Accusers' infamy is urg'd in vain,
While in the bounds of sense they did contain,
But soon they launch'd into th' unfathom'd tide,
And in the depths they knew disdain❜d to ride :
For probable discov'ries to dispense,
Was thought below a pension'd evidence;
Mere truth was dull, nor suited with the port
Of pamper'd Corah when anvanc'd to court.
No less than wonders now they will impose,
And projects void of grace or sense disclose.
Such was the change on pious Michal brought
Michal, that ne'er was cruel e'en in thought,
The best of queens, and most obedient wife,
Impeach'd of curs'd designs on David's life!
His life, the theme of her eternal pray'r.
"T'is scarce so much his guardian angel's care.
Not summer morns such mildness can disclose,
The Hermon lily, nor the Sharon rose.
Neglecting each vain pomp of majesty,
Transported Michal feeds her thoughts on high; 60
She lives with angels, and, as angels do,
Quits heav'n sometimes to bless the world below;
Where, cherish'd by her bounty's plenteous spring,
Reviving widows smile, and orphans sing.
Oh! when rebellious Is'rel's crimes at height,
Are threaten'd with her Lord's approaching fate,
The pieties of Michal then remain
In Heav'n's remembrance, and prolong his reign.
Volume II.
Less dessolation did the pest pursue,
That from Dan's limits to Beersheba slew;
Less fatal the repeated wars of Tyre,
And less Jerusalem's avenging fire:
With gentler terror these our state o'er-ran,
Than since our Evidencing days began!
On ev'ry cheek a pale confusion sate,
Continu'd fear beyond the worst of fate!
Trust was no more, art, science, useless made,
All occupations lost but Corah's trade.
Mean while a guard on modest Corah wait,
If not for safety, needful yet for state.
Well might he dee m each peer and princehis slave,
And lord it o'er the tribes which he could save:
E'en vice in him was virtue-what sad fate,
But for his honesty, had seiz'd our state?
And with what tyranny had we been curst,
Had Corah never prov'd a villain first?
T' have told his knowledge of th' intrigue in gross
Had been, alas ? to our deponent's loss:
The travell'd Levite had th' experience got
To husband well, and make the best of's plot;
And therefore, like an evidence of skill,
With wise reserves secur'd his pension still:
Nor quite of future pow'r himself bereft,
But limboes large for unbelievers left.
And now his writ such reverence had got,
'Twas worse than plotting to suspect his plot.
Some were so well convinc'd, they made no doubt
Themselves to help the founder'd swearers out;
Some had their sense impos'd on by their fear,
But more for int'rest's sake believe and swear: 100
E'en to that height with some the frenzy grew,
They rag'd to find their danger not prove true.
Yet than all these a viler crew remain,
Who with Achithophel the cry maintain;
Not urg'd by fear, nor thro' misguided sense; 105
Blind zeal and starving need had some pretence;
But for the good old cause, that did excite
Th' original rebels' wiles, revenge and spite.
These raise the plot to have the scandal thrown
Upon the bright successor of the crown,
Whose virtue with such wrongs they had pursu'd,
As seem'd all hope of pardon to exclude.
Thus, while on private ends their zeal is built,
The cheated crowd applaud and share their guilt.
Such practices as these, too gross to lie
Long unobserv'd by each discerning eye,
The more judicious Isr'elites unspell'd,
Tho' still the charm the giddy rabble held:
E'en Absalom, amidst the dazzling beams
Of empire, and ambition's flatt'ring dreams,
Perceives the plot, too foul to be excus'd,
To aid designs no less pernicious us'd;
And, filial sense yet striving in his breast,
Thus to Achithophel his doubts exprest.
Why are my thoughts upon a crown employ'd, 125
Which once obtain'd can be but half enjoy'd?
Not so when virtue did my arms require,
And to my father's wars I flew entire.
My regal pow'r how will my foes resent,
When I myself have scarce my own consent?
Give me a son's unblemish'd truth again,
Or quench the sparks of duty that remain.
How slight to force a throne that legions guard!
The task to me to prove unjust how hard!
And if th'imagined guilt thus wound my thought, 135
What will it when the tragic scene is wrought ?
Dire War must first be conjur'd from below,
The realm we'd rule we first must overthrow;
And when the civil furies are on wing,
That blind and undistinguis'd slaughters fling, 140
Who knows what impious chance may reach the
King?
Oh! rather let me perish in the strife,
Than have my crown the price of David's life!
Or if the tempest of the war he stand,
In peace some vile officious villain's hand,
His soul's anointed temple may invade,
Or press'd by clam'rous crowds, myself me made
His murderer; rebellious crowds, whose guilt
Shall dread his vengeance till his blood be spilt; 150
Which, if my filial tenderness oppose,
Since to the empire by their arms I rose,
Those very arms on me shall be employ'd,
A new usurper crown'd, and I destroy'd:
The same pretence of public good will hold, 155
And new Achithophels be found as bold
To urge the needful change, perhaps the old.
He said. The statesman, with a smile, replies,
A smile that did his rising spleen disguise;
My thoughts presum'd our labours at an end,
And are we still with conscience to contend?
Whose want in kings as needful is allow'd,
As 'tis for them to find it in the crowd.
Far in the doubtful passage you are gone,
And only can be safe by pressing on.
The crown's true heir, a prince severe and wise,
Has view'd your motions long with jealous eyes,
Your person's charms, your more prevailing arts,
And mark'd your progress in the people's hearts,
Whose patience is th' effect of stinted pow'r,
But treasures vengeance for the fatal hour,
And if remote the peril he can bring,
What rage must your presumption since inspire,
Against his orders your return from Tyre ?
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