Anti-Achitophel (1682) - Part 3
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Part 3

With his rank oyl he feeds the Royal Lamp.

To Sanedrins an everlasting Foe, Resolv'd his Mighty Hunters overthrow.

And true to Tyranny, as th'only Jem, That truly sparkles in a Diadem; To _Absalons_ side does his old _Covenant_ bring, With _State_ raz'd out, and interlin'd with KING.

But _Nadabs_ Zeal has too severe a Doom; Whilst serving an ungrateful _Absalom_, His strength all spent his Greatness to create, He's now laid by a cast-out Drone of State.

He rowz'd that Game by which he is undone, By fleeter Coursers now so far outrun, That fiercer Mightier _Nimrod_ in the Chace, Till quite thrown out, and lost he quits the Race.

Of Low-born Tools we bawling _Shimei_ saw, _Jerusalems_ late loud-tongu'd MOUTH of Law.

By Blessings from Almighty Bounty given, _Shimei_ no common Favorite of Heaven.

Whom, lest Posterity should loose the Breed, In five short Moons indulgent Heav'n rais'd Seed; Made happy in an Early teeming Bride, And laid a lovely Heiress by her side.

Whilst the glad Father's so divinely blest, } That like the Stag proud of his Brow so drest, } He brandishes his lofty City-Crest. } 'Twas in _Jerusalem_ was _Shimei_ nurst, _Jerusalem_ by _Baals_ Prophets ever curst, The greatest Block that stops 'em in their way, For which she once in Dust and Ashes lay.

Here to the Bar this whiffling Lurcher came, And barkt to rowze the n.o.bler Hunters Game.

But _Shimei's_ Lungs might well be stretcht so far; For steering by a Court-Ascendant Star, For daily Oracles he does address, To the _Egyptian_ Beauteous Sorceress.

For _Pharoah_ when he wisely did essay To bear the long-sought Golden Prize away, That fair Enchantress sent, whose Magick Skill Should keep great _Israels_ sleeping Dragon still.

Thus by her powerful inspirations fed, } To bite their Heels this City-Snake was bred, } Till _Absalon_ got strength to bruise their Head. } Of all the Heroes since the world began, To _Shimei Joshuah_ was the bravest Man.

To Him his Tutelar Saint he prays, and oh, That great _Jerusalem_ were like _Jericoh_!

Then bellowing lowd for _Joshuahs_ Spirit calls, Because his Rams-horn blew down City-Walls.

In the same Roll have we grave _Corah_ seen, _Corah_, the late chief Scarlet _Abbethdin_.

_Corah_, who luckily i'th' Bench was got, To loo the Bloodhounds off to save the Plot.

_Corah_, who once against _Baals_ Impious Cause, Stood strong for _Israels_ Faith and _Davids_ Laws.

He poys'd his Scales, and shook his ponderous Sword, Lowd as his Fathers _Basan_-Bulls he roar'd; Till by a Dose of Forreign _Ophir_ drencht, The Feavour of his Burning Zeal was Quencht.

_Ophir_, that rescu'd the Court-Drugsters Fate, Sent in the Nick to gild his Pills of State.

Whilst the kind Skill of our Law-Emperick, Sublim'd his Mercury to save his Neck.

In Law, they say, he had but a slender Mite, And Sense he had less: for as Historians write, The _Arabian_ Legate laid a Snare so gay, As Spirited his little Wits away.

Of the Records of Law he fancied none Like the Commandment Tables graved in Stone.

And wish'd the _Talmude_ such, that Soveraign sway When once displeased might th'angry _Moses_ play.

Onely his Law was Brittle i'th' wrong place: For had our _Corah_ been in _Moses_ Case, The Fury of his Zeal had been employ'd To build that Calf which th'others Rage destroy'd.

Thus _Corah, Baals_ true Fayry Changeling made, He Bleated onely as the _Pharisees_ pray'd, All to advance that future Tyrant pow'r, Should Widows Houses gorge, and Orphans Tears devour.

Nor are these all their Instruments; to prop Their Mighty Cause, and _Israels_ Murmurs stop; They find a sort of Academick Tools; Who by the Politick Doctrine of their Schools, Betwixt Reward, Pride, Avarice, Hope and Fear, Prizing their Heav'n too cheap, the World too dear, Stand bold and strong for _Absolons_ Defence: Interest the Thing, but Conscience the Pretence.

These to ensure him for their _Sions_ King, A Right Divine quite down from _Adam_ bring, That old Levitick Engine of Renown, That makes no Taint of Souls a bar t'a Crown.

'Tis true, Religions constant Champion vow'd, Each open-mouth'd, with Pulpit-Thunder lowd, Against false G.o.ds, and Idol Temples bawls; Yet lays the very Stones that raise their Walls.

They preach up h.e.l.l to those that _Baal_ adore, Yet make't d.a.m.nation to oppose his pow'r.

So far this Paradox of Conscience run, Till _Israels_ Faith pulls _Israels_ Altars down.

Grant Heav'n they don't to _Baal_ so far make way, Those fatal _Wands_ before their Sheepfolds lay.

Such Motley Principles amongst them thrown, Shall nurse that Py-ball'd Flock that's half his own.

Nor may they say, when _Molocks_ Hands draw nigher, We built the Pile, whilst _Baal_ but gives it fire.

If Monarchy in _Adam_ first begun, When the Worlds Monarch dug, and his Queen spun, His Fig-leaves his first Coronation-Robe, His Spade his Scepter, and her Wheel his Globe; And Royal Birthright, as their Schools a.s.sert, Not Kings themselves with Conscience can divert; How came the World possest by _Adams_ Sons, Such various Princ.i.p.alities, Powres, Thrones?

When each went out and chose what Lands he pleas'd, Whilst a new Family new Kingdoms rais'd?

His Sons a.s.suming what he could not give, } Their Soveraign Sires right Heir they did deprive; } And from Rebellion all their pow'r derive: } For were there an original Majesty } Upheld by Right Divine, the World should be } Onely one Universal Monarchy. } O cruel Right Divine, more full of Fate, Then th' Angels flaming Sword at _Edens_ Gate, Such early Treason through Mankind convey'd, And at the door of Infant-Nature layd.

For Right Divine in _Esau's_ just defence, Why don't they quarrel with Omnipotence, The first-born _Esau's_ Right to _Jacob_ giv'n, And G.o.ds gift too, Injustice charge on Heav'n.

Nay, let Heav'n answer this one Fact alone, Mounting a b.a.s.t.a.r.d _Jephtha_ on a Throne.

If Kings and Sanedrims those Laws could make, Which from offending Heirs their Heads can take; And a First-born can forfeit Life and Throne, And all by Law: why not a Crown alone?

Strange-bounded Law-makers! whose pow'r can throw The deadlier Bolt, can't give the weaker Blow.

A Treasonous Act; nay, but a Treasonous Breath Against offended Majesty is Death.

But, oh! the wondrous Church-distinction given Between the Majesty of Kings and Heav'n!

The venial sinner here, he that intreagues With _Egypt, Babylon_; Cabals, Plots, Leagues With _Israels_ Foes her Altars to destroy, A Hair untouch'd, shall Health, Peace, Crowns enjoy.

Truths Temple thus the Exhalations bred From her own Bowels, to obscure her Head.

And _Absolom_ already had subdu'd Whole Crowds of the unthinking Mult.i.tude.

But through these Wiles too weak to catch the Wise, Thin as their Ephod-Lawn, a Cobweb Net for Flyes, The searching Sanedrim saw; and to dispel Th'ingendring Mists that threatned _Israel_, They still resolv'd their Plotting Foes defeat, By barring _Absolon_ th'Imperial Seat.

But here's his greatest Tug; could he but make Th'encluding Sanedrims Resolves once shake; Nay, make the smallest Breach, or clashing Jar, In their great Councel, push but home so far, And the great Point's secur'd.----And, lo! among The Princely Heads of that Ill.u.s.trious Throng, He saw rich Veins with n.o.ble Blood new fill'd; Others who Honour from Dependance held.

Some with exhausted Fortunes, to support Their Greatness, propt with Crutches from a Court.

These for their Countries Right their Votes still pa.s.s, Mov'd like the Water in a Weather-gla.s.s, Higher or lower, as the powerful Charm O'th' Soveraign Hand is either cool or warm.

Here must th'Attacque be made: for well we know, Reason and t.i.tles from one Fountain flow: Whilst Favour Men no less than Fortunes builds, And Honour ever Moulds as well as Guilds.

Honour that still does even new Souls inspire; Honour more powerful than the Heav'n-stoln Fire.

These must be wrought to _Absolons_ Defence.

For though to baffle the whole Sanedrims Sence, T'attempt Impossibles would be in vain, Yet 'tis enough but to _Divide_ and _Raign_.

Here though small Force such easie Converts draws, Yet 'tis thought fit in glory to their Cause, Some learned Champion of prodigious Sense, With Mighty and long studyed Eloquence, Should with a kind of Inspiration rise, And the unguarded Sanedrim surprize, And such resistless conquering Reasons press, } To charm their vanquisht Souls, that the Success } Might look like Conscience, though 'tis nothing less. }

For this Design no Head nor Tongue so well, As that of the profound _Achitophel_.

How, great _Achitophel_! his Hand, his Tongue!

_Babylons_ Mortal Foe; he who so long With haughty Sullenness, and scornful Lowr, Had loath'd false G.o.ds, and Arbitrary pow'r.

'Gainst _Baal_ no Combatant more fierce than he; For _Israels_ a.s.serted Liberty, No Man more bold; with generous Rage enflam'd, Against the old ensnaring Test declaim'd.

Beside, he bore a most peculiar Hate To sleeping Pilots, all Earth-clods of State.

None more abhorr'd the Sycophant Buffoon, And Parasite, th'excrescence of a Throne; Creatures who their creating Sun disgrace, A Brood more abject than _Niles_ Slime-born Race.

Such was the Brave _Achitophel_; a Mind, (If but the Heart and Face were of a kind) So far from being by one base Thought deprav'd, That sure half ten such Souls had _Sodom_ sav'd.

Here _Baals_ Cabal _Achitophel_ survey'd, And dasht with wonder, half despairing said, Is this the Hand that _Absolon_ must Crown, The Founder of his Temples, Palace, Throne?

This, This the mighty Convert we must make?

G.o.ds, h'has a Soul not all our Arts can shake.

At this a nicer graver Head stept out, And with this Language chid their groundless Doubt: For shame, no more; what is't that frights you thus?

Is it his Hatred of our G.o.d, and us, Makes him so formidable in your Eye?

Or is't his Wit, Sense, Honour, Bravery?

Give him a thousand Virtues more, and plant Them round him like a Wall of Adamant, Strong as the Gates of Heaven; we'll reach his Heart: Cheer, cheer, my Friends, I've found one Mortal part.

For he has _Pride_, a vast insatiate _Pride_, Kind Stark, he's vulnerable on that side.

Pride that made Angels fall, and pride that hurl'd Entayl'd Destruction through a ruin'd World.

_Adam_ from Pride to Disobedience ran: To be like G.o.ds, made a lost wretched Man.

There, there, my Sons, let our pour'd strength all fly: For some bold Tempter now to rap him high, From Pinnacles to Mountain Top, and show The gaudy Glories of the World below.

At which the Consult came to this Design, To work him by a kind of Touch Divine.

To raise some holy Spright to do the Feat.

Nothing like Dreams and Visions to the Great.

Did not a little Witch of _Endor_ bring A Visionary Seer t'a cheated King?

And shall their greater Magick want Success, Their more Ill.u.s.trious Sorceries do less!

This final Resolution made, at last Some Mystick words, and invocations past, They call'd the Spirit of a late Court-Scribe; Once a true Servant of the Plotting Tribe: When both with Forreign and Domestick Cost, He plaid the feasted Sanedrims kind Host.

H'had scribbled much, and like a Patriot bold, Bid high for _Israels_ Peace with _Egypts_ Gold.

But since a Martyr. (Why! as Writers think, His Masters Hand had over-gall'd his Ink.) And by protesting _Absoloms_ wise care, Popt into Brimstone ere he was aware.

Him from the Grave they rais'd, in ample kind, His sever'd Head to his seer Quarters joyn'd; Then cas'd his Chin in a false Beard so well, As made him pa.s.s for Father _Samuel_.

Him thus equipt in a Religious Cloak, They thus his new-made Reverence bespoke.

Go, awful Spright, hast to _Achitophel_, Rouze his great Soul, use every Art, Charm, Spell: For _Absolom_ thy utmost Rhetorick try, Preach him Succession, roar'd Succession cry, Succession drest in all her glorious pride, Succession Worshipt, Sainted, Deify'd.

Conjure him by Divine and Humane Pow'rs, Convince, Convert, Confound, make him but ours, That _Absolon_ may mount on _Judahs_ Throne, Whilst all the World before us is our own.

The forward Spright but few Instructions lackt, Strait by the Moons pale light away he packt, And in a trice, his Curtains open'd wide, He sate him by _Achitophels_ Bed-side.

And in this style his artful Accents ran.