From the due place and office first ordain'd;

By thee were all things made, and are sustain'd. Sometimes we see thee fully, and can say

Such sacred love does Heaven's bright spirits

fill,

Where love is but to understand and will

way;

But oftener the short beams of Reason's eye
See only there thou art, not how, nor why.
How is the loadstone, Nature's subtile pride,
By the rude iron woo'd, and made a bride?
How was the weapon wounded? what hid flame
The strong and conquering metal overcame ?
Love (this world's grace) exalts his natural state;
He feels thee, Love! and feels no more his
weight.

Ye learned heads, whom ivy garlands grace,
Why does that twining plant the oak embrace?
The oak, for courtship most of all unfit,
And rough as are the winds that fight with it?
How does the absent pole the needle move?
How does his cold and ice beget hot love?
Which are the wings of lightness to ascend?
Or why does weight to th' centre downwards
bend?

Thus creatures void of life obey thy laws,
And seldom we, they never, know the cause.
In thy large state, life gives the next degree,
Where Sense, and Good Apparent, places thee;
But thy chief palace is man's heart alone,
Here are thy triumphs and full glories shown;
Handsome Desires, and Rest about thee flee,
Union, Inherance, Zeal, and Extacy,
With thousand joys cluster around thine head,
O'er which a gall-less dove her wings does
A gentle lamb, purer and whiter far [spread;
Than consciences of thine own martyrs are,
Lies at thy feet; and thy right hand does hold
The mystic sceptre of a cross of gold.
Thus dost thou sit (like men ere sin had fram'd
A guilty blush) naked but not asham'd.
What cause then did the fabulous ancients find,
When first their superstition made thee blind?
'Twas they, alas! 'twas they who could not see,
When they mistook that monster, Lust, for thee.
Thou art a bright, but not consuming flame;
Such in th' amazed bush to Moses came; [rear,
When that, secure, its new-crown'd head did
And chid the trembling branches' needless fear.
Thy darts are healthful gold, and downwards
fall

Soft as the feathers that they 're fletch'd withall.
Such, and no other, were those secret darts,
Which sweetly touch'd this noblest pair of hearts;
Still to one end they both so justly drew,
As courteous doves together yok'd would do:
No weight of birth did on one side prevail,
Two twins less even lie in Nature's scale;
They mingled fates, and both in each did
share,

They both were servants, they both princes were.
If any joy to one of them was sent,

It was most his, to whom it least was meant;
And Fortune's malice betwixt both was crost,
For, striking one, it wounded th' other most.
Never did marriage such true union find,
Or men's desires with so glad violence bind,
For there is still some tincture left of sin,
And still the sex will needs be stealing-in.
Those joys are full of dross, and thicker far;
These, without matter, clear and liquid are.

Somewhat express in heighten'd charity.

O ye blest One! whose love on Earth became
So pure, that still in Heaven 'tis but the same!
There now ye sit, and with mixt souls embrace,
Gazing upon great Love's mysterious face;
And pity this base world, where friendship's made
A bait for sin, or else at best a trade.
Ah, wondrous prince! who a true friend could'st
be,

When a crown flatter'd, and Saul threaten'd thee! Who held'st him dear, whose stars thy birth did cross!

And bought'st him nobly at a kingdom's loss! Israel's bright sceptre far less glory brings; There have been fewer friends on Earth than kings.

To this strange pitch their high affections flew, Till Nature's self scarce look'd on them as two. Hither flies David for advice and aid,

As swift as love and danger could persuade :
As safe in Jonathan's trust his thoughts remain,
As when himself but dreams them o'er again.

"My dearest lord, farewell!" said he, "fare well!

Heaven bless the king! may no misfortune tell Th' injustice of his hate when I am dead! They're coming now; perhaps my guiltless

head

Here in your sight, must then a-bleeding lie,
And scarce your own stand safe for being nigh.
Think me not scar'd with Death, howe'er 't ap-

pear;

I know thou canst not think so: 'tis a fear
From which thy love and Dammin speaks me
free;

I'ave met him face to face, and ne'er could see
One terrour in his looks to make me fly
When Virtue bids me stand; but I would die
So as becomes my life, so as inay prove
Saul's malice, and at least excuse your love."

He stopt and spoke some passion with his eyes: "Excellent friend!" the gallant prince replies, "Thou hast so prov'd thy virtues, that they're known

To all good men, more than to each his own.
Who lives in Israel that can doubtful be
Of thy great actions? for he lives by thee.
Such is thy valour, and thy vast success,
That all things but thy loyalty are less.
And should my father at thy ruin aim,
'Twould wound as much his safety as his fame:
Think them not coming, then, to slay thee here,
But doubt mishaps, as little as you fear;
For, by thy loving God, whoe'er design
Against thy life, must strike at it through mine.
But I my royal father must acquit
From such base guilt, or the low thought of it.
Think on his softness when from death he freed
The faithless king of Amalek's cursed seed;
Can he t'a friend, t' a son, so bloody grow,
He who ev'n sinn'd but now to spare a foe?
Admit he could; but with what strength or art
Could he so long close and seal up his heart?
Such counsels jealous of themselves become,
And dare not fix without consent of some;

Few men so boldly ill, great sins to do,
Till licens'd and approv'd by others too.
No more (believe 't) could he hide this from me,
Than 1, had he discover'd it, from thee."

Here they embraces join, and almost tears; Till gentle David thus new prov'd his fears; "The praise you pleas'd (great prince!) on me to spend,

Was all out spoken when you styl'd me friend;
That name alone does dangerous glories bring,
And gives excuse to th' envy of a king.
What did his spear, force, and dark plots, im-
But some eternal rancour in his heart? [part,
Still does he glance the fortune of that day
When, drown'd in his own blood, Goliah lay,
And cover'd half the plain; still hears the sound
How that vast monster fell, and struck the ground:
The dance, and David his ten thousand slew,'
Still wound his sickly soul, and still are new.
Great acts, t'ambitious princes, treasons grow,
So much they hate that safety which they owe.
Tyrants dread all whom they raise high in place,
From the good, danger: from the bad, disgrace:
They doubt the lords, mistrust the people's hate,
Till blood become a principle of state:

Secur❜d nor by their guards, nor by their right,
But still they fear ev'n more than they affright.
Pardon me, sir! your father's rough and stern;
His will too strong to bend, too proud to learn:
Remember, sir! the honey's deadly sting;
Think on that savage justice of the king;
When the same day that saw you do before
Things above man, should see you man no more.
'Tis true th' accursed Agag mov'd his ruth,
He pitied his tall limbs and comely youth:
Had seen, alas! the proof of Heaven's fierce
hate,

And fear'd no mischief from his powerless fate :
Remember how th' old seer came raging down,
And taught him boldly to suspect his crown;
Since then, his pride quakes at th' Almighty's
rod,

Nor dares he love the man belov'd by God,
Hence his deep rage and trembling envy springs;
(Nothing so wild as jealousy of kings!)
Whom should he council ask, with whom advise,
Who reason and God's council does despise?
Whose headstrong will no law or conscience daunt,
Dares he not sin, do you think, without your
grant ?

Yes, if the truth of our fix'd love he knew,
He would not doubt, believe 't, to kill ev'n you."
The prince is inov'd, and straight prepares to
find

The deep resolves of his griev'd father's mind:
The danger now appears, love can soon show 't,
And force his stubborn piety to know 't.
The' agree that David should conceal'd abide,
Till his great friend had the court's temper try'd;
Till he had Saul's most secret purpose found,
And search'd the depth and rancour of his wound.
'Twas the year's seventh-born Moon, the so-
lemn feast

That with most noise its sacred mirth express'd.
From opening morn till night shuts in the day,
Co trumpets and shrill horns the Levites play.
Whether by this in mystic type we see
The New-year's-day of great eternity, [make,
When the chang'd Moon shall no more changes
And scatter'd deaths by trumpets' sound awake;

Or that the law be kept in memory still,
Given with like noise on Sinai's shining hill,
Or that (as some men teach) it did arise
From faithful Abram's righteous sacrifice,
Who, whilst the ram on Isaac's fire did fry,
His horn with joyful tunes stood sounding by.
Obscure the cause; but God his will declar'd,
And all nice knowledge then with ease is spar'd.
At the third hour Saul to the hallow'd tent,
'Midst a large train of priests and courtiers, went;
The sacred herd march'd proud and softly by ;
Too fat and gay to think their deaths so nigh.
Hard fate of beasts, more innocent than we!
Prey to our luxury, and our piety!
Whose guiltless blood, on boards and altars spilt,
Serves both to make, and expiate too, our guilt!
Three bullocks of free neck, two gilded rams,
Two well-wash'd goats, and fourteen spotless
lambs,

With the three vital fruits, wine, oil, and bread, (Small fees to Heaven of all by which we 're fed! Are offer'd up; the hallow'd flames arise, [skies. And faithful prayers mount with them to the From hence the king to th' outmost court is brought,

Where heavenly things an inspir'd prophet taught,
And from the sacred tent to his palace-gates,
With glad kind shouts th' assembly on him waits;
The chearful horns before him loudly play,
And fresh-strew'd flow'rs paint his triumphant

way.

Thus in slow state to th' palace-hall they go,
Rich drest for solemn luxury and show:
Ten picces of bright tap'stry hung the room,
The noblest work e'er stretch'd on Syrian loom,
For wealthy Adriel in proud Sidon wrought,
And given to Saul when Saul's best gift he sought,
The bright-ey'd Merab; for that mindful day
No ornament so proper seem'd as they.

There all old Abram's story you might see;
And still some angel bore him company.
His painful, but well-guided, travels show
The fate of all his sons, the church below.
Here beauteous Sarah to great Pharaoh came,
He blush'd with sudden passion, she with shame;
Troubled she seem'd, and labouring in the strife
'Twixt her own honour and her husband's life.
Here on a conquering host, that careless lay,
Drown'd in the joys of their new-gotten prey,
The patriarch falls; well-mingled might you see
The confus'd marks of death and luxury.
In the next piece, blest Salem's mystic king
Does sacred presents to the victor bring;
Like him whose type he bears, his rights re
ceives;

Strictly requires his due, yet freely gives;
Ev'n in his port, his habit and his face, [place.
The mild and great, the priest and prince, had
Here all their starry host the heavens display;
And lo! an heavenly youth, more fair than they,
Leads Abram forth; points upwards: "Such,"

said he,

"So bright and numberless, thy seed shall be."
Here he with God a new alliance makes,
And in his flesh the marks of homage takes:
And here he three mysterious persons feasts,
Well paid with joyful tidings by his guests:
Here for the wicked town he prays, and near
Scarce did the wicked town through flames ap
pear;

And all his fate, and all his deeds, were wrought, |
Since he from Ur to Ephron's cave was brought.
But none 'mongst all the forms drew then their
Like faithful Abram's righteous sacrifice: [eyes
The sad old man mounts slowly to the place,
With Nature's power triumphant in his face
O'er the mind's courage; for, in spite of all,
From his swoln eyes resistless waters fall.
The innocent boy his cruel burthen bore
With smiling looks, and sometimes walk'd before,
And some times turn'd to talk; above was made
The altar's fatal pile, and on it laid
The hope of mankind; patiently he lay,
And did his sire, as he his God, obey.
The mournful sire lifts up at last the knife,
And on one moment's string depends his life,
In whose young loins such brooding wonders lie.
A thousand spirits peep'd from th' affrighted
sky,

Amaz'd at this strange scene; and almost fear'd
For all those joyful prophecies they'd heard;
Till one leap'd nimbly forth, by God's command,
Like lightning from a cloud, and stopp'd his
hand.

[set.

The gentle spirit smil'd kindly as he spoke,
New beams of joy through Abram's wonder broke,
The angel points t'a tuft of bushes near,
Where an entangled ram does half appear,
And struggles vainly with that fatal net,
Which, though but slightly wrought, was firmly
For, lo! anon, to this sad glory doom'd,
The useful beast on Isaac's pile consum'd;
Whilst on his horns the ransom'd couple play'd,
And the glad boy danc'd to the tunes he made.
Near this hall's end a shittim-table stood;
Yet well-wrought plate strove to conceal the
wood;

For from the foot a golden vine did sprout,
And cast his fruitful riches all about.
Well might that beauteous ore the grape express,
Which does weak man intoxicate no less.
Of the same wood the gilded beds were made,
And on them large embroider'd carpets laid,
From Egypt, the rich shop of follies, brought;
But arts of pride all nations soon are taught.
Behold seven comely blooming youths appear,
And in their hands seven silver wash-pots bear,
Curl'd, and gay clad; the choicest sons that be
Of Gibeon's race, and slaves of high degree!
Seven beauteous maids march'd softly in behind;
Bright scarfs their clothes, their hair fresh gar-
lands, bind;

And, whilst the princes wash, they on them shed
Rich ointments, which their costly odours spread
O'er the whole room; from their small prisons
free,
[flee.
With such glad haste through the wide air they
The king was plac'd alone, and o'er his head
A well-wronght Heaven of silk and gold was
spread,

Azure the ground, the Sun in gold shone bright, But piere'd the wandering clouds with silver light. The right-hand bed the king's three sous did grace,

The third was Abner's, Adriel's, David's, place; And twelve large tables more were fill' below, With the prime men Saul's court and camp could show.

The palace did with mirth and music sound, And the crown'd goblets nimbly mov'd around;

But, though bright joy in every guest did shine,
The plenty, state, music, and spriteful wine,
Were lost on Saul; an angry care did dwell
In his dark breast, and all gay forms expel.
David's unusual absence from the feast
To his sick spirit did jealous thoughts suggest:
Long lay he still, nor drank, nor eat, nor spoke,
And thus at last his troubled silence broke:

"Where can he be?" said he; "It must be SO-"

With that he paus'd a while. "Too well we know His boundless pride: he grieves, and hates to

see

The solemn triumphs of my court and me.
Believe me, friends, and trust what I can show
From thousand proofs; th' ambitious David now
Does those vast things in his proud soul design
That too much business give for mirth or wine.
He's kindling now, perhaps, rebellious fire
Among the tribes, and does ev'n now conspire
Against my crown, and all our lives; whilst we
Are loth ev'n to suspect, what we might see.
By the Great Name, 'tis true."
With that he strook the board; and no man
But Jonathan durst undertake to clear [there
The blameless prince; and scarce ten words he
spoke,

When thus his speech th' enraged tyrant broke: "Disloyal wretch! thy gentle mother's shame! Whose cold pale ghost ev'n blushes at thy name! Who fears, lest her chaste bed should doubted be, And her white fame stain'd by black deeds of thee !

[hire Canst thou be mine? a crown sometimes does Ev'n sons against their parents to conspire; But ne'er did story yet, or fable, tell Of one so wild, who, merely to rebel, Quitted th' unquestion'd birthright of a throne, And bought his father's ruin with his own. Thou need'st not plead th' ambitious youth's de feuce;

Thy crime clears his, and makes that innocence :
Nor can his foul ingratitude appear,

Whilst thy unnatural guilt is plac'd so near.
Is this that noble friendship you pretend?
Mine, thine own, foe-and thy worst enemy's
friend?

If thy low spirit can thy great birthright quit,
The thing 's but just, so ill deserv'st thou it.
I, and thy brethren here, have no such mind;
Nor such prodigious worth in David find,
That we to him should our just rights resign,
Or think God's choice not made so well as thine.
Shame of thy house and tribe! hence, from mine
eye,

1

To thy false friend, and servile master, fly;
He's ere this time in arms expecting thee;
Haste, for those arms are rais'd to ruin me
Thy sin that way will nobler much appear,
Than to remain his spy and agent here.
When I think this, Nature, by thee forsook,
Forsakes me too." With that his spear he took
To strike at him; the mirth and music cease;
The guests all rise, this sudden storm t' appease:
The prince his danger, and his duty, knew;
And low he bow'd, and silently withdrew.

To David straight, who in a forest nigh
Waits his advice, the royal friend does fly.
The sole advice now, like the danger, clear,
Was, in some foreign land this storm t' outwear.

All marks of comely grief in both are seen;
And mournful kind discourses pass'd between.
Now generous tears their hasty tongues restrain,
Now they begin, and talk all o'er again :
A reverent oath of constant love they take,
And God's high name their dreaded witness make;
Not that at all their faiths could doubtful prove;
But 'twas the tedious zeal of endless love.
Thus, ere they part, they the short time bestow
In all the pomp friendship and grief could show:
And David now, with doubtful cares oppress'd,
Beneath a shade borrows some little rest;
When, by command divine, thick mists arise,
And stop the sense, and close the conquer'd eyes.
There is a place which man most high doth rear,
The small world's Heaven, where Reason moves the
sphere:

Here in a robe which does all colours show

(Th' envy of birds, and the clouds' gaudy bow) Phansy, wild dame, with much lascivious pride, By twin-camelions drawn, does gaily ride;

Her coach there follows, and throngs round about

Of shapes and airy forms an endless rout:
A sea rolls on with harmless fury here;
Straight 'tis a field, and trees and herbs appear:
Here in a moment are vast armies made,
And a quick scene of war and blood display'd:
Here sparkling wines, and brighter maids, come
in,

The bawds for Sense, and lying baits of Sin:
Some things arise of strange and quarrelling kind,
The forepart lion, and a snake behind :
Here golden mountains swell the covetous place,
And centaurs ride themselves, a painted race.
Of these slight wonders Nature sees the store,
And only then accounts herself but poor.

Hither an angel comes, in David's trance,
And finds them mingled in an antique dance;
Of all the numerous forms fit choice he takes,
And joins them wisely, and this vision makes.-

First David there appears in kingly state,
Whilst the twelve tribes his dread commands
await;
[goes,
Straight to the wars with his join'd strength he
Settles new friends, and frights his ancient foes.
To Solima, Canaan's old head, they came,
(Since high in note, then not unknown to Fame ;)
The blind and lame th' undoubted wall defend,
And no new wounds or dangers apprehend:
The busy image of great Joab there
Disdains the mock, and teaches them to fear:
He climbs the airy walls, leaps raging down,
New-minted shapes of slaughter fill the town:
They curse the guards their mirth and bravery
chose;

All of them now are slain, or made like those.
Far through an inward scene an army lay,
Which with full banners a fair fish display:
From Sidon plains to happy Egypt's coast
'They seem all met; a vast and warlike host!
Th'ther hastes David to his destin'd prey,
Honour and noble danger lead the way;
The conscious trees shook with a reverent fear
Their unblown tops; God walked before him
there.

Slaughter the weary'd Riphaims' bosom fills;
Dead corpse emboss the vale with little hills.
On th' other side, Sophenes' mighty kirg
Numberless troops of the blest East does bring:

Twice are his men cut off, and chariots ta'en;
Damascus and rich Adad help in vain.
Here Nabathæan troops in battle stand,
With all the lusty youth of Syrian land!
Undaunted Joab rushes on with speed,
Gallantly mounted on his fiery steed;

He hews down all, and deals his deaths around;
The Syrians leave, or possess dead, the ground.
On th' other wing does brave Abishai ride,
Recking in blood and dust; on every side
The perjur'd sons of Ammon quit the field;
Some basely die, and some more basely yield.
Through a thick wood the wretched Hanun flies,
And far more justly then fears Hebrew spies.
Moloch, their bloody god, thrusts out his head,
Grinning through a black cloud: him they 'd
long fed

In his seven chambers; and he still did eat
New-roasted babes, his dear delicious meat.
Again they arise, more anger'd than dismay'd;
Euphrates and swift Tygris sends them aid:
In vain they send it, for again they're slain,
And feast the greedy birds on Helay plain.
Here Rabba with proud towers affronts the sky,
And round about great Joab's trenches lie:
They force the walls,and sack the helpless town;
On David's head shines Ammon's massy crown.
Midst various torments the curs'd race expires;
David himself his severe wrath admires.

Next upon Israel's throne does bravely sit
A comely youth, endowed with wondrous wit.
Far, from the parched line, a royal dame,
To hear his tongue and boundless wisdom, came:
She carried back in her triumphant womb
The glorious stock of thousand kings to come.
Here brightest forms his pomp and wealth display,
Here they a temple's vast, foundations lay;
A mighty work! and with fit glories fill'd
For God t' inhabit, and that king to build.
Some from the quarries hew out massy stone,
Some draw it up with cranes; some breathe and
In order o'er the anvil; some cut down [groan
Tall cedars, the proud mountain's ancient crown;
Some carve the trunks, and breathing shapes
bestow,

;

Giving the trees more life than when they grow. But oh, alas! what sudden cloud is spread About this glorious king's eclipsed head? It all his fame benights, and all his store,[more! Wrapping him round; and now he 's seen no When straight his son appears,at Sichem crown'd, With young and heedless council circled round Unseemly object! but a falling state Has always its own errours join'd with Fate. Ten tribes at once forsake the Jessian throne, And bold Adoram at his message stone; "Brethren of Israel !"-more he fain would say, But a flint stopp'd his mouth, and speech, i' th' Here this fond king's disasters but begin, [way. He's destin'd to more shame by his father's sin: Susack came up, and under his command A dreadful army from scorch'd Afric's sand, As numberless as that: all is his prey, The temple's sacred wealth they bear away: Adrazar's shields and golden loss they take: Ev'n David in his dream does sweat and shake. Thus fails this wretched prince; his loins appear Of less weight now, than Solomon's fingers were. Abijah next seeks Israel to regain, And wash in seas of blood his father's stain: