  Long time had Israel been disus'd from Rest, Long had they been by Tyrants sore opprest; Kings of all sorts they ignorantly crav'd, And grew more stupid as they were enslav'd; Yet want of Grace they impiously disown'd, And still like Slaves beneath the Burden groan'd: With languid Eyes their Race of Kings they view, The Bad too many, and the Good too few; Some rob'd their Houses, and destroy'd their Lives, Ravish'd their Daughters, and debauch'd their Wives; Prophan'd the Altars with polluted Loves, And worship'd Idols in the Woods and Groves. To Foreign Nations next they have recourse; Striving to mend, they made their State much worse. They first from Hebron all their Plagues did bring, Cramm'd in the Single Person of a King; From whose base Loins ten thousand Evils flow, Which by Succession they must undergo. Yet sense of Native Freedom still remains, They fret and grumble underneath their Chains; Incens'd, enrag'd, their Passion do's arise, Till at his Palace-Gate their Monarch dies. Whose Children next depos'd his Tyrant Son, Made him, like Cain, a murd'rous Wanderer, Both of his Crimes, and of his Fortunes share. But still resolv'd to split on Foreign Shelves, Rather than venture once to trust Themselves, To Foreign Courts and Councils do resort, To find a King their Freedoms to support: Of one for mighty Actions fam'd they're told, Profoundly wise, and desperately bold, Skilful in War, Successful still in Fight, Had vanquish'd Hosts, and Armies put to flight; And when the Storms of War and Battels cease, Knew well to steer the Ship of State in Peace. Him they approve, approaching to their sight; Lov'd by the Gods, of Mankind the Delight. The numerous Tribes resort to see him land, Cover the Beach, and blacken all the Strand; With loud Huzza's they welcome him on shore, And for their Blessing do the Gods implore. The Sanhedrim conven'd, at length debate The sad Condition of their drooping State, And Sinking Church, just ready now to drown; And with one Shout they do the Hero crown. Ah Happy Israel! had there never come Into his Councils crafty Knaves at home, Sworn Foes to Israel's Rights and Israel's Good; Who impiously foment Intestine Jars, Exhaust our Treasure, and prolong our Wars; Make Israel's People to themselves a prey, Mislead their King, and steal his Heart away: United Intrests thus they do divide, The State declines by Avarice and Pride; Like Beasts of Prey they ravage all the Land, Acquire Preferments, and usurp Command: The Foreign Inmates the Housekeepers spoil, And drain the Moisture of our fruitful Soil. If to our Monarch there are Honours due, Yet what with Gibeonites have we to do? When Foreign States employ 'em for their Food, To draw their Water, and to hew their Wood. What Mushroom Honours dos our Soil afford! One day a Begger, and the next a Lord. What dastard Souls do Jewish Nobles wear! The Commons such Affronts would never bear. Let no Historian the sad Stories tell Of thy base Sons, Oh servile Israel! But thou, my Muse, more generous and brave, Shalt their black Crimes from dark oblivion save; To future Ages shalt their Sins disclose, And brand with Infamy thy Nation's Foes. Where stormy Winds and noisy Billows roar; A Land much differing from all other Soils, Forc'd from the Sea, and buttress'd up with Piles. No marble Quarrys bind the spungy Ground, But Loads of Sand and Cockle-shells are found: Its Natives void of Honesty and Grace, A Boorish, rude, and an inhumane Race; From Nature's Excrement their Life is drawn, Are born in Bogs, and nourish'd up from Spawn. Their hard-smoak'd Beef is their continual Meat, Which they with Rusk, their luscious Manna, eat; Such Food with their chill stomachs best agrees, They sing Hosannah to a Mare's-milk Cheese. To supplicate no God, their Lips will move, Who speaks in Thunder like Almighty Jove, But watry Deities they do invoke, Who from the Marshes most Divinely croak. Their Land, as if asham'd their Crimes to see, Dives down beneath the surface of the Sea. Neptune, the God who do's the Seas command, Ne'er stands on Tip-toe to descry their Land; But seated on a Billow of the Sea, With Ease their humble Marshes do's survey. These are the Vermin do our State molest; Eclipse our Glory, and disturb our Rest. Bentir to this and future Ages curst, Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud, Shun'd by the Great, and hated by the Crowd; Who neither Blood nor Parentage can boast, And what he got the Jewish Nation lost: By lavish Grants whole Provinces he gains, Made forfeit by the Jewish Peoples Pains; Till angry Sanhedrims such Grants resume, And from the Peacock take each borrow'd Plume. Why should the Gibeonites our Land engross, And aggrandize their Fortunes with our loss? Let them in foreign States proudly command, They have no Portion in the Promis'd Land, Which immemorially has been decreed To be the Birth-right of the Jewish Seed |
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