But _Bentir_, not Content with such Command, To canton out the _Jewish_ Nation's Land; He do's 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 do's _Israel_'s Land afford? } What Power has made the famous _Bentir_ Lord? } The Peoples Voice, and _Sanhedrim_'s 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 cou'd 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 dang'rous 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 Antient 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 Antient Honours own, By slavish _Gibeonites_ you are outdone: Or else your Antient 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. _THE END._ * * * * * THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY University of California, Los Angeles