By ignominious arts, for fervile ends,
Should compliment their foes, and shun their friends. 690
And now I leave the true and just supports
Of legal princes, and of honest courts,
Barzillai's and the fierce Benaiah's heirs,
Whofe fires, great partners in my Father's cares,
Saluted their young King, at Hebron crown'd,
Great by their toil, and glorious by their wound.
And now (unhappy counse!!) I prefer
Thofe whom my follies only made me fear,
Old Corah's blood, and taunting Shimei's race;
Mifcreants who ow'd their lives to David's grace;
Though they had spurn'd his rule, and curs'd him
to his face.
Still Abra's power my scandal still increas'd; *Juftice fubmitted to what Abra pleas'd:
Her will alone could fettle or revoke ;
And law was fix'd by what the latest spoke.
Ifrael neglected, Abra was my care:
I only acted, thought, and liv'd, for her.
I durft not reafon with my wounded heart;
Abra poffefs'd; she was its better part.
O! had I now review'd the famous cause,
Which gave my righteous youth so just applaufe;
In vain on the diffembled mother's tongue
Had cunning art and fly perfuafion hung;
And real care in vain, and native love,
In the true parent's panting breast had strove ;
While both deceiv'd had feen the deftin'd child
Or flain or fav'd, as Abra frown'd, or fmil'd.
Unknowing to command, proud to obey,
A lifelefs King, a royal fhade, I lay.
Unheard, the injur'd orphans now complain :
The widow's cries addrefs the throne in vain.
Causes unjudg'd disgrace the loaded file;
And fleeping laws the King's neglect revile.
No more the elders throng'd around my throne,
To hear my maxims, and reform their own.
No more the young nobility were taught,
How Mofes govern'd, and how David fought.
Loofe and undifciplin❜d the foldier lay;
Or loft in drink and game the folid day.
Porches and schools, defign'd for public good,
Uncover'd, and with fcaffolds cumber'd stood,
Or nodded, threatening ruin. —
Half pillars wanted their expected height;
And roofs imperfect prejudic'd the fight.
The artifts grieve; the labouring people droop:
My Father's legacy, my country's hope,
The wife and grave deplor'd their Monarch's fate, And future mifchiefs of a finking state.
Is this, the ferious faid, is this the man,
Whose active foul through every science ran ?
Who, by juft rule and elevated skill,
Prefcrib'd the dubious bounds of good and ill?
Whofe golden fayings, and immortal wit,
On large phylacteries expreffive writ,
Were to the forehead of the rabbins ty'd,
Our youth's inftruction, and our age's pride?
Could not the wife his wild defires reftrain?
Then was our hearing, and his preaching vain!
What from his life and letters were we taught,
But that his knowledge aggravates his fault!
In lighter mood the humourous and the gay
(As crown'd with rofes at their feafts they lay)
Sent the full goblet, charg'd with Abra's name,
And charms fuperior to their master's fame.
Laughing, fome praise the King, who let them fee
How aptly luxe and empire might agree:
Some glofs'd, how love and wifdom were at ftrife;
And brought my proverbs to confront my life.
However, friend, here's to the King, one cries:
To him who was the King, the friend replies.
The King, for Judah's and for wifdom's curfe,
To Abra yields could I or thou do worse ?
Our loofer lives let chance or folly fteer,
If thus the prudent and determin’d err.
Let Dinah bind with flowers her flowing hair,
And touch the lute, and found the wanton air:
Let us the blifs without the sting receive,
Free, as we will, or to enjoy, or leave.
Pleasures on levity's fmooth furface flow :
Thought brings the weight that finks the foul to woe.
Now be this maxim to the King convey'd,
And added to the thousand he has made.
Sadly, O Reason, is thy power exprefs'd,
Thoù gloomy tyrant of the frighted breast !
And harsh the rules which we from thee receive,
If for our wisdom we our pleasure give;
And more to think be only more to grieve:
If Judah's King, at thy tribunal try'd,
Forfakes his joy, to vindicate his pride;
And, changing forrows, I am only found
Loos'd from the chains of Love, in thine more strictly
But do I call thee tyrant, or complain,
How hard thy laws, how abfolute thy reign!
While thou, alas! art but an empty name,
To no two men, who e'er difcours'd, the same ;
The idle product of a troubled thought,
In borrow'd fhapes and airy colours wrought;
A fancy'd line, and a reflected fhade;
A chain which man to fetter man has made;
By artifice impos'd, by fear obey'd!
Yet, wretched name, or arbitrary thing,
Whence-ever I thy cruel effence bring,
I own thy influence; for I feel thy fting.
Reluctant I perceive thee in my foul,
Form'd to command, and deftin'd to controul.
Yes; thy infulting dictates fhall be heard;
Virtue for once shall be her own reward:
Yes; rebel Ifrael! this unhappy Maid
Shall be difmifs'd: the croud fhall be obey'd:
The King his paffion and his rule fhall leave,
No longer Abra's, but the people's flave.
My coward foul fhall bear its wayward fate;
I will, alas! be wretched, to be great,
And figh in royalty, and grieve in state.
I faid: refolv'd to plunge into my grief
At once fo far, as to expect relief
I chose to write the thing I durft not speak
To her I lov'd, to her I muft forfake.
The harsh épistle labour'd much to prove,
How inconfiftent Majesty and Love.
I always should, it faid, esteem her well;
But never fee her more: it bid her feel
No future pain for me; but instant wed
A lover more proportion'd to her bed;
And quiet dedicate her remnant life
To the just duties of an humble wife.
She read; and forth to me the wildly ran,
To me, the ease of all her former pain.
She kneel'd, intreated, ftruggled, threaten'd, cry'd,
And with alternate paffion liv'd and dy'd ;
Till, now, deny'd the liberty to mourn,
And by rude fury from my prefence torn,
This only object of my real care,
Cut off from hope, abandon'd to defpair,
In fome few posting fatal hours is hurl'd
From wealth, from power, from love, and from the world.
Here tell me, if thou dar'ft, my conscious foul, What different forrows did within thee roll?
What pangs, what fires, what racks, didft thou fuftain ?
What fad viciffitudes of fmarting pain?
How oft' from pomp and state did I remove,
To feed despair, and cherish hopelefs love?
How oft`, all day, recall'd I Abra's charms,
Her beauties prefs'd, and panting in my arms?
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