_BENTIR_ in the Inglorious Roll the first, _Bentir_ to this and future Ages curst, Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud, Shun'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 do's _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 Grandfathers 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 Antient 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 _Hebrew_'s murder'd in their hoarser Throats; How ill their Tongues agree with _Jewish Notes_! Their untun'd Prattle do's our Sense confound, Which in our Princely Palaces do's 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?