University of Virginia Library

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 Burthen 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 does arise,
'Till at his Palace-Gate their Monarch dies.
This Glorious Feat was by the Fathers done,
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'r 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 welcom 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 Heroe crown.

Ah happy Israel! had there never come
Into his Councils crafty Knaves at home,
In combination with a Foreign Brood,
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 Interests 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 does 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, O 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.

A Country lies, due East from Juda's shore,
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 does 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 does survey.
These are the Vermin do our State molest;
Eclipse our Glory, and disturb our Rest.

BENTIR in the inglorious Roll the first,
Bentir to this and future Ages, curst,
Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud,
Shunn'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.
How ill does Bentir in the Head appear
Of Warriours, who do Jewish Ensigns bear,
By such we're grown e'en scandalous in War.
Our Fathers Trophies wore, and oft could tell
How by their Swords the mighty Thousands fell;
What mighty Deeds our Grand-fathers had done,
What Battels fought, what Wreaths of Honour won:
Thro' the extended Orb they purchas'd Fame,
The Nations trembling at their awful Name:
Such wondrous Heroes our Fore-fathers were,
When we base Souls! but Pigmies are in War:
By foreign Chieftains we improve in Skill,
We learn how to intrench, not how to kill:
For all our Charge are good Proficients made
In using both the Pickax and the Spade.
But in what Field have we a Conquest wrought?
In ten Years War what Battel have we fought?

If we a foreign Slave may use in War,
Yet why in Council should that Slave appear?
If we with Jewish Treasure make him great,
Must it be done to undermine the State?
Where are the ancient Sages of Renown?
No Magi left, fit to advise the Crown?
Must we by foreign Councils be undone?
Unhappy Israel, who such Measures takes,
And seeks for Statesmen in the Bogs and Lakes;
Who speak the Language of most abject Slaves,
Under the Conduct of our Jewish Knaves.
Our Hebrews murder'd in their hoarser Throats;
How ill their Tongues agree with Jewish Notes!
Their untun'd Prattle does our Sense confound,
Which in our Princely Palaces does sound;
The self-same Language the old Serpent spoke,
When misbelieving Eve the Apple took:
Of our first Mother why are we asham'd,
When by the self-same Rhetorick we are damn'd?

But Bentir, not content with such Command,
To canton out the Jewish Nation's Land;
He does extend to other Coasts his Pride,
And other Kingdoms into Parts divide.
Unhappy Hiram! dismal is thy Song;
Tho born to Empire, thou art ever young!
Ever in Nonage, canst no Right transfer:
But who made Bentir thy Executor?
What mighty Power does Israel's Land afford?
What Power has made the famous Bentir Lord?
The Peoples Voice, and Sanhedrims Accord.
Are not the Rights of People still the same?
Did they e'er differ in or Place or Name?
Have not Mankind on equal Terms still stood,
Without Distinction, since the mighty Flood?
And have not Hiram's Subjects a free Choice
To chuse a King by their united Voice?
If Israel's People could a Monarch chuse,
A living King at the same time refuse;
That Hiram's People, shall it e'er be said,
Have not the Right of Choice when he is dead?
When no Successor to the Crown's in sight,
The Crown is certainly the Peoples Right.
If Kings are made the People to enthral,
We had much better have no King at all:
But Kings, appointed for the Common Good,
Always as Guardians to their People stood.
And Heaven allows the People sure a Power
To chuse such Kings as shall not them devour:
They know full well what best will serve themselves,
How to avoid the dangerous Rocks and Shelves.

Unthinking Israel! Ah henceforth beware
How you entrust this faithless Wanderer!
He who another Kingdom can divide,
May set your Constitution soon aside,
And o'er your Liberties in Triumph ride.
Support your Rightful Monarch and his Crown,
But pull this proud, this croaking Mortal down.

Proceed, my Muse; the Story next relate
Of Keppech, the imperious Chit of State,
Mounted to Grandeur by the usual Course
Of Whoring, Pimping, or a Crime that's worse;
Of Foreign Birth, and undescended too,
Yet he, like Bentir, mighty Feats can do.
He robs our Treasure to augment his State,
And Jewish Nobles on his Fortunes wait:
Our ravish'd Honours on his Shoulder wears,
And Titles from our ancient Rolls he tears.
Was e'er a prudent People thus befool'd,
By upstart Foreigners thus basely gull'd?
Ye Jewish Nobles, boast no more your Race,
Or sacred Badges did your Fathers Grace!
In vain is Blood, or Parentages, when
Ribbons and Garters can ennoble Men.
To Chivalry you need have no recourse,
The gawdy Trappings make the Ass a Horse.
No more, no more your ancient Honours own,
By slavish Gibeonites you are outdone:
Or else your ancient Courage reassume,
And to assert your Honours once presume;
From off their Heads your ravish'd Lawrels tear,
And let them know what Jewish Nobles are.