In pious times,
ere priestcraft did begin, |
Before polygamy
was made a sin; |
When man on many
multiplied his kind, |
Ere one to one was
cursedly confined; |
When nature
prompted, and no law denied |
Promiscuous use of
concubine and bride; |
Then Israel’s
monarch after heaven’s own heart, |
His vigorous
warmth did variously impart |
To wives and
slaves; and, wide as his command, |
Scattered his
maker’s image through the land |
Michal, of royal
blood, the crown did wear; |
A soil ungrateful
to the tiller’s care: |
Not so the rest;
for several mothers bore |
To godlike David
several sons before. |
But since like
slaves his bed they did ascend, |
No true succession
could their seed attend. |
Of all this
numerous progeny was none |
So beautiful, so
brave, as Abaslom: |
Whether, inspired
by some diviner lust, |
His father got him
with a greater gust; |
Or that his
conscious destiny made way, |
By manly beauty,
to imperial sway. |
Early in foreign
fields he won renown, |
With kings and
states allied to Israel’s crown: |
In peace the
thoughts of war he could remove, |
And seemed as he
were only born for love. |
Whate’er he did
was done with so much ease, |
In him alone ’twas
natural to please: |
His motions all
accompanied with grace; |
And paradise was
opened in his face. |
With secret joy
indulgent David viewed |
His youthful image
in his son renewed: |
To all his wishes
nothing he denied, |
And made the
charming Annabel his bride. |
What faults he had
(for who from faults is free?) |
His father could
not, or he would not see. |
Some warm excesses
which the law forbore, |
Were construed
youth that purged by boiling o’er, |
And Amnon’s
murder, by a specious name, |
Was called a just
revenge for injured fame. |
Thus praised and
loved the noble youth remained, |
While David,
undisturbed, in Sion reigned. |
But life can never
be sincerely blest; |
Heaven punishes
the bad, and proves the best. |
The Jews, a
headstrong, moody, murmuring race, |
As ever tried the
extent and stretch of grace; |
God’s pampered
people, whom, debauched with ease, |
No king could
govern, nor no God could please |
(Gods they had
tried of every shape and size, |
That god-smiths
could produce, or priests devise); |
These Adam-wits,
too fortunately free, |
Began to dream
they wanted liberty; |
And when no rule,
no precedent was found, |
Of men by laws
less circumscribed and bound, |
They led their
wild desires to woods and caves, |
And thought that
all but savages were slaves. |
They who, when
Saul was dead, without a blow, |
Made foolish
Ishbosheth the crown forgo; |
Who banished David
did from Hebron bring, |
And with a general
shout proclaimed his king: |
Those very Jews,
who, at their very best, |
Their humour more
than loyalty expressed, |
Now wondered why
so long they had obeyed |
An idol monarch,
which their hands had made; |
Thought they might
ruin him they could create, |
Or melt him to
that golden calf, a state. |
But these were
random bolts; no formed design, |
Nor interest made
the factious crowd to join: |
The sober part of
Israel, free from stain, |
Well knew the
value of a peaceful reign, |
And, looking
backward with a wise affright, |
Saw seams of
wounds, dishonest to the sight: |
In contemplation
of whose ugly scars |
They cursed the
memory of civil wars. |
The moderate sort
of men, thus qualified, |
Inclined the
balance to the better side; |
And David’s
mildness managed it so well, |
The bad found no
occasion to rebel. |
But when to sin
our biased nature leans, |
The careful devil
is still at hand with means; |
And providently
pimps for ill desires. |
The Good Old Cause
revived, a plot requires: |
Plots, true or
false, are necessary things, |
To raise up
commonwealths, and ruin kings. |
The inhabitants of Old Jerusalem |
Were Jebusites,
the town so called from them; |
And theirs the
natives right— |
But when the
chosen people grew more strong, |
The rightful cause
at length became the wrong; |
And every loss the
men of Jebus bore, |
They still were
thought God’s enemies the more. |
Thus worn and
weakened, well or ill content, |
Submit they must
to David’s government: |
Impoverished and
deprived of all command, |
Their taxes
doubled as they lost their land; |
And what was
harder yet to flesh and blood, |
Their gods
disgraced, and burnt like a common wood. |
This set the
heathen priesthood in a flame; |
For priests of all
religions are the same: |
Of whatsoe’er
descent their godhead be, |
Stock, stone, or
other homely pedigree, |
In his defence his
servants are as bold, |
As if he had been
born of beaten gold. |
The Jewish rabbins,
though their enemies, |
In this conclude
them honest men and wise: |
For ’twas their
duty, all the learned think, |
To espouse his
cause, by whom they eat and drink. |
From hence began
that Plot, the nation’s curse, |
Bad in itself, but
represented worse; |
Raised in
extremes, and in extremes decried; |
With oaths
affirmed, with dying vows denied. |
Not weighed or
winnowed by the multitude; |
But swallowed in
the mass, unchewed and crude. |
Some truth there
was, but dashed and brewed with lies, |
To please the
fools, and puzzle all the wise. |
Succeeding times
did equal folly call, |
Believing nothing,
or believing all. |
The Egyptian rites
the Jebusites embraced; |
Where gods were
recommended by their taste. |
Such savoury
deities must needs be good, |
As served at once
for worship and for food. |
By force they
could not introduce these gods, |
For ten to one in
former days was odds; |
So fraud was used
(the sacrificer’s trade): |
Fools are more
hard to conquer than persuade. |
Their busy
teachers mingled with the Jews, |
And raked for
converts even the court and stews: |
Which Hebrew
priests the more unkindly took, |
Because the fleece
accompanies the flock. |
Some thought they
God’s anointed meant to slay |
By guns, invented
since full many a day: |
Our author swears
it not; but who can know |
How far the Devil
and Jebusites may go? |
This Plot, which
failed for want of common sense, |
Had yet a deep and
dangerous consequence: |
For, as when
raging fevers boil the blood, |
The standing lake
soon floats into a flood, |
And every hostile
humour, which before |
Slept quiet in its
channels, bubbles o’er; |
So several
factions from this first ferment |
Work up to foam,
and threat the government. |
Some by their
friends, more by themselves thought wise, |
Opposed the power
to which they could not rise. |
Some had in courts
been great, and thrown from thence, |
Like fiends were
hardened in impenitence.
|
John Dryden
| Classic Poems |
|
[ A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687 ] [ from Absalom and Achitophel ] [ London After the Great Fire, 1666 ] [ To the Memory of Mr Oldham ] [ Macflecknoe ] |