The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume I Part 16
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Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, And kings are only officers in trust, Then this resuming covenant was declared When kings were made, or is for ever barr'd.
If those who gave the sceptre could not tie, By their own deed, their own posterity, 770 How then could Adam bind his future race?
How could his forfeit on mankind take place?
Or how could heavenly justice d.a.m.n us all, Who ne'er consented to our father's fall?
Then kings are slaves to those whom they command, And tenants to their people's pleasure stand.
Add, that the power for property allow'd Is mischievously seated in the crowd; For who can be secure of private right, If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? 780 Nor is the people's judgment always true: The most may err as grossly as the few?
And faultless kings run down by common cry, For vice, oppression, and for tyranny.
What standard is there in a fickle rout, Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out?
Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be Infected with this public lunacy, And share the madness of rebellious times, To murder monarchs for imagined crimes. 790 If they may give and take whene'er they please, Not kings alone, the G.o.dhead's images, But government itself at length must fall To nature's state, where all have right to all.
Yet, grant our lords the people kings can make, What prudent men a settled throne would shake?
For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before, That change they covet makes them suffer more.
All other errors but disturb a state; But innovation is the blow of fate. 800 If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, To patch their flaws, and b.u.t.tress up the wall, Thus far 'tis duty: but here fix the mark; For all beyond it is to touch the ark.
To change foundations, cast the frame anew, Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; At once divine and human laws control, And mend the parts by ruin of the whole, The tampering world is subject to this curse, To physic their disease into a worse. 810
Now what relief can righteous David bring?
How fatal 'tis to be too good a king!
Friends he has few, so high the madness grows; Who dare be such must be the people's foes.
Yet some there were, even in the worst of days; Some let me name, and naming is to praise.
In this short file Barzillai first appears; Barzillai, crown'd with honour and with years.
Long since, the rising rebels he withstood In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood: 820 Unfortunately brave to buoy the state; But sinking underneath his master's fate: In exile with his G.o.dlike prince he mourn'd; For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd.
The court he practised, not the courtier's art: Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart, Which well the n.o.blest objects knew to choose, The fighting warrior, and recording muse.
His bed could once a fruitful issue boast; Now more than half a father's name is lost. 830 His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd, By me, so Heaven will have it, always mourn'd, And always honour'd, s.n.a.t.c.h'd in manhood's prime By unequal fates, and providence's crime: Yet not before the goal of honour won, All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son: Swift was the race, but short the time to run.
O narrow circle, but of power divine, Scanted in s.p.a.ce, but perfect in thy line!
By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, 840 Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own: Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians propp'd; And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd.
O ancient honour! O unconquer'd hand, Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand!
But Israel was unworthy of his name; Short is the date of all immoderate fame.
It looks as Heaven our ruin had design'd, And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind.
Now, free from earth, thy disenc.u.mber'd soul 850 Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and starry pole: From thence thy kindred legions mayst thou bring, To aid the guardian angel of thy king.
Here stop, my muse, here cease thy painful flight: No pinions can pursue immortal height: Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, And tell thy soul she should have fled before: Or fled she with his life, and left this verse To hang on her departed patron's hea.r.s.e?
Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see 860 If thou canst find on earth another he: Another he would be too hard to find; See then whom thou canst see not far behind.
Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, His lowly mind advanced to David's grace.
With him the Sagan of Jerusalem, Of hospitable soul, and n.o.ble stem; Him[71] of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
The prophets' sons, by such example led, 870 To learning and to loyalty were bred: For colleges on bounteous kings depend, And never rebel was to arts a friend.
To these succeed the pillars of the laws, Who best can plead, and best can judge a cause.
Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' friend, Himself a Muse: in Sanhedrim's debate True to his prince, but not a slave of state: Whom David's love with honours did adorn, 880 That from his disobedient son were torn.
Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought; Endued by nature, and by learning taught To move a.s.semblies, who but only tried The worse awhile, then chose the better side: Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too,-- So much the weight of one brave man can do.
Hushai, the friend of David in distress; In public storms of manly steadfastness: By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, 890 And join'd experience to his native truth.
His frugal care supplied the wanting throne-- Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow; But hard the task to manage well the low; For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, When kings are forced to sell, or crowds to buy.
Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, For Amiel: who can Amiel's praise refuse?
Of ancient race by birth, but n.o.bler yet 900 In his own worth, and without t.i.tle great: The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled, Their reason guided, and their pa.s.sion cool'd: So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, So fit was he to represent them all.
Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: They, like the unequal ruler of the day,[72] 910 Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; While he withdrawn, at their mad labours smiles, And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils.
These were the chief, a small but faithful band Of worthies, in the breach who dared to stand, And tempt the united fury of the land: With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, To batter down the lawful government.
A numerous faction, with pretended frights, In Sanhedrims to plume the regal rights; 920 The true successor from the court removed; The plot, by hireling witnesses, improved.
These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, They show'd the King the danger of the wound; That no concessions from the throne would please, But lenitives fomented the disease: That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, Was made the lure to draw the people down: That false Achitophel's pernicious hate Had turn'd the Plot to ruin church and state: 930 The council violent, the rabble worse: That s.h.i.+mei taught Jerusalem to curse.
With all these loads of injuries oppress'd, And long revolving in his careful breast The event of things, at last his patience tired, Thus, from his royal throne, by Heaven inspired, The G.o.d-like David spoke; with awful fear, His train their Maker in their master hear.
Thus long have I, by native mercy sway'd, My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd: 940 So willing to forgive the offending age; So much the father did the king a.s.suage.
But now so far my clemency they slight, The offenders question my forgiving right: That one was made for many, they contend; But 'tis to rule; for that's a monarch's end.
They call my tenderness of blood, my fear: Though manly tempers can the longest bear.
Yet, since they will divert my native course, 'Tis time to show I am not good by force. 950 Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, Are burdens for a camel, not a king.
Kings are the public pillars of the state, Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight: If my young Samson will pretend a call To shake the column, let him share the fall: But oh, that yet he would repent and live!
How easy 'tis for parents to forgive!
With how few tears a pardon might be won From nature, pleading for a darling son! 960 Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care, Raised up to all the height his frame could bear!
Had G.o.d ordain'd his fate for empire born, He would have given his soul another turn: Gull'd with a patriot's name, whose modern sense Is one that would by law supplant his prince; The people's brave, the politician's tool; Never was patriot yet, but was a fool.
Whence comes it, that religion and the laws Should more be Absalom's than David's cause? 970 His old instructor, ere he lost his place, Was never thought endued with so much grace.
Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint!
My rebel ever proves my people's saint.
Would they impose an heir upon the throne, Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own.
A king's at least a part of government; And mine as requisite as their consent: Without my leave a future king to choose, Infers a right the present to depose. 980 True, they pet.i.tion me to approve their choice: But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice.
My pious subjects for my safety pray, Which to secure, they take my power away.
From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my pet.i.tioners!
Insatiate as the barren womb or grave, G.o.d cannot grant so much as they can crave.
What then is left, but with a jealous eye To guard the small remains of royalty? 990 The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, And the same law teach rebels to obey: Votes shall no more establish'd power control, Such votes as make a part exceed the whole.
No groundless clamours shall my friends remove, Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove; For G.o.ds and G.o.d-like kings their care express, Still to defend their servants in distress.
O that my power to saving were confined!
Why am I forced, like Heaven, against my mind; 1000 To make examples of another kind?
Must I at length the sword of justice draw?
Oh, cursed effects of necessary law!
How ill my fear they by my mercy scan!
Beware the fury of a patient man!
Law they require, let law then show her face; They could not be content to look on grace, Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye To tempt the terror of her front and die.
By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, 1010 Those dire artificers of death shall bleed.
Against themselves their witnesses will swear, Till, viper-like, their mother-plot they tear; And suck for nutriment that b.l.o.o.d.y gore, Which was their principle of life before.
Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight: Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right.
Nor doubt the event: for factious crowds engage, In their first onset, all their brutal rage.
Then let them take an unresisted course; 1020 Retire, and traverse, and delude their force; But when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, And rise upon them with redoubled might-- For lawful power is still superior found; When long driven back, at length it stands the ground.
He said: The Almighty, nodding, gave consent; And peals of thunder shook the firmament.
Henceforth a series of new time began, The mighty years in long procession ran: Once more the G.o.d-like David was restored, 1030 And willing nations knew their lawful lord.
PART II.
"Si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis captus amore leget."
TO THE READER.
In the year 1680, Mr Dryden undertook the poem of Absalom and Achitophel, upon the desire of King Charles the Second. The performance was applauded by every one; and several persons pressing him to write a second part, he, upon declining it himself, spoke to Mr Tate[73] to write one, and gave him his advice in the direction of it; and that part beginning with
"Next these, a troop of busy spirits press,"
and ending with
"To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee,"
The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume I Part 16
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