They ask, I grant; they threaten, I obey.
In regal garments now I gravely stride,
Awed by the Persian damsel's haughty pride.
Now with the looser Syrian dance, and sing,
In robes tucked up, opprobrious to the king.
Charmed by their eyes, their manners I acquire,
And shape my foolishness to their desire;
Seduced and awed by the Philistine dame,
At Dagon's shrine I kindle impious flame.
With the Chaldean's charms her rites prevail,
And curling frankincense ascends to Baal.
To each new harlot I new altars dress,
And serve her god, whose person I caress.
Where, my deluded sense, was reason flown,
Where the high majesty of David's throne,
Where all the maxims of eternal truth,
With which the living God informed my youth?
When with the lewd Egyptian I adore
Vain idols, deities that ne'er before
In Israel's land had fixed their dire abodes,
Beastly divinities, and droves of gods;
Osiris, Apis, powers that chew the cud,
And dog Anubis, flatterer for his food;
When in the woody hills' forbidden shade
I carved the marble, and invoked its aid:
When in the fens to snakes and flies, with zeal
Unworthy human thought, I prostrate fell;
To shrubs and plants my vile devotion paid,
And set the bearded leek, to which I prayed:
When to all beings sacred rites were given,
Forgot the arbiter of earth and heaven.
Through these sad shades, this chaos in my soul, Some seeds of light at length began to roll; The rising motion of an infant ray
Shot glimmering through the cloud, and promised day.
And now, one moment able to reflect,
I found the king abandoned to neglect;
Seen without awe, and served without respect.
I found my subjects amicably join,
To lessen their defects by citing mine.
The priest with pity prayed for David's race,
And left his text, to dwell on my disgrace.
The father, whilst he warned his erring son,
The sad examples which he ought to shun,
Described, and only named not Solomon.
Each bard, each sire did to his pupil sing,
A wise child better than a foolish king.
Into myself my reason's eye I turned;
And as I much reflected, much I mourned.
A mighty king I am, an earthly god,
Nations obey my word, and wait my nod;
I raise or sink, imprison or set free,
And life or death depends on my decree.
Fond the idea, and the thought is vain :
O'er Judah's king ten thousand tyrants reign;
Legions of lust, and various powers of ill
Insult the master's tributary will;
And he, from whom the nations should receive
Justice and freedom, lies himself a slave,
Tortured by cruel change of wild desires,
Lashed by mad rage, and scorched by brutal fires.
O Reason! once again to thee I call,
Accept my sorrow, and retrieve my fall.
Wisdom, thou say'st, from Heaven received her birth;
Her beams transmitted to the subject earth;
Yet this great empress of the human soul
Does only with imagined power control,
If restless passion by rebellious sway
Compels the weak usurper to obey.
O troubled, weak, and coward, as thou art!
Without thy poor advice the labouring heart
To worse extremes with swifter steps would run,
Not saved by virtue, yet by vice undone.
Oft have I said; the praise of doing well
Is to the ear, as ointment to the smell.
Now, if some flies perchance, however small,
Into the alabaster urn should fall,
The odours of the sweets inclosed, would die;
And stench corrupt, sad change, their place supply.
So the least faults, if mixed with fairest deed,
Of future ill become the fatal seed;
Into the balm of purest virtue cast,
Annoy all life with one contagious blast.
Lost Solomon! pursue this thought no more: Of thy past errors recollect the store; And silent weep, that while the deathless Muse Shall sing the just, shall o'er their heads diffuse Perfumes with lavish hand, she shall proclaim Thy crimes alone; and to thy evil fame Impartial, scatter damps and poisons on thy name. Awaking therefore, as who long had dreamed, Much of my women and their gods ashamed;
From this abyss of exemplary vice
Resolved, as time might aid my thought, to rise;
Again I bid the mournful goddess write
The fond pursuit of fugitive delight;
Bid her exalt her melancholy wing,
And, raised from earth, and saved from passion, sing
Of human hope by cross event destroyed,
Of useless wealth, and greatness unenjoyed,
Of lust and love, with their fantastic train,
Their wishes, smiles, and looks deceitful all, and vain.
TEXTS CHIEFLY ALLUDED TO IN BOOK III.
Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Ecclesiastes xii. 6.
The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose. i. 5.
The wind goeth towards the south, and turneth about unto the north. It whirleth about continually; and the wind returneth again, according to his circuits. Verse 6.
All the rivers run into the sea: yet the sea is not full. whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. xii. 7.
Now when Solomon had made an end of praying, the fire came down from heaven, and consumed the burnt-offering, and the sacrifices; and the glory of the Lord filled the house. 2 Chron. vii. 1.
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down; yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion, &c. Psalm cxxxvii. 1.
I said of laughter, It is mad; and of mirth, What doeth it? Ecclesiastes ii. 2. No man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. iii. 11.
Whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever; nothing can be put to it, nor anything taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him. Verse 14.
Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter; Fear God and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man. xii. 13.
Solomon considers man through the several stages and conditions of life; and concludes in general, that we are all miserable. He reflects more particularly upon the trouble and uncertainty of greatness and power; gives some instances thereof from Adam down to himself; and still concludes that all is vanity. He reasons again upon life, death, and a future being; finds human wisdom too imperfect to resolve his doubts; has recourse to religion; is informed by an angel, what shall happen to himself, his family, and his kingdom, till the redemption of Israel; and, upon the whole, resolves to submit his inquiries and anxieties to the will of his Creator.
COME then, my soul, I call thee by that name,
Thou busy thing, from whence I know I am:
For, knowing what I am, I know thou art;
Since that must needs exist, which can impart.
But how cam'st thou to be, or whence thy spring,
For various of thee priests and poets sing.
Hear'st thou submissive; but a lowly birth,
Some separate particles of finer earth,
A plain effect which nature must beget,
As motion orders, and as atoms meet;
Companion of the body's good or ill,
From force of instinct more than choice of will;
Conscious of fear or valour, joy or pain,
As the wild courses of the blood ordain;
Who as degrees of heat and cold prevail,
In youth dost flourish, and with age shalt fail;
Till, mingled with thy partner's latest breath,
Thou flyst dissolved in air, and lost in death.
Or if thy great existence would aspire
To causes more sublime; of heavenly fire
Wert thou a spark struck off, a separate ray,
Ordained to mingle with terrestrial clay;
With it condemned for certain years to dwell,
To grieve its frailties, and its pains to feel;
To teach it good and ill, disgrace or fame,
Pale it with rage, or redden it with shame;
To guide its actions with informing care,
In peace to judge, to conquer in the war;
Render it agile, witty, valiant, sage,
As fits the various course of human age;
Till, as the earthly part decays and falls,
The captive breaks her prison's mouldering walls;
Hovers a while upon the sad remains,
Which now the pile, or sepulchre contains;
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