Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

When Zedechia (He whose haplesse hand
Once held the Scepter of Great Iudahs Land)
Went up the Palace of Proud Babylon,
(The Prince Serajah him attending on,)
A dreadfull Prophet, (from whose blasting breath
Came sudden death, and nothing else but death)
Into Serajah's peacefull hand betooke,
The sad Contents of a more dismall Booke:

Breake ope the leaves, those leaves so full of dread,
Read (sonne of thunder) said the Prophet, reade;
Say thus say freely thus, The Lord hath spoke it,
'Tis done, the world's unable to revoke it,
Woe, woe, and heavy woes ten thousand more
Betide great Babylon, that painted whore;
Thy buildings, and thy fensive Towers shall
Flame on a sudden, and to cinders fall,
None shall be left to waile thy griefe with Howles:
Thy streets shall peopl'd be with Bats and Owles:
None shall remaine to call thy places voyd,
None to possesse, nor ought to be enjoy'd;
Nought shall be left for thee to terme thine owne,
But helplesse ruines of a haplesse towne:

Said then the Prophet, When thy language hath
Empty'd thy Cheekes of this thy borrow'd Breath,
Close then the Booke, and binde a stone unto it,
That done, into the swift Euphrates throw it,
And let this following speech explane with all
The Hieroglyphicke of proud Babels fall.
Thus, thus shall Babel, Thus shall Babels glory,
Of her destruction leave a Tragick story:

Thus, thus shall Babell fall, and none relieve her,
Thus, thus shall Babel sinke, Thus sinke for ever.

And falne she is. Thus after-times made good
That sacred Prophesie, confirm'd in blood.
Great Royall Dreamer, where is now that thing
Thou so much vaunted'st of? where, O soveraigne King,
Is that great Babel, that was rais'd so high,
To shew the highnesse of thy Majesty?
Where is thy Royall off-spring to succeed
Thy Throne, and to preserve thy Princely seed
Till this time? Sleeping, how could'st thou foresee
That thing, which waking thou thoghtst ne'r would be?

And thou Belshazzar, (full of youthfull fire,
Vnlucky Grand-child to a lucklesse Syre)
On thee the sacred Oracles attended,
For with thy life, great Babels Kingdome ended:
What made thy Spirit tremble, and thy hayre
Bolt up? what made thee (fainting) gaspe for ayre?
A simple Word upon a painted Walk?
What's that to thee? If ought, what harme at all?
Could words affright thee? O preposterous wit,
To feare the writing, not the hand that writ!
The Hand that writ, it selfe (unseene) did shroud
Within the gloomy bosome of a Cloud;
The Hand that writ, was bent, (nor bent in vaine)
To part the Kingdome, and the King in twaine,
The Hand that writ, did write the sentence downe
And now stands armed to depose the Crowne;
The hand that writ, did threaten to translate
Thy Kingdome (Babel) to the Persian state:
Th'effect whereof did brooke no long delayes,
For when Belshazzar had spun out his dayes.
(Soone cut by that Avengers fatall knife,)
Proud Babels Empire ended with his life.

As when that rare Arabian Bird doth rest
Her bedrid carkase in her Spicy nest,
The quick-devouring fire of heaven consumes
The willing sacrifice in sweet perfumes,
From whose sad cinders (balm'd in fun'rall spices)
A second Phœnix (like the first) arises;
So from the Ruines of great Babels Seat;
The Medes and Persians Monarchy grew great:
For when Belshazzar, last of Babels Kings,
Yeelded to death, (the summe of mortall things)
Like earth-amazing thunder from above,
And lightning from the house of angry Iove,
Or like to billowes in th'Eubœan Seas,
Whose swelling, nought but shipwrack can appease,
So bravely came the fierce Darius on,
Marching with Cyrus into Babylon,
Two Armies Royall stoutly following,
The one was Medes, the other Persia's King:
As when the Harvester with bubling brow.
(Reaping the intrest of his painfull Plough,)
With crooked Sickle now a shock doth sheare,
A handfull here, and then a handfull there,
Not leaving, till he nought but stubble leave;
Here lies a new falne ranke, and there a sheave;
Even so the Persian Host it selfe bestur'd,
So fell great Babel by the Persian Sword,
Which warm with slaughter, & with blood imbru'd,
Ne'r sheath'd till wounded Babel fell subdu'd.

But see! These brave Ioynt-tenants that surviv'd
To see a little world of men unliv'd,
Must now be parted: Great Darius dyes,
And Cyrus shares alone the new-got prize;
He fights for Heaven, Heavens foe men he subdues:
He builds the Temple, he restores the Iewes,

By him was Zedechias force disjoynted,
Vnknowne to God he was, yet Gods Anointed;
But marke the malice of a wayward Fate;
He whom successe crown'd alwayes fortunate,
He that was strong t'atchieve, bold to attempt,
Wise to foresee, and wary to prevent,
Valiant in warre, successefull to obtaine,
Must now be slaine, and by a Woman slaine.

Accursed be thy sacrilegious hand;
That of her Patron tob'd the holy Land;
Curs'd be thy dying life, thy living death,
And curs'd be all things that proud Tomyris hath,

O worst that death can doe, to take a life,
Which (lost) leaves Kingdomes to a Tyrants knife:
For now, alas! degenerate Cambyses
(Whose hand was fill'd with blood, whose hart with vices)
Sits crowned King, to vexe the Persian state,
With heavy burdens, and with sore regrate.
O Cyrus, more unhappy in thy sonne,
Then in that stroke wherewith thy life was done!
Cambyses now fits King, now Tyrant (rather:)
(Vnlucky Sonne of a renowned Father)
Blood cries for Blood: Himselfe revenged hath
His bloody Tyranny with his owne death;
That cruell sword on his owne flesh doth feed,
Which made so many loyall Persians bleed,
Whose wofull choyce made an indiff'rent thing,
To leave their lives, or lose their Tyran King:
Cambyses dead, with him the latest drop
Of Cyrus blood was spilt, his death did stop
The infant source of his brave Syers worth,
Ere after-times could spend his rivers forth.

Tyrant Cambyses being dead and gone,
On the reversion of his empty Throne,

Mounts up a Magus with dissembled right,
Forging the name of him, whose greedy night
Too early did perpetuate her owne,
And silent death had snatcht away unknowne.
But when the tydings of his Royall cheat
Times loyall Trumpe had fam'd, th'usurped seat
Grew too-too hot, and longer could not beare
So proud a burthen on so proud a Chayre;
The Nobles sought their freedome to regaine,
Not resting till the Magi all were slaine;
And so renowned was that happy slaughter,
That it solemniz'd was for ever after;
So that what pen shall write the Persian story,
Shall treat that Triumph, & write that daies glory;
For to this time the Persians (as they say)
Observe a Feast, and keepe it holy-day;
Now Persia lacks a king, and now the State
Labours as much in want, as it of late
Did in abundance; Too great calmes doe harme
Sometimes as much the Sea-man, as a storme;
One while they thinke t'erect a Monarchy;
But that (corrupted) breeds a Tyranny,
And dead Cambyses, fresh before their eyes,
Afrights them with their new-scap'd miseries,
Some to the Nobles would commit the State,
In change of Rule, expecting change of fate;
Others cry'd, no; More Kings then one, incumber;
Better admit one Tyrant, than a number:
The rule of many doth disquiet bring;
One Monarch is enough, one Lord, one King:
One sayes, Let's rule our selves; let's all be Kings:
No, sayes another, that confusion brings;
Thus moderne danger bred a carefull trouble,
Double their care is, as their feare is double;

And doubtfull to resolve of what conclusion,
To barre confusion, thus they bred confusion;
At last (and well advis'd) they put their choyce
Vpon the verdict of a Iuries voyce;
Seven is a perfect number, then by seven,
Be Persia's Royall Crowne, and Scepter given;
Now Persia, doe thy plagues sor joyes commence;
God give thy Iurie sacred evidence:

Fearefull to chuse, and faithlesse in their choyce,
(Since weale or woe depended on their voyce,)
A few from many they extracted forth,
Whose even poys'd valour, and like equall worth
Had set a Non plus on their doubtfull tongues,
Vnweeting where the most reward belongs,
They this agreed, and thus (advis'd) bespake;

Since purblinde mortalls, of themselves, can make
No difference 'twixt good, and evill, nor know
A good from what is onely good in show,
But, with unconstant frailty, dath vary
From what is good, to what is cleane contrary;
And since it lyes not in the braine of man,
To make his drooping state more happy, than
His unprospitious stars allot, much lesse
To lend another, or a state successe,
Jn vaine you, therefore shall expect this thing,
That we should give you fortune, with a King:
Since you have made us meanes to propagate
The joyfull welfare of our beadlesse State,
(Bound by the tender service that we beare
Our native soyle, farre than our lives more deare,)
We sifted haue, and boulted from the Rest,
Whose worst admits no badnesse, and whose best
Cannot be bettered:
When Chaunticleere, (the Belman of the morne)

Shall summon twilight, with his bagle horne,
Let these brave Hero's, drest in warlike wise,
And richly mounted on their Palferies,
Attend our rising Sun-gods ruddy face,
Within the limits of our Royall place,
And he whose lusty Stallion first shall neigh,
To him be given the doubtfull Monarchy,
Thy choyce of Kings lies not in mortals breast,
This we; The Gods, and Fortune doe the rest.

So said, the people tickl'd with the motion,
Some tost their caps some fell to their devotion,
Some clap their joyfull hands, some shout, some sing,
And all at one cry'd out, A King, A King.

When Phœbus Harbinger had chac'd the night,
And tedious Phospher brought the breaking light,
Compleat in armes, and glorious in their traine,
Came these brave Heroes, prancing o're the plaine,
With mighty streamers came these blazing starres,
Portending Warres, (and nothing else but Warrs;
Into the royall Palace now they come:
There sounds the martiall Trump, here beats the Drum,
There stands a Steed, and champes his frothy steele
This stroaks the groūd, that scorns it with his heel;
One snorts, another puffs out angry wind;
This mounts, before; and that curvets, behind;

By this, the fomy Steeds of Phaeton
Puffe too, and spurne the Easterne Horizon:
Whereat the Nobles, prostrate to the ground,
Ador'd their God (their God was early found.)

Forthwith, from out the thickest of the crowd,
In depth of silence, there was heard the loud,
And lustfull language of Darius Horse,
Who in the dialect of his discourse,
Proclaim'd his rider King; whereat the rest

(Patient to beare what cannot be redrest)
Dismount their lofty steeds, and prostrate bring
Their humbled bodies to their happy King;
God save the King, they joyntly say; God blesse
Thy prosprous actions with a due successe;
The people clap their sweaty palmes, and shout,
The bonfires smoake, the bels ring round about,
The minstrels play, the Parrats learne to sing,
(Perchance as well as they) God save the King,
Assuerus now's invested in the throne,,
And Persia's rul'd by him, and him alone;
Prove happy Persia: Great Assuerus prove
As equall happy in thy peoples love.

Enough; And let this broken breviate
Suffice to shadow forth the downfall state
Of mighty Babel, and the conquest made
By the fierce Medes, & Persians conqu'ring blade;
Whose just succession we have traced downe,
Till great Assuerus weare the Persian Crowne;
Him have we sought, and having found him, rest;
To morrow goe we to his royall Feast.

FINIS