Absalom and Achitophel

Editor's Note: This poem by John Dryden is an allegory, using Biblical characters and environment in place of England in Dryden's time. Here is the 'cast' of equivalent characters:

David	King Charles II
Michal	Katherine of Baragna--Charles' wife, unable to have children
Absalom	Duke of Monmouth--Charles' oldest son (illegitimate)
Architophel	Earl of Shaftesbury--a leader of the Whig party
Saul	Cromwell
The Jews	The English
Jerusalemites	Londoners
Rabbins	Clergy
Egypt	France
Jebusite	Roman Catholic

In pious times, e'r Priest-craft did begin,

Before Polygamy was made a sin;

When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,

E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:

When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd

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,

Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.

Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,

A Soyl ungratefull 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 Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:

Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,

His father got him with a greater Gust;

Or that his Conscious destiny made way

By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.

Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,

With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown

In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,

And seem'd as he were only born for love.

What e'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 open'd in his face.

With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd

His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:

To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,

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 constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:

And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,

Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.

Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,

While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.

But Life can never be sincerely blest:

Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.

The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,

As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;

God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,

No King could govern, nor no God could please;

(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size

That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

These Adam-wits too fortunately free,

Began to dream they wanted libertie;

And when no rule, no precedent was found

Of men, by Laws less circumscrib'd 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 banisht David did from Hebron bring,

And with a Generall Shout, proclaim'd him King:

Those very Jewes, who, at their very best,

Their Humour more than Loyalty exprest,

Now wondred why, so long, they had obey'd

An Idoll Monarch which their hands had made:

Thought they might ruine him they could create;

Or melt him to that Golden Calf, a State,

But these were randome bolts: No form'd Design,

Nor Interest made the Factious Croud to joyn:

The sober part of Israel, free from stain,

Well knew the value of a peacefull raign:

And, looking backward with a wise afright,

Saw Seames of wounds, dishonest to the sight;

In contemplation of whose ugly Scars,

They Curst the memory of Civil Wars.

The moderate sort of Men, thus qualifi'd,

Inclin'd the Ballance to the better side:

And David's mildness manag'd it so well,

The Bad found no occasion to Reb ell.

But, when to Sin our byast Nature leans,

The carefull Devil is still at hand with means;

And providently Pimps for ill desires:

The Good old Cause reviv'd, a Plot requires.

Plots, true or false, are necessary things,

To raise up Common-wealths, and ruin Kings.

Th' inhabitants of old Jerusalem

Were Jebusites: the Town so call'd from them;

And theirs' the Native right--

But when the chosen people grew more strong,

The rightfull 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 weaken'd, well or ill content,

Submit they must to David's Government:

Impoverist, and depriv'd of all Command,

Their Taxes doubled as they lost their Land,

And what was harder yet to flesh and blood,

Their Gods disgrac'd, and burnt like common wood.

This set the Heathen Priesthood in a flame;

For Priests of all Religions are the same:

Of whatsoe'r 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 tho their Enemies,

In this conclude them honest men and wise;

For 'twas their duty, all the Learned think,

T' espouse his Cause by whom they eat and drink.

From hence began that Plot, the Nation's Curse,

Bad in it self, but represented worse,

Rais'd in extremes, and in extremes decry'd;

With Oaths affirm'd, with dying Vows deny'd,

Not weigh'd, or winnow'd by the Multitude;

But swallow'd in the Mass, unchew'd and Crude.

Some Truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with Lyes;

To please the Fools, and puzzle all the Wise.

Succeeding times did equal folly call,

Believing nothing, or believing all.

Th' Egyptian Rites the Jebusites imbrac'd;

Where Gods were recommended by their Tast.

Such savory Deities must needs be good,

As serv'd t 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 us'd, (the Scrificers trade,)

Fools are more hard to Conquer than Perswade.

Their busie Teachers mingled with the Jews;

And rak'd, 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 Authour swears it not; but who can know

How far the Devil and Jebusites may go?

This Plot, which fail'd for want of common Sense,

Had yet a deep and dangerous Consequence:

For, as when raging Fevers boyl 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,

Oppos'd the Power, to which they could not rise.

Some had in Courts been Great, and thrown from thence,

Like Feinds, were harden'd in Impenitence.

Some by their Monarch's fatal mercy grown,

From Pardon'd Rebels, Kinsmen to the Throne;

Were rais'd in Power and publick Office high:

Strong Bands, if Bands ungratefull men could tye.

Of these the false Achitophel was first:

A Name to all succeeding Ages Curst.

For close Designs, and crooked Counsels fit;

Sagacious, Bold, and Turbulent of wit:

Restless, unfixt in Principles and Place;

In Power unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace.

A fiery Soul, which working out its way,

Fretted the Pigmy Body to decay:

And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay.

A daring Pilot in extremity;

Pleas'd with the Danger, when the Waves went high

He sought the Storms; but for a Calm unfit

Would Steer too night the Sands, to boast his Wit.

Great Wits are sure to Madness near ally'd;

And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide;

Else, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest,

Refuse his Age the needful hours of Rest?

Punish a Body which he could not please;

Bankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of Ease?

And all to leave, what with his Toyl he won,

To that unfeather'd, two Leg'd thing, a Son;

Got, while his Sould did hudled Notions try;

And born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.

In Friendship False, Implacable in Hate:

Resolv'd to Ruine or to Rule the State.

To Compass this the Triple Bond he broke;

The Pillars of the publick Safety shok;

And fitted Israel for a foreign Yoke.

Then, seiz'd with Fear, yet still affecting Fame,

Usurp'd a Patriott's All-attoning Name.

So easie still it proves in Factious Times,

With publick Zeal to cancel private Crimes.

How safe is Treason, and how sacred ill,

Where none can sin against the Peoples Will:

Where Crouds can wink; and no offence be known,

Since in anothers guilt they find their own.

Yet, Fame deserv'd, no Enemy can grudge;

The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.

In Israels Courts ne'r sat an Abbethdin

With more discerning Eyes, or Hands more clean;

Unbrib'd, unsought, the Wretched to redress;

Swift of Dispatch, and easie of Access.

Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown,

With vertues only proper to the Gown;

Or, had the rankness of the Soyl been freed

From Cockle, that opprest the Noble seed;

David, for him his tunefull Harp had strung,

And Heaven had wanted one immortal song.

But wide Ambition loves to slide, not stand;

And Fortunes Ice prefers to Vertues Land:

Achitophel, grown weary to possess

A lawfull Fame, and lazy Happiness;

Disdain'd the Golden fruit to gather free,

And lent the Croud his Arm to shake the Tree.

Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv'd long since,

He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince;

Held up the Buckler of the Peoples Cause,

Against the Crown; and sculk'd behind the Laws.

The wish'd occasion of the Plot he takes,

Some Circumstances finds, but more he makes.

By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears

Of listning Crowds, with Jealosies and Fears

Of Arbitrary COunsels brought to light,

And proves the King himself a Jebusite.

Weak Arguments! which yet he knew fulwell,

Were strong with People easie to Rebell.

For, govern'd by the Moon, the giddy Jews

Tread the same track when she the Prime renews:

And once in twenty Years, their Scribes Record,

By natural Instinct they change their Lord.

Achitophel still wants a Chief, and none

Was found so fit as Warlike Absalon:

Not that he wished his Greatness to create,

(For Polititians neither love nor hate:)

Bur, for he knew, his Title not allow'd,

Would keep him still depending on the Crowd:

That Kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be

Drawn to the dregs of a Democracy.

Him he attempts, with studied Arts to please,

And sheds his Venome, in such words as these.

Auspicious Prince! at whose Nativity

Some Royal Planet rul'd the Southern sky;

Thy longing Countries Darling and Desire;

Their cloudy Pillar, and their guardian Fire:

Their Second Moses, whose extended Wand

Divides the Seas, and shews the promis'd Land:

Whose dawning Day, in every distant age,

Has exercis'd the Sacred Prophets rage:

The Peoples Prayer, the glad Diviners Theam,

The Young-mens Vision, and the Old mens Dream!

Thee, Saviour, Thee, the Nations Vows confess;

And, never satisfi'd with seeing, bless:

Swift, undespoken Pomps, they steps proclaim,

And stemmerring Babes are taught to lisp thy Name.

How long wilt thou the general Joy detain;

Starve, and defraud the People of thy Reign?

Content ingloriously to pass they days

Like one of Vertues Fools that feeds on Praise;

Till thy fresh Glories, which now shine so bright,

Grow Stale and Tarnish with our daily sight.

Believe me, Royal Youth, thy Fruit must be,

Or gather'd Ripe, or rot upon the Tree.

Heav'n has to all alloted, soon or late,

Some lucky Revolution of their Fate;

Whose Motions, if we watch and guide with Skill,

(For humane Good depends on humane Will,)

Our Fortune rolls, as from a smooth Descent,

And, from the first Impression, takes the Bent;

But, if unseiz'd, she glides away like wind;

And leaves repenting Folly far behind.

Now, now she meets you, with a glorious prize,

And spreads her Locks before her as she flies.

Had thus Old David, from whose Loyns you spring,

Not dar'd, when Fortune call'd him, to be King,

At Gath an Exile he might still remain,

And heavens Anointing Oyle had been in vain.

Let his successfull Youth your hopes engage,

But shun th' example of Declining Age:

Behold him setting in his Western Skies,

The Shadows lengthening as the Vapours rise.

He is not now, as when on Jordan's Sand

The Joyfull People throng'd to see him Land,

Cov'ring all the Beach, and blackning all the Strand;

But, like the Prince of Angels from his height,

Comes tumbling downward with diminsh'd light;

Betray'd by one poor Plot to publick Scorn,

(Our only blessing since his Curst Return:)

Those heaps of People which one Sheaf did bind,

Blown off and scatter'd by a Puff of WInd.

What strength can he to y0our Designs oppose,

Naked of Friends, and round beset with Foes?

If Pharoah's doubtfull Succour he shoud use,

A Foreign Aid would more incense the Jews.

Proud Egypt would dissembled Friendship bring;

Foment the War, but not support the King:

Nor would the Royal Party e'r unite

With Pharoah's Arms, t' assist the Jebusite;

Or if they shoud, their Interest soon woud break,

And with such odious Aid make David weak.

All sorts of men by my successfull Arts,

Abhorring Kings, estrange their alter'd Hearts

From David's Rule: And 'tis the general Cry,

Religion, Common-wealth, and Liberty.

If you as Champion of the publique Good,

Add to their Arms a Chief of Royal BLood;

What may not Israel hope, and what Applause

Might such a General gain by such a Cause?

Not barren Praise alone, that Gaudy Flower,

Fair only to the sight, but solid Power:

And Nobler is a limited Command,

Giv'n by the Love of all your Native Land,

Than a Successive Title, Long, and Dark,

Drawn from the Mouldy rolls of Noah's Ark.

What cannot Praise effect in Mighty Minds,

When Flattery Sooths, and when Ambition Blinds!

Desire of Power, on Earth a Vitious Weed,

Yet, sprung from High, is of Cælestial Seed:

In God 'tis Glory: And when men Aspire,

'Tis but a Spark too much of Heavenly Fire.

Th'Ambitious Youth, too covetous of Fame,

Too full of Angells Metal in his Frame,

Unwarily was led from Vertues ways;

Made Drunk with Honour, and Debauch'd with Praise.

Half loath, and half consenting to the Ill,

(For Loyal Blood within him strugled still)

He thus reply'd -- And what Pretence have I

To take up Arms for Publick Liberty?

My Father Governs with unquestion'd Right;

The Faiths Defender, and Mankinds Delight:

Good, Gracious, Just, observant of the Laws;

And Heav'n by Wonders has Espous'd his Cause.

Whom has he Wrong'd in all his Peaceful Reign?

Who sues for Justice to his Throne in Vain?

What Millions has he Pardon'd of his Foes,

Whom Just Revenge did to his Wrath expose?

Mild, Easy, Humble, Studious of our Good;

Enclin'd to Mercy, and averse from Blood.

If Mildness Ill with Stubborn Israel Suite,

His Crime is God's beloved Attribute.

What could he gain, his People to Betray,

Or change his Right, for Aribtrary Sway?

Let Haughty Pharoah Curse with such a Reign,

His Fruitfull Nile, nad Yoak a Servile Train.

If David'd Rule Jerusalem Displease,

The Dog-star heats their Brains to this Disease.

Why then should I, Encouraging the Bad,

Turn Rebell, and run Popularly Mad?

Were he a Tyrant who, by Lawless Might,

Opprest the Jews, and Rais'd the Jebusite,

Well might I Mourn; but Natures Holy Bands

Would Curb my Spirits, and Restrain my Hands:

The People might assert their Liberty;

But what was Right in them, were Crime in me.

His Favour leaves me nothing to require;

Prevents my WIshes, and outruns Desire.

What more can I expect while David lives,

All but his Kingly Diadem he gives;

And that: But there he Paus'd; then Sighing, said,

Is Justly Destin'd for a Worthier Head.

For when my Father from his Toyls shall Rest,

And late Augment the Number of the Blest:

His Lawfull Issue shall the Throne ascend,

Or the Collateral Line where that shall end.

His Brother, though Opprest with Vulgar Spright,

Yet Dauntless and Secure of Native Right,

Of every Royal Vertue stands possest;

Still Dear to all the Bravest, and the Best.

His Courage Foes, his Friends his Truth Proclaim;

His Loyalty the King, the World his Fame.

His Mercy even th'Offending Crowd will find,

For sure he comes of a Forgiving Kind.

Why should I then Repine at Heavens Decree;

Which gives me no Pretence to Royalty?

Yet oh that Fate Propitiously Enclind,

Had rais'd my Birth, or had debas'd my Mind;

To my large Soul, not all her Treasure lent,

And then Betray'd it to a mean Descent.

I find, I find my mounting Spirits Bold,

And David's Part disdains my Mothers Mold.

Why am I Scanted by a Niggard Birth,,

My Soul Disclaims the Kindred of her Earth:

And made for Empire, Whispers me within;

Desire of Greatness is a Godlike Sin.

Him Staggering so when Hells dire Agent found,

While fainting Vertue scarce maintain'd her Ground,

He pours fresh Forces in, and thus Replies:

Th'Eternal God Supreamly Good and Wise,

Imparts not these Prodigiuos Gifts in vain;

What Wonders are Reserv'd to bless your Reign?

Against your will your Arguments have shown,

Such Vertue's only given to guide a Throne.

Not that your Father's Mildness I contemn;

But Manly Force becomes the Diadem.

'Tis true, he grants the People all they crave;

And more perhaps than Subjects ought to have:

For Lavish grants suppose a Monarch tame,

And more his Goodness than his Wit proclaim.

But when shoud People strive their Bonds to break,

If not when Kings are Negligent or Weak?

Let him give on till he can give no more,

The Thrifty Sanhedrin shall keep him poor:

And every Sheckle which he can receive,

Shall cost a Limb of his Prerogative.

To ply him wiht new Plots, shall be my care,

Or plunge him deep in some Expensive War;

Which when his Treasure can no more Supply,

He must, with the Remains of Kingship, buy.

His faithful Friends, our Jealousies and Fears,

Call Jebusites; and Pharaoh's Pentioners:

Whom, when our Fury from his Aid has torn,

He shall be Naked left to publick Scorn.

The next Successor, whom I fear and hate,

My Arts have made Obnoxious to the State;

Turn'd all his Vertues to his Overthrow,

And gain'd our Elders to pronouce a Foe.

His Right, for Sums of necessary Gold,

Shall first be Pawn'd, and afterwards be Sold:

Till time shall Ever-wanting David draw,

To pass your doubtfull Title into Law:

If not; the People have a Right Supreme

To make their Kings; for Kings are made for them.

All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust,

Which when resum'd, can be no longer Just.

Succession, for the general Good design'd,

In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind:

If alterning that, the People can relieve,

Better one Suffer, than a Nation grieve.

The Jews well know their power: e'r Saul they Chose,

God was their King, and God they durst Depose.

Urge now your Piety, your Filial Name,

A Father's Right, and fear of future Fame;

The publick Good, that Universal Call,

To which even Heav'n Submitted, answers all.

Nor let his Love Enchant your generous Mind;

'Tis Natures trick to Propogate her Kind.

Our fond Begetters, who would never dye,

Love but themselves in their Posterity.

Or let his Kindness by th'Effects by try'd,

Or let him lay his vain Pretence aside.

God said he lov'd your Father; coud he bring

A better Proof, than to Anoint him King?

It surely shew'd he lov'd the Shepherd well,

Who gave so fair a flock as Israel.

Would David have you thought his Darling Son?

What means he then, to Alienate the Crown?

The name of Godly he may blush to hear:

'Tis after God's own heart to Cheat his Heir.

He to his Brother gives Supreme Command;

To you a Legacy of Barren Land:

Perhaps th'old Harp, on which he thrums his Layes:

Or some dull Hebrew Ballad in your Praise.

Then the next Heir, a Prince, Severe and Wise,

Already looks on you with Jealous Eyes;

Sees through the thin Disguises of your Arts,

And markes your Progress in the Peoples Hearts.

Though now his mighty Soul its Grief contains;

He meditates Revenge who least Complains.

And like a Lyon, Slumbring in the way,

Or Sleep-dissembling, while he waits his Prey,

His fearless Foes within his Distance draws;

Constrains his Roaring, and Contracts his Paws;

Till at the last, his time for Fury found,

He shoots with suddain Vengeance from the Ground:

The Prostrate Vulgar, passes o'r, and Spares;

But with a Lordly Rage, his Hunters teares.

Your Case no tame Expedients will afford;

Resolve on Death, or Conquest by the Sword,

Which for no less a Stake than Life, you Draw;

And Self-defence is Natures Eldest Law.

Leave the warm People no Considering time;

For then Rebellion may be thought a Crime.

Prevail your self of what Occasion gives,

But try your Title while your Father lives;

And that your Arms may have a fair Pretence,

Proclaim, you take them in the King's Defence:

Whose Sacred Life each minute woud Expose,

To Plots, from seeming Friends, and secret Foes.

And who can sound the depth of David's Soul?

Perhaps his fear, his kindness may Controul.

He fears his Brother, though he loves his Son,

For plighted Vows too late to be undone.

If so, by Force he wishes to be gain'd,

Like womens Leachery, to seem Constrain'd:

Doubt not, but when he most affects the Frown,

Commit a pleasing Rape upon the Crown.

Secure his Person to secure your Cause;

They who possess the Prince, possess the Laws.

(Continued)