Principles: And if Poets (as it is often brought for their excuse, when they vary from known History) ought to represent Persons as they ought to be, I have not transcurred the Precepts of Poetry, and _Absalom_ is not so good a Poem, because his Character is not so agreeable to the virtue of an Heroe, as this of _Azaria_ is: But certainly when Poetry and Truth are joyned together, and that the persons are truly what they are represented, and liv'd their Character, the glory is double, both to the Heroe and the Poet: And I could wish, that the same Hand, that drew the Rebellious Son, with so much Ingenuity and Skill, would out do mine, in shewing the virtues of an obedient Son and loyal Counsellor, since he may have as much Truth for a Foundation to build upon, the Artful Structure of the Heroes Glory, with his own Fame and Immortality. AZARIA AND HUSHAI, A POEM. In Impious Times, when Priest-craft was at height, And all the Deadly Sins esteemed light; When that Religion only was a Stale, And some bow'd down to God, and some to _Baal_; When Perjury was scarce esteem'd a Sin, And Vice, like flowing Tides, came rowling in; When Luxury, Debauch, and Concubine, The sad Effects of Women and of Wine, Rag'd in _Judea_ and _Jerusalem_, Good _Amazia_ of great _David_'s Stem, God-like and great in Peace did rule that Land, And all the _Jews_ stoop'd to his just Command. Long now in _Sion_ had he Peace enjoy'd, After that Civil Broils the Land destroy'd: Plenty and Peace attended on his Reign, And _Solomon_'s Golden days return'd again; When the Old _Canaanites_, who there did lurk, Began to find both God and King new Work: For _Amazia_, tho' he God did love, Had not cast out _Baal_'s Priests, and cut down every Grove. Too oft Religion's made pretence for Sin, About it in all Ages Strife has been; But Int'rest, which at bottom doth remain, Which still converts all Godliness to Gain, What e'er Pretence is made, is the true Cause, That moves the Priest, and like the Load-stone draws. The _Canaanites_ of Old that Land possess'd, And long therein Idolatry profess'd; Till Sins of Priests, and of the Common Rout, Caus'd God and his good Kings to cast them out. Their Idols were pull'd down, their Groves destroy'd, Strict Laws against them, and their Worship made. The Heathen Priests were banish'd from the Land Of _Baal_, no Temple suffer'd was to stand; And all Succeeding Kings made it their Care, They should no more rear up their Altars there. If some mild Kings did wink at their Abode, They to the _Jews_ still prov'd a Pricking-goad: Growing more bold, they penal Laws defy'd, And like tormenting Thorns, stuck in their Side. The busy Priests had lost their gainful Trade, Revenge and Malice do then Hearts invade; And since by Force they can't themselves restore, Nor gain the Sway they in _Judea_ bore, With Hell they Joyn their secret Plots to bring Destruction to _Judea_ and its King.