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 roses at their feasts they lay) Sent the full goblet, charg'd with Abra's name, And charms fuperior to their master's fame. Laughing, fome praife the King, who let them fee How aptly luxe and empire might agree:
Some glofs'd, how love and wisdom were at ftrife; And brought my proverbs to confront my life. However, friend, here's to the King, one cries: 760 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 worfe? Our loofer lives let chance or folly steer,
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 fting 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 thoufand he has made. Sadly, O Reafon, is thy power exprefs'd, Thou gloomy tyrant of the frighted breast ! And harth the rules which we from thee receive, If for our wifdom 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 bound!
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 fame ; The idle product of a troubled thought, In borrow'd fhapes and airy colours wrought; A fancy'd line, and a reflected shade;
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 sting. 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 fhall 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 shall 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 epiftle labour'd much to prove, How inconfiftent Majefty and Love.
I always fhould, it faid, esteem her well; But never fee her more: it bid her feel No future pain for me; but inftant wed A lover more proportion'd to her bed; And quiet dedicate her remnant life To the juft 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 presence torn, This only object of my real care, Cut off from hope, abandon'd to despair, 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 différent forrows did within thee roll?
What pangs, what fires, what racks, didst thou sustain ?
What fad viciffitudes of fmarting pain?
How oft' from pomp and state did I remove,
To feed despair, and cherish hopeless love?
How oft', all day, recall'd I Abra's charms, Her beauties prefs'd, and panting in my arms?
How oft', with fighs, view'd ev'ry female face, Where mimic fancy might her likeness trace? How oft' defir'd to fly from Ifrael's throne, And live in fhades with her and Love alone? How oft', all night, pursued her in my dreams, O'er flowery vallies, and through crystal streams? And, waking, view'd with grief the rifing fun, And fondly mourn'd the dear delufion gone?
When thus the gather'd storms of wretched Love, 845 In my fwoln bofom, with long war had strove; At length they broke their bounds; at length their force Bore down whatever met its ftronger courfe; Laid all the civil bonds of manhood wafte; And scatter'd ruin as the torrent past.
So from the hills, whofe hollow caves contain
The congregated fnow and swelling rain,
Till the full ftores their ancient bounds difdain, Precipitate the furious torrent flows:
In vain would speed avoid, or strength oppose; Towns, forests, herds, and men, promifcuous drown'd, With one great death deform the dreary ground: The echoed woes from diftant rocks refound. And now, what impious ways my wishes took, How they the monarch and the man forsook ; And how I follow'd an abandon'd will, Through crooked paths, and fad retreats of ill; How Judah's daughters now, now foreign flaves, By turns my prostituted bed receives; Through tribes of women how I loosely rang'd Impatient; lik'd to-night, to-morrow chang'd;
And, by the instinct of capricious lụst, Enjoy'd, difdain'd, was grateful, or unjust : O, be these scenes from human eyes conceal'd, In clouds of decent filence juftly veil'd! O, be the wanton images convey'd
To black oblivion, and eternal shade!
Or let their fad epitome alone,
And outward lines, to future age be known,
Enough to propagate the fure belief,
That vice engenders fhame, and folly broods o'er grief!
Bury'd in floth, and loft in ease, I lay;
The night I revel'd; and I flept the day.
New heaps of fewel damp'd my kindling fires; And daily change extinguifh'd young defires. By its own force destroy'd, fruition ceas'd; And, always weary'd, I was never pleas'd. No longer now does my neglected mind 'ts wonted ftores and old ideas find.
Fix'd judgement there no longer does abide,
To take the true, or fet the false afide.
No longer does fwift memory trace the cells,
Where fpringing wit, or young invention, dwells. Frequent debauch to habitude prevails;
Patience of toil, and love of virtue, fails.
By fad degrees impair'd, my vigour dies; Till I command no longer ev'n in vice.
The women on my dotage build their sway; They afk; I grant; they threaten; I obey. n regal garments now I gravely stride, Aw d by the Perfian damfel's haughty pride:
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