By practis'd rules her empire to secure,
And in my pleasure make my ruin sure.
They gave, and she transferr'd the curs'd advice,
That monarchs should their inward soul disguise,
Dissemble and command, be false and wise;
By ignominious arts, for servile ends,
Should compliment their foes, and shun their
friends.

And now I leave the true and just supports
Of legal princes, and of honest courts,
Barzillai's and the fierce Benaiah's heirs,
Whose sires, 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 counsel!) I prefer
Those whom my follies only made me fear,
Old Corah's blood, and taunting Shimei's race;
Miscreants 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;
Justice submitted to what Abra pleas'd:
Her will alone could settle or revoke,
And law was fix'd by what she latest spoke.
Israel neglected, Abra was my care:

I only acted, thought, and liv'd, for her.
I durst not reason with my wounded heart;
Abra possess'd; she was its better part.
O! had I now review'd the famous cause,
Which gave my righteous youth so just applause,
In vain on the dissembled mother's tongue
Had cunning art and sly persuasion hung,
And real care in vain, and native love,

In the true parent's panting breast had strove ;
While both, deceiv'd, had seen the destin'd child
Or slain or sav'd, as Abra frown'd or smil'd,

Unknowing to command, proud to obey,
A lifeless king, a royal shade, I lay.
Unheard, the injur'd orphans now complain;
The widow's cries address the throne in vain.
Causes unjudg'd disgrace the loaded file,
And sleeping 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 Moses govern'd, and how David fought.
Loose and undisciplin'd the soldier lay,
Or lost in drink and game the solid day.
Porches and schools, design'd for public good,
Uncover'd, and with scaffolds cumber'd stood,
Or nodded, threatening ruin.-

Half pillars wanted their expected height,
And roofs imperfect prejudic'd the sight.
The artists grieve; the labouring people droop:
My father's legacy, my country's hope,
God's temple, lies unfinish'd.-

The wise and great deplor'd their monarch's fate,
And future mischiefs of a sinking state.
"Is this," the serious said, "is this the man,
Whose active soul through every science ran?
Who, by just rule and elevated skill,
Prescrib'd the dubious bounds of good and ill?
Whose golden sayings, and immortal wit,
On large phylacteries expressive writ,
Were to the forehead of the rabbins ty'd,
Our youth's instruction, and our age's pride!
Could not the wise his wild desires restrain?
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 humorous 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 superior to their master's fame." Laughing, some praise the king, who let them see How aptly luxe and empire might agree: Some gloss'd, how love and wisdom were at strife, 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 Wisdom's curse, To Abra yields: could I or thou do worse? Our looser 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 sound the wanton air: Let us the bliss without the sting receive, Free, as we will, or to enjoy, or leave. Pleasures on levity's smooth surface flow: Thought brings the weight that sinks the soul to Now be this maxim to the king convey'd, And added to the thousand he has made." "Sadly, O Reason! is thy power express'd, Thou 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, Forsakes his joy, to vindicate his pride, And, changing sorrows, I am only found Loos'd from the chains of Love, in thine more strictly bound!

[woc

"But do I call thee tyrant, or complain
How hard thy laws, how absolute thy reign?
While thou, alas! art but an empty name,
To no two men, who e'er discours'd, the same;
The idle product of a troubled thought,
In borrow'd shapes 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 essence bring,
I own thy influence, for I feel thy sting.
Reluctant I perceive thee in my soul,
Form'd to command, and destin'd to control.
Yes; thy insulting dictates shall be heard;
Virtue for once shall be her own reward:
Yes; rebel Israel! this unhappy maid
Shall be dismiss'd: the crowd shall be obey'd:
The king his passion and his rule shall leave,
No longer Abra's, but the people's slave.
My coward soul shall bear its wayward fate;
I will, alas! be wretched to be great,
And sigh in royalty, and grieve in state."
I said: resolv'd to plunge into my grief
At once so far, as to expect relief
From my despair alone→→

I chose to write the thing I durst not speak
To her I lov'd, to her I must forsake.
The harsh epistle labour'd much to prove
How inconsistent majesty and love.

I always should, it said, esteem her well,
But never see 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 she wildly ran,
To me, the ease of all her former pain.

She kneel'd, entreated, struggled, threaten'd, cry'd,
And with alternate passion 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 some few posting fatal hours, is hurl'd

From wealth, from power, from love, and from the world.

"Here tell me, if thou dar'st, my conscious soul, What different sorrows did within thee roll? What pangs, what fires, what racks, didst thou sustain ?

What sad vicissitudes of smarting 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 press'd, and panting in my arms?
How oft, with sighs, view'd ev'ry female face,
Where mimic fancy might her likeness trace?
How oft desir'd to fly from Israel's throne,
And live in shades 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 rising Sun,
And fondly mourn'd the dear delusion gone?"

When thus the gather'd storms of wretched love
In my swoln bosom, with long war had strove;
At length they broke their bounds; at length their
force

Bore down whatever met its stronger course,
Laid all the civil bonds of manhood waste,
And scatter'd ruin as the torrent past.
So from the hills, whose hollow caves contain
The congregated snow and swelling rain,
Till the full stores their ancient bounds disdain,
Precipitate the furious torrent flows:

In vain would speed avoid, or strength oppose;
Towns, forests, herds, and men, promiscuous
drown'd,

With one great death deform the dreary ground:
The echoed woes from distant rocks resound.
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 sad retreats of ill;
How Judah's daughters now, now foreign slaves,
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 lust,
Enjoy'd, disdain'd, was grateful, or unjust:
O be these scenes from human eyes conceal'd,
In clouds of decent silence justly veil'd!
O! be the wanton images convey'd

To black oblivion and eternal shade!

Or let their sad epitome alone,

And outward lines, to future age be known,
Enough to propagate the sure belief,

That vice engenders shame, and folly broods o'er
Bury'd in sloth, and lost in ease, I lay; [grief!
The night I revell'd, and I slept the day.
New heaps of fuel damp'd my kindling fires,
And daily change extinguish'd young desires.
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
Its wonted stores and old ideas find.
Fix'd Judgment there no longer does abide,
To take the true, or set the false aside.

No longer does swift Memory trace the cells,
Where springing Wit, or young Invention, dwells.
Frequent debauch to habitude prevails;
Patience of toil, and love of virtue, fails.
By sad degrees impair'd, my vigour dies,
Till I command no longer ev'n in vice.

The women on my dotage build their sway;
They ask, I grant; they threaten, I obey.
In regal garments now I gravely stride,
Aw'd by the Persian damsel's haughty pride:
Now with the looser Syrian dance and sing,
In robes tuck'd up, opprobrious to the king.
Charm'd by their eyes, their manners I acquire,
And shape my foolishness to their desire ;
Seduc'd and aw'd 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 maximns of eternal truth,
With which the living God inform'd my youth,
When with the lewd Egyptian I adore
Vain idols, deities that ne'er before
In Israel's land had fix'd 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 carv'd the marble, and invok'd 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 leck, to which I pray'd;
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 thro' the cloud, and promis'd day.
And now, one moment able to reflect,

1 found the king abandon'd to neglect,
Seen without awe, and serv'd without respect.

I found my subjects amicably join

To lessen their defects by citing mine.
The priest with pity pray'd for David's race,
And left his text, to dwell on my disgrace.
The father, whilst he warn'd his erring son
The sad examples which he ought to shun,
Describ'd, and only nam'd not, Solomon.
Each bard, each sire, did to his pupil sing,

A wise child better than a foolish king."
Into myself my Reason's cye I turn'd,
And as I much reflected, much I mourn'd.
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:
Aud he, from whom the nations should receive
Justice and freedom, lies himself a slave,
Tortur'd by cruel change of wild desires,
Lash'd by iad rage, and scorch'd by brutal fires.
"O Reason! once again to thee I call;
Accept my sorrow, and retrieve my fall,

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;
And thence with liberty unbounded flies,
Impatient to regain her native skies?

Whate'er thou art, where-e'er ordain'd to go,
(Points which we rather may dispute than know)
Come on, thou little inmate of this breast,
Which for thy sake from passions I divest,
For these, thou say'st, raise all the stormy strife,
Which hinder thy repose, and trouble life.
Be the fair level of thy actions laid,

As temperance wills, and prudence may persuade:
Be thy affections undisturb'd and clear,
Guided to what may great or good appear,
And try if life be worth the liver's care.

Amass'd in man, there justly is beheld
What through the whole creation has excell'd :
The life and growth of plants, of beasts the sense,
The angel's forecast and intelligence:
Say from these glorious seeds what harvest flows,
Recount our blessings, and compare our woes.
In its true light let clearest reason see
The man dragg'd out to act, and forc'd to be;
Helpless and naked, on a woman's knees
To be expos'd and rear'd as she may please,
Feel her neglect, and pine from her disease:
His tender eye by too direct a ray
Wounded, and flying from unpractis'd day;
His heart assaulted by invading air,
And beating fervent to the vital war;
To his young sense how various forms appear,
That strike his wonder, and excite his fear:
By his distortions he reveals his pains;
He by his tears and by his sighs complains;
Till time and use assist the infant wretch,
By broken words and rudiments of speech,
His wants in plainer characters to show,
And paint more perfect figures of his woe;
Condemn'd to sacrifice his childish years
To babbling ignorance, and to empty fears;
To pass the riper period of his age,
Acting his part upon a crowded stage,
To lasting toils expos'd, and endless cares,
To open dangers, and to secret snares;
To malice, which the vengeful foe intends,
And the more dangerous love of seeming friends.
His deeds examin'd by the people's will,
Prone to forget the good, and blame the ill;
Or sadly censur'd in their curs'd debate,
Who in the scorner's or the judge's seat,
Dare to condemn the virtue which they hate.
Or, would he rather leave this frantic scene,
And trees and beasts prefer to courts and men,
In the remotest wood and lonely grot
Certain to meet that worst of evils, Thought;
Different ideas to his memory brought,
Some intricate as are the pathless woods,
Impetuous some as the descending floods;
With anxious doubts, with raging passions torn,
No sweet companion near, with whom to mourn,
He hears the echoing rock return his sighs,
And from himself the frighted hermit flies.

Thus, through what path soe'er of life we rove, Rage companies our hate, and grief our love. Vex'd with the present moment's heavy gloom, Why seek we brightness from the years to come? Disturb'd and broken like a sick man's sleep, Our troubled thoughts to distant prospects leap, Desirous still what flies us to o'ertake, For hope is but the dream of those that wake : But, looking back, we see the dreadful train Of woes anew, which were we to sustain, We should refuse to tread the path again; Still adding grief, still counting from the first, Judging the latest evils still the worst, And sadly finding each progressive hour Heighten their number and augment their power. Till, by one countless sum of woes opprest, Hoary with cares, and ignorant of rest, We find the vital springs relax'd and worn, Compell'd our common impotence to mourn. Thus through the round of age to childhood we

return;

Reflecting find, that naked from the womb
We yesterday came forth; that in the tomb
Naked again we must to morrow lie,

Born to lament, to labour, and to die.

Pass we the ills which each man feels or dreads,
The weight or fallen or hanging o'er our heads;
The bear, the lion, terrours of the plain,
The sheepfold scatter'd, and the shepherd slain;
The frequent errours of the pathless wood,
The giddy precipice, and the dangerous flood;
The noisome pestilence, that, in open war,
Terrible marches through the mid-day air,
And scatters death; the arrow that by night
Cuts the dank mist, and fatal wings its flight;
The billowing snow, and violence of the shower,
That from the hills disperse their dreadful store,
And o'er the vales collected ruin pour ;

The worm that gnaws the ripening fruit, sad guest,
Canker or locust, hurtful to infest
The blade; while husks elude the tiller's care,
And eminence of want distinguishes the year.

Pass we the slow disease, and subtle pain,
Which our weak frame is destin'd to sustain;
The cruel stone with congregated war
Tearing his bloody way; the cold catarrh,
With frequent impulse, and continued strife,
Weakening the wasted seats of irksome life;
The gout's fierce rack, the burning fever's rage,
The sad experience of decay; and age,
Herself the sorest ill; while Death and ease,
Oft' and in vain invok'd or to appease
Or end the grief, with hasty wings recede
From the vext patient and the sickly bed.
Nought shall it profit, that the charming fair,
Angelic, softest work of Heaven, draws near
To the cold shaking paralytic hand,
Senseless of beauty's touch, or love's command;
Nor longer apt or able to fulfil

The dictates of its feeble master's will.
Nought shall the psaltry and the harp avail,
The pleasing song, or well-repeated tale,
When the quick spirits their warm march forbear,
And numbing coldness has unbrac'd the ear.

The verdant rising of the flowery hill,
The vale enamell'd, and the crystal rill,
The ocean rolling, and the shelly shore,
Beautiful objects, shall delight no more,
When the lax'd sinews of the weaken'd eye
In watery damps or dim suffusion lie.