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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 fon!
Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care,
Rais'd

up to all the height his frame could bear!
Had God 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 Abfalom's than David's cause?
His old instructor ere he lost his place,
Was never thought indu'd 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 fanhedrims 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 chuse, Infers a right the present to depose. True, they petition 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 petitioners.
Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave;
God cannot grant so much as they can crave.
What then is left, but with a jealous eye
To guard the small remains of royalty ?
The law shall still direct my peaceful sway,
And the same law teach rebels to obey :
Votes shall no more establish'd power controul,
Such votes as make a part exceed the whole.
No groundless clamors shall

my

friends remove, Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove ; For Gods and god-like kings their care express, Still to defend their servants in distress. Oh, that my power to saving were confin'd! Why am I fore’d, like heaven, against my mind, To make examples of another kind ? Must I at length the sword of justice draw ? Oh curft 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 shew 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,
Those dire artificers of death shall bleed.
Against themselves their witnesses will swear,
"Till viper-like their mother plot they tear ;
And fuck for nutriment that bloody 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 th’event : for factious crowds engage,
In their first onset, all their brutal rage.
Then let 'em take an unrefifted course:
Retire, and traverse, and delude their force :
But when they stand all breathlefs, urge the fight,
And rise upon them with redoubled might:
For lawful

power

is still superior found; When long driv’n back at length it stands the

ground. He said : Th’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 god-like David was restor’d, And willing nations knew their lawful lord.

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R E A D E R.

IN

N the year 1680 Mr. Dryden undertook the

poem of Abfalom 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 to write

gave

him his advice in the direction of it; and that part beginning with

one, and

“ Next these, a troop of busy spirits press,”

and ending with

“ To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee."

containing near two hundred verses, were intirely Mr. Dryden's compositions, besides fome touches in cther places.

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