Neglecting each vain pomp of majesty,

Transported Michal feeds her thoughts on high.
She lives with angels, and, as angels do,
Quits heaven fometimes to bless the world below.
Where, cherish'd by her bounty's plenteous fpring,
Reviving widows fmile, and orphans fing.

Oh! when rebellious Ifrael's crimes at height,
Are threaten'd with her Lord's approaching fate,
The piety of Michal then remain

In heaven's remembrance, and prolong his reign!
Lefs defolation did the pest pursue,

That from Dan's limits to Beersheba flew,
Lefs fatal the repeated wars of Tyre,
And lefs Jerufalem's avenging fire.

With gentler terror these our state o'er-ran,
Than fince our evidencing days began!
On every cheek a pale confufion fat,
Continued fear beyond the worst of fate!
Truft was no more, art, fcience, ufelefs made,
All occupations loft but Corah's trade.

Mean while a guard on modest Corah wait,

If not for fafety, needful yet for state.

Well might he deem each peer and prince his flave,
And lord it o'er the tribes which he could fave:

Ev'n vice in him was virtue-what fad 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 grofs,
Had been, alas, to our deponent's lofs :

The travel'd Levite had th' experience got,
To husband well, and make the best of's plot;
And therefore, like an evidence of skill,
With wife referves fecur'd his penfion still;
Not quite of future power himself bereft,
But limbos large for unbelievers left.
And now his writ such reverence had got,
'Twas worse than plotting to fufpect his plot.
Some were fo 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 intereft fake believe and fwear :
Ev'n to that height with fome the frenzy grew,
They rag'd to find their danger not prove true.
Yet, than all these a viler crew remain,
Who with Achitophel the cry maintain ;
Not urg'd by fear, nor through mifguided fenfe,
Blind zeal and starving need had fome pretence,
But for the good old cause that did excite
Th' original rebels wiles, revenge, and spight.
These raise the plot to have the scandal thrown
Upon the bright fucceffor of the crown,
Whofe virtue with fuch wrongs they had pursued,
As feem'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 unobferv'd by each discerning eye,
The more judicious Ifraelites unspell'd,
Though ftill the charm the giddy rabble held,

Ev'n Abfalom amidst the dazzling beams
Of empire, and ambition's flattering dreams,
Perceives the plot, too foul to be excus'd,
To aid defigns, no lefs pernicious, us'd.
And, filial fenfe yet striving in his breast,
Thus to Achitophel his doubts exprest.

Why are my thoughts upon a crown employ'd,
Which once obtain'd can be but half enjoy'd?
Not fo when virtue did my arms require,
And to my father's wars I flew intire.
My regal power how will my foes refent,
When I myself have scarce my own confent!
Give me a fon's unblemish'd truth again,
Or quench the fparks of duty that remain.
How flight to force a throne that legions guard
The task to me; to prove unjust, how hard!
And if th' imagin'd guilt thus wound my thought,
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 undistinguish'd flaughters fling,
Who knows what impious chance may reach the king?

Oh! rather let me perish in the ftrife,

Than have my crown the price of David's life!
Or, if the tempeft of the war he ftand,
In peace, fome vile officious villain's hand
His foul's anointed temple may invade,
Or, preft by clamorous crowds, myself be inade

His murtherer; rebellious crowds, whose guilt
Shall dread his vengeance till his blood be spilt.
Which if my filial tenderness oppose,

Since to the empire by their arms I rose,
Those very arms on me fhall be employ'd,
A new ufurper crown'd, and I destroy'd :
The fame pretence of public good will hold,
And new Achitophels be found as bold
To urge the needful change, perhaps the old.
He faid. The statesman with a smile replies,
A fimile that did his rifing fpleen disguise,
My thoughts prefum'd our labours at an end,
And are we still with confcience 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 paffage you are gone,
And only can be fafe by preffing on.

The crown's true heir, a prince fevere and wife,
Has view'd your motions long with jealous eyes :
Your perfon's charms, your more prevailing arts,
And mark'd your progress in the people's hearts,
Whose patience is th' effect of stinted power,
But treasures vengeance for the fatal hour,
And if remote the peril he can bring,
Your prefent danger's greater from the king.
Let not a parent's name deceive your sense,
Nor truft the father in a jealous prince!
Your trivial faults if he could fo refent,
To doom you little less than banishment,

What

What rage muft your prefumption fince inspire!
Against his orders you return from Tyre.
Nor only fo, but with a pomp more high,
And open court of popularity,

The factious tribes-And this reproof from thee?
The prince replies, O statesman's winding skill!
They firft condemn, that first advis'd the ill!
Illuftrious youth, return'd Achitophel,
Misconstrue not the words that mean you well.
The courfe you steer I worthy blame conclude,
But 'tis because you leave it unpursued.

A monarch's crown with fate furrounded lies,
Who reach, lay hold on death that miss the prize.
Did you for this expose yourself to show,

And to the crowd bow popularly low!

For this your glorious progress next ordain,
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train.
With fame before you like the morning star,
And fhouts of joy faluting from afar ?

Oh from the heights you 've reach'd but take a view,
Scarce leading Lucifer could fall like you!
And must I here my fhipwreck'd arts bemoan?
Have I for this fo oft made Ifrael groan?

Your fingle interest with the nation weigh'd,
And turn'd the fcale where your defires were laid!
Ev'n when at helm a courfe fo dangerous mov'd
To land your hopes as my removal prov'd.
I not difpute, the royal youth replies,
The known perfection of your policies,
Nor in Achitopel yet grudge or blame,
The privilege that statesmen ever claim;

M 4

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