Thus Hezekiah the torn empire took, And Assur's king with his worse gods forsook; Who to poor Judah worlds of nations brings, There rages, utters vain and mighty things. Some dream of triumphs, and exalted names, Some of dear gold, and some of beauteous dames; Whilst in the midst of their huge sleepy boast, An angel scatters death through all the host. The affrighted tyrant back to Babel hies, There meets an end far worse than that he flies. Here Hezekiah's life is almost done! So good, and yet, alas! so short 'tis spun. The end of the line was ravelled, weak, and old; Time must go back, and afford better hold, To tie a new thread to it of fifteen years. 'Tis done; the almighty power of prayer and tears! Backward the sun, an unknown motion, went; The stars gazed on, and wondered what he meant. Manasses next (forgetful man!) begins, Enslaved and sold to Ashur by his sins; Till by the rod of learned Misery taught, Home to his God and country both he's brought. It taught not Ammon, nor his hardness brake, He's made the example he refused to take. Yet from this root a goodly scion springs, Josiah! best of men, as well as kings. Down went the calves, with all their gold and cost; The priests then truly grieved, Osiris lost. These mad Egyptian rites till now remained; Fools! they their worser thraldom still retained! In his own fires Moloch to ashes fell, And no more flames must have besides his hell. Like end Astartes' horned image found, And Baal's spired stone to dust was ground. No more were men in female habit seen, Or they in men's, by the lewd Syrian queen; No lustful maids at Benos' temple sit, And with their body's shame their marriage get. The double Dagon neither nature saves, Nor flies she back to the Erythraean waves. The travelling sun sees gladly from on high His chariots burn, and Nergal quenched lie. The King's impartial anger lights on all, From fly-blown Accaron to the thundering Baal. Here David's joy unruly grows and bold, Nor could sleep's silken chain its violence hold, Had not the angel, to seal fast his eyes, The humours stirred, and bid more mists arise; When straight a chariot hurries swift away, And in it good Josiah bleeding lay: One hand's held up, one stops the wound; in vain They both are used. Alas! he's slain, he's slain.