But ere their hands this glorious work can Crown, Their long-known Foe the Sanedrin must down; Sanedrins the Free-born _Israels_ Sacred Right, That G.o.d-like Ballance of Imperial Might; Where Subjects are from Tyrant-Lords set free, _From that wild Thing unbounded man would be_; Where Pow'r and Clemency are poys'd so even, A Const.i.tution that resembles Heav'n.

So in th'united great THREE-ONE we find A Saving with a Dooming G.o.dhead joyn'd.

(But why, oh why! if such restraining pow'r Can bind Omnipotence, should Kings wish more?) A Const.i.tution, so Divinely mixt, Not Natures bounded Elements more fixt.

Thus Earths vast Frame with firm and solid ground, } Stands in a foaming Ocean circled round; } Yet This not overflowing, That not drown'd. } But to rebuild their Altars, and enstal Their Moulten G.o.ds, the Sanedrin must fall; That Constellation of the Jewish Pow'r, All blotted from its...o...b..must shine no more; Or stampt in _Pharoahs_ darling Mould, must quit Their Native Beams, for a new-model'd Light; Like _Egypts_ Sanedrins, their influence gone, Flash but like empty Meteors round the Throne: That that new Lord may _Judahs_ Scepter weild, To whom th'old Brickill Taskmasters must yield; Who, to erect new Temples for his G.o.ds, Shall th'enslav'd _Israel_ drive with Iron Rods; If they want Bricks for his new Walls t'aspire, To their sad cost, he'll find 'em Straw and Fire.

All this t'effect, and their new Fabrick build, Both close Cabals and Forreign Leagues are held: To _Babylon_ and _Egypt_ they send o're, And both their Conduct and their Gold implore.

By such Abettors the sly Game was plaid; One of their Chiefs a Jewish Renegade, High-born in _Israel_, one _Michals_ Priest, But now in _Babylons_ proud Scarlet drest.

'Tis to his Hands the Plotting Mandats come Subscrib'd by the Apostate _Absolom_.

Nay, and to keep themselves all danger-proof, That none might track the _Belial_ by his Hoof, Their Correspondence veil'd from prying Eyes, In Hieroglyphick Figures they disguise.

Husht as the Night, in which their Plots combin'd, And silent as the Graves they had design'd, Their Ripening Mischiefs to perfection sprung.

But oh! the much-loath'd _David_ lives too long.

Their Vultures cannot mount but from his Tomb; And with too hungry ravenous Gorges come, To be by airy Expectation fed.

No Prey, no Spoil, before they see Him Dead.

Yes, Dead; the Royal Sands too slowly pa.s.s, And therefore they're resolved to break the Gla.s.s: And to ensure Times tardy dubious Call, Decree their Daggers should his Sythe forestall.

For th'execrable Deed a Hireling Crew Their h.e.l.l and They pick out; whom to make true, An Oath of Force so exquisite they frame, Sworn in the Blood of _Israels_ Paschal Lamb.

If false, the Vengeance of that Sword that slew _Egypts_ First-born, their perjur'd Heads pursue.

Strong was the Oath, the Imprecation dire; And for a Viand, lest their Guilt should tire, With promis'd Paradice they cheer their way; And bold's the Souldier who has Heav'n his pay.

But the ne'r-sleeping Providence that stands With jealous Eyes o're Truths up-lifted Hands; That still in its Lord _Israel_ takes delight, Their Cloud by Day, and Guardian Fire by Night; A Ray from out its Fiery Pillar cast, That overlook'd their driving _Jehu_'s hast.

All's ruin'd and betray'd: their own false Slaves } Detect the Plot, and dig their Masters Graves: } Not Oaths nor Bribes shall bind, when great _Jehovah_ saves. } The frighted _Israelites_ take the Alarm, Resolve the Traitors Sorceries t'uncharm: Till cursing, raving, mad, and drunk with Rage, In _Amnons_ Blood their frantick Hands engage.

Here let the Ghost of strangl'd _Amnon_ come, A Specter that will strike Amazement dumb; _Amnon_ the Proto-Martyr of the Plot, The Murder'd _Amnon_, their Eternal Blot; Whose too bold zeal stood like a _Pharos_ Light, _Israel_ to warn, and track their Deeds of Night.

Till the sly Foe his unseen Game to play, Put out the Beacon to secure his way.

_Baals_ Cabinet-Intrigues he open spread, The Ravisht _Tamar_ for whose sake he bled.

T'unveil their Temple and expose their G.o.ds, Deserv'd their vengeances severest Rods: Wrath he deserv'd, and had the Vial full, To lay those Devils had possest his Soul.

His silenc'd Fiends from his wrung Neck they twist; Whilst his kind Murd'rer's but his Exorcist.

Here draw, bold Painter, (if thy Pencil dare Unshaking write, what _Israel_ quak'd to hear,) A Royal Altar pregnant with a Load Of Humane Bones beneath a Breaden G.o.d.

Altars so rich not _Molocks_ Temples show; 'Twas Heaven above, and _Golgotha_ below.

Yet are not all the Mystick Rites yet done: Their pious Fury does not stop so soon.

But to pursue the loud-tongu'd Wounds they gave, Resolves to stab his Fame beyond the Grave, And in Eternal Infamy to brand With _Amnons_ Murder, _Amnons_ righteous Hand.

Here with a Bloodless wound, by h.e.l.lish Art, With his own Sword they goar his Lifeless Heart.

Thus in a Ditch the butcher'd _Amnon_ lay, A Deed of Night enough to have kept back the Day.

Had not the Sun in Sacred vengeance rose, Asham'd to see, but prouder to disclose, Warm'd with new Fires, with all his posting speed, Brought Heav'ns bright Lamp to shew th'Infernal Deed.

What art thou, Church! when Faith to propagate, And crush all Bars that stop thy growing state, Thou break'st through Natures, G.o.ds, and Humane Laws, Whilst Murder's Merit in a Churches Cause.

How much thy Ladder _Jacobs_ does excel: Whose Top's in Heaven like His, but Foot in h.e.l.l; Thy Causes b.l.o.o.d.y Champions to befriend, For Fiends to Mount, as Angels to Descend.

This was the stroke did th'alarm'd World surprize, And even to infidelity lent Eyes: Whilst sweating _Absolon_ in _Israel_ pent, For fresher Air was to bleak _Hebron_ sent.

Cold _Hebron_ warm'd by his approaching sight, Flusht with his Gold, and glow'd with new delight.

Till Sacred all-converting Interest To Loyalty, their almost unknown Guest, Oped a broad Gate, from whence forth-issuing come, Decrees, Tests, Oaths, for well-sooth'd _Absolom_.

Spight of that Guilt that made even Angels fall, An unbarr'd Heir shall Reign: In spight of all Apostacy from Heav'n, or Natures tyes, Though for his Throne a _Cain_-built Palace rise.

No wonder _Hebron_ such Devotion bears T'Imperial Dignity, and Royal Heirs; For they, whom Chronicle so high renowns For selling Kings, should know the price of Crowns.

Here, Glorious _Hushai_, let me mourn thy Fate, Thou once great Pillar of the _Hebron_ State: Yet now to Dungeons sent, and doom'd t'a Grave.

But Chains are no new Sufferings to the Brave.

Witness thy pains in six years Bonds endur'd, For _Israels_ Faith, and _Davids_ Cause immur'd.

Death too thou oft for _Judahs_ Crown hast stood, So bravely fac'd in several Fields of Blood.

But from Fames Pinnacle now headlong cast, Life, Honour, all are ruin'd at a Blast.

For _Absolons_ great LAW thou durst explain; Where but to pry, bold Lord, was to prophane: A Law that did his Mystick G.o.d-head couch, Like th'Ark of G.o.d, and no less Death to touch.

Forgot are now thy Honourable Scars, Thy Loyal Toyls, and Wounds in _Judahs_ Wars.

Had thy pil'd Trophies _Babel_-high, reacht Heav'n, Yet by one stroke from _Absolons_ Thunder given, Thy towring Glorie's levell'd to the ground; } A stroke does all thy Tongues of Fame confound, } And, Traitor, now is all the Voice they sound. } True, thou hadst Law; that even thy Foes allow; But to thy Advocates, as d.a.m.n'd as Thou, 'Twas Death to plead it. Artless _Absolon_ The b.l.o.o.d.y Banner to display so soon: Such killing Beams from thy young Day-break shot; What will the Noon be, if the Morn's so hot?

Yes, dreadful Heir, the Coward _Hebron_ awe.

So the young Lion tries his tender Paw.

At a poor Herd of feeble Heifers flies, Ere the rough Bear, tusk'd Boar, or spotted Leopard dies.

Thus flusht, great Sir, thy strength in _Israel_ try: When their Cow'd Sanedrims shall prostrate lye, And to thy feet their slavish Necks shall yield; Then raign the Princely Savage of the Field.

Yes, _Israels_ Sanedrin, 'twas they alone That set too high a Value on a Throne; Thought they had a G.o.d was Worthy to be serv'd; A Faith maintain'd, and Liberty preserv'd.

And therefore judg'd, for Safety and Renown Of _Israels_ People, Altars, Laws and Crown, Th'Anointing Drops on Royal Temples shed Too precious Showrs for an Apostates Head.

Then was that great Deliberate Councel giv'n, An Act of Justice both to Man and Heav'n, _Israels_ conspiring Foes to overthrow, That _Absolon_ should th'Hopes of Crowns forego.

Debarr'd Succession! oh that dismal sound!

A sound, at which _Baal_ stagger'd, and h.e.l.l groan'd; A sound that with such dreadful Thunder falls, 'Twas heard even to _Semiramis_ trembling Walls.

But hold! is this the Plots last Murd'ring Blow, The dire divorce of Soul and Body? No.

The mangled Snake, yet warm, to Life they'll bring, And each disjoynted Limb together cling.

Then thus _Baals_ wise consulting Prophets cheer'd Their pensive Sons, and call'd the scatter'd Herd.

Are we quite ruin'd! No, mistaken Doom, Still the great Day, yes that great Day shall come, (Oh, rouse our fainting Sons, and droop no more.) A Day, whose l.u.s.ter, our long Clouds blown o're, Not all the Rage of _Israel_ shall annoy, No, nor denouncing Sanedrims destroy.

See yon North-Pole, and mark _Bootes Carr_: Oh! we have those Influencing Aspects there, Those Friendly pow'rs that drive in that bright _Wain_, Shall redeem All, and our lost Ground regain.

Whilst to our Glory their kind Aid stands fast, But one Plot more, our Greatest and our Last.

Now for a Product of that subtle kind, As far above their former Births refin'd, As Firmamental Fires t'a Tapers ray, Or Prodigies to Natures common Clay.

Empires in Blood, or Cities in a Flame, Are work for vulgar Hands, scarce worth a Name.

A Cake of _Shew-bread_ from an Altar ta'ne, Mixt but with some Levitical King-bane, Has sent a Martyr'd Monarch to his Grave.

Nay, a poor Mendicant Church-Rake-h.e.l.l slave Has stab'd Crown'd Heads; slight Work to hands well-skill'd, Slight as the Pebble that _Goliah_ kill'd.

But to make Plots no Plots, to clear all Taints, Traitors transform to Innocents, Fiends to Saints, Reason to Nonsence, Truth to Perjury; Nay, make their own attesting Records lye, And even the gaping Wounds of Murder whole: If this last Masterpiece requires a Soul.

Guilt to unmake, and Plots annihilate, Is much a greater work than to create.

Nay both at once to be, and not to be, Is such a Task would pose a Deity.

Let _Baal_ do this, and be a G.o.d indeed: Yes, this Immortal Honour 'tis decreed, His Sanguine Robe though dipt in reeking Gore, With purity and Innocence all o're, Shall dry, and spotless from the purple hue, The Miracle of _Gideons_ Fleece outdo.

Yes, they're resolv'd, in all their foes despight, To wash their more than _Ethiop_ Treason White.

But now for Heads to manage the Design, Fit Engineers to labour in this Mine.

For their own hands 'twere fatal to employ: Should _Baal_ appear, it would _Baals_ Cause destroy.

Alas, should onely their own Trumpets sound Their Innocence, the jealous Ears around All Infidels would the loath'd Charmer fly, And through the Angels voice the Fiend descry.

No, this last game wants a new plotting Set, And _Israel_ only now can _Israel_ cheat.

In this Machine their profest Foes must move, Whilst _Baal_ absconding sits in Clouds above, From whence unseen he guides their bidden way: For he may prompt, although he must not play.

This to effect a sort of Tools they find, Devotion-Rovers, an Amphibious Kind, Of no Religion, yet like Walls of Steel Strong for the Altars where their Princes kneel.

Imperial not Celestial is their Test, The Uppermost, indisputably Best.

They always in the golden Chariot rod, Honour their Heav'n, and Interest their G.o.d.

Of these then subtil _Caleb_ none more Great, _Caleb_ who shines where his lost Father set; Got by that sire, who not content alone, } To shade the brightest Jewel in a Crown, } Preaching Ingrat.i.tude t'a Court and Throne; } But made his Politicks the baneful Root From whence the springing Woes of _Israel_ shoot, When his Great Masters fatal _Gordian_ tyed, He lai'd the barren _Michal_ by his side; That the ador'd _Absolons_ immortal Line Might on _Judeas_ Throne for ever shine.

_Caleb_, who does that hardy Pilot make, } Steering in that Hereditary Track, } Blind to the Sea-Mark of a Fathers Wrack. }

Next _Jonas_ stands bull-fac'd, but chicken-soul'd, Who once the silver Sanedrin Controul'd, Their Gold-tip'd Tongue; Gold his great Councels Bawd: Till by succeeding Sanedrins outlaw'd, He was prefer'd to guard the sacred Store: There Lordly rowling in whole Mines of Oar; To Diceing Lords, a Cully-Favourite, He prost.i.tutes whole _Cargoes_ in a Night.

Here to the Top of his Ambition come, Fills all his Sayls for hopeful _Absolom._ For his Religion's as the Season calls, G.o.ds in Possession, in Reversion _Baals._ He bears himself a Dove to Mortal Race, And though not Man, he can look Heav'n i'th' Face.

Never was Compound of more different Stuff, A Heart in Lambskin, and a Conscience Buff.

Let not that Hideous Bulk of Honour scape, _Nadab_ that sets the gazing Crowd agape: That old Kirk-founder, whose course Croak could sing The Saints, the Cause, no Bishop, and no King: When Greatness clear'd his Throat, and scowr'd his Maw, Roard out Succession, and the Penal Law.

Not so of old: another sound went forth, When in the Region from _Judea_ North, By the Triumphant _Saul_ he was employ'd, A huge fang Tusk to goar poor _Davids_ side.

Like a Proboscis in the Tyrants Jaw, To rend and root through Government and Law.

His hand that h.e.l.l-penn'd League of _Belial_ drew, } That Swore down Kings, Religion overthrew, } Great _David_ banisht, and G.o.ds Prophets slew. } Nor does the Courts long Sun so powerful shine, T'exhale his Vapours, or his Dross refine; Nor is the Metal mended by the stamp.