heav'ns, he is, he will, he must, he shall Be _Israels_ Heroe, Friend, Saint, Idol, all. What though provok'd with all the crying sins Of Murmuring Slaves, excluding Sanedrins: By profane Crowds in dirt his Prophets spurn'd, And ev'n his Gods in mock Processions burn'd: Himself from _Israel_ into _Hebron_ sent, And doom'd to little less than Banishment. In spight of all his Scrowls to _Babylon_; } And all the promis'd Wonders to be done, } When _Egypts_ Frogs should croak on _Judahs_ Throne. } Though of a Faith that propagates in Blood; Of Passions unforgiving, less withstood Then Seas and Tempests, and as Deaf as they. } Yet all Divine shall be his Godlike Sway, } And his calm Reign but one long _Halcyon_ Day. } And this Great Truth he's damn'd that dares deny; } 'Gainst _Absolom_ even Oracles would lye, } Though Sense and Reason Preach 'tis Blasphemy. } Then let out dull Mistaken Terrour cease, When even our Comets speak all Health and Peace.

_FINIS._

ERRATA.

[Transcriber's Note:

The author's Errata list was printed at the bottom of the page in a single block of small type, heavily smudged and not always legible. In at least one case, the requested change appears to be what the text already says. For these reasons, changes listed have _not_ been made. The text of each complete line is given in brackets.]

The Reader is desired to Correct these following Mistakes.

Page 1. line 12. for _Hold_, read _Held_. [Hold but their Crowns at his Almighty Will.] p. 4. l. 22. r. _Ships_; [_Dan_ from her Ship, and _Asher_ on the Shore.] ibid. l. 26. for _Kindl'd_ r. _Bank'd_; [Kindl'd their embattel'd Fires for _Deborah's_ Wars,] ibid. l. 32. r. _the Mighty_; [The Mighty _Deborah's_, God's, and _Israel's_ Foes.] ibid. l. 37 for _they_ r. _thus_; [Thus sung, they conquer'd _Deborah_; thus fell] p. 7. l. 18. for _poor_, r. _weak_; [Preach to poor Female half-Soul'd Proselytes.] p. 9. l. 3. & 4. for _his_ r. _a_; [What Knees, what Necks to mount him to his Throne; What Gems, what Stars to sparkle in his Crown?] l. 6. for _the_, r. _ye_; [But oh the Pow'rs, by treacherous snakes beguil'd,] ibid. l. 20. r. _Walls; the Billows pour_; [Down crack the Chrystal Walls the Billows pow'r,] p. 12. l. 11. r. _lov'd Israel_; [That still in its Lord _Israel_ takes delight,] p. 19. l. 27. for _loo_ r. _race_ [illegible, possibly "rate"] [To loo the Bloodhounds off to save the Plot.] p. 22. l. 10. r. _Excluding_. [Th'encluding Sanedrims Resolves once shake;]

[Additional errors and anomalies noted by transcriber:

(Title, after dedication) Absalom Senior _catchword on previous page has "Abso-"_ Whilst th'universal Drones buz to his Hives. _apostrophe missing_ If this last Masterpiece requires a Soul. _"f" ("If") invisible_ The Uppermost, indisputably Best. _text reads "indsputably"_ This final Resolution made, at last _line printed after break, but not indented_ But t'Heavens Vice-gerents, Soul, Sense, Reason, all, _the word "vice-gerent" occurs twice_ Why did not th'Oaths of his once-great Colleagues, _apostrophe missing_ Th'Embroiderd Mantle from his Neck he threw. _apostrophe missing_ By profane Crowds in dirt his Prophets spurn'd, _apostrophe invisible_ ]

* * * * *

Poetical Reflections on a Late

POEM

Entituled, Absalom and Achitophel.

_By a Person of Honour._

[Decoration]

_LONDON:_ Printed for _Richard Janeway_. 1681.

TO THE READER.

If ever anything, call'd a _Poem_, deserv'd a severe Reflection, that of _Absalom_ and _Achitophel_ may justly contract it. For tho' Lines can never be purg'd from the dross and filth they would throw on others (there being no retraction that can expiate the conveying of persons to an unjust and publick reproach); yet the cleansing of their fames from a design'd pollution, may well become a more ingenious Pen than the Author of these few reflections will presume to challenge.