And laid upon their necks a gentler Yoke. Amongst that Tribe he left an hated Name, And to _Jerusalem_ from thence he came, Where he tyrannick Arts sought to intrude, } To learn which, _Amazia_ was too good, } And better the _Jews_ temper understood. } Refus'd, the Serpent did with Woman joyn, And Counsels gave th'_Egyptian_ Concubine. _Adam_, first Monarch, fell between these two; What can't the Serpent and a Woman do? These with some more of the like size and sort, In _Sion_ made up _Amazia_'s Court: Whilst his best friends became these Rulers scorn, Saw how they drove, and did in silence mourn. _Sion_ did then no Sacrifice afford; _Gibbar_ had taught the frugal King to board. Void were its Cellars, Kitchins never hot, And all the Feasts of _Solomon_ forgot. Others there were, whose Names I shan't repeat; _Eliakim_ had friends both small and great: And many, who then for his Favour strove, With their hot heads, like furious _Jehu_, drove. Some Wits, some Witless, Warriors, Rich and Poor, Some who rich Clothes and empty Titles wore; Some who knew how to rail, some to accuse, And some who haunted Taverns and the Stews. Some roaring Bullies, who ran th'row the Town Crying, God damn 'um, they'd support the Crown: Whose wicked Oaths, and whose blasphemous Rant, Had quite put down the holy zealous Cant. Some were for War, and some on Mischief bent; And some who could, for gain, new Plots invent. Some Priests and Levites too among the rest, Such as knew how to blow the Trumpet best: Who with loud noise and cackling, cri'd like Geese, For Rites, for Temple, and for dearer Fleece. 'Twixt God and _Baal_, these Priests divided were; } Which did prevail, these greatly did not care; } But headlong drove, without or wit or fear. } The _Pharasees_ they curse, as Sons of _Cham,_ And all dissenting _Jews_ to Hell they damn. _Shimei_ the Poet Laureate of that Age, The falling Glory of the _Jewish_ Stage, Who scourg'd the Priest, and ridicul'd the Plot, Like common men must not be quite forgot. Sweet was the Muse that did his wit inspire, Had he not let his hackney Muse to hire: But variously his knowing Muse could sing, Could _Doeg_ praise, and could blaspheme the King: The bad make good, good bad, and bad make worse, Bless in Heroicks, and in Satyrs curse. _Shimei_ to _Zabed_'s praise could tune his Muse, And Princely _Azaria_ could abuse. _Zimri_ we know he had no cause to praise, Because he dub'd him with the name of _Bays_. Revenge on him did bitter Venome shed, Because he tore the Lawrel from his head; Because he durst with his proud Wit engage, And brought his Follies on the publick Stage. Tell me, _Apollo_, for I can't divine, Why Wives he curs'd, and prais'd the Concubine; Unless it were that he had led his life With a teeming Matron ere _she_ was a Wife: Or that it best with his dear Muse did sute, Who was for hire a very Prostitute. The rising Sun this Poets God did seem, Which made him tune's old Harp to praise _Eliakim_.