[10]
Why then should I, Encouraging the Bad,
Turn Rebel, and run Popularly Mad?
Were he a Tyrant who, by Lawless Might,
Opprest the Jews, and rais'd the Jebusite,
Well might I Mourn; but Natures holy Bands
Woud Curb my Spirits, and restrain my Hands:
The People might assert their Liberty;
But what was Right in them, were Crime in me.
His Favour leaves me nothing to require;
Prevents my Wishes, and out-runs Desire;
What more can I expect while David lives?
All but his Kingly Diadem he gives:
And that: But there he paus'd; then Sighing, said,
Is Justly destin'd for a Worthier Head.
For when my Father from his Toyls shall Rest,
And late Augment the Number of the Blest:
His Lawful Issue shall the Throne ascend;
Or the Collat'ral Line where that shall end.
His Brother, though Opprest with Vulgar Spight,
Yet Dauntless and Secure of Native Right,
Of every Royal Vertue stands possest;
Still dear to all the Bravest, and the Best.
His Courage Foes, his Friends his Truth Proclaim;
His Loyalty the King, the World his Fame.
His Mercy ev'n th' Offending Croud will find:
For sure he comes of a Forgiving Kind.
Why should I then Repine at Heavens Decree;
Which gives me no Pretence to Royalty?
Yet oh that Fate, Propitiously Inclin'd,
Had rais'd my Birth, or had debas'd my Mind;
To my large Soul, not all her Treasure lent,
And then betrai'd it to a mean Discent.
I find, I find my mounting Spirits Bold,
And David's Part disdains my Mothers Mold.
Why am I scanted by a Niggard-Birth?
My Soul disclaims the Kindred of her Earth:
And made for Empire, Whispers, me within;
Desire of Greatness is a God-like Sin.
Turn Rebel, and run Popularly Mad?
Were he a Tyrant who, by Lawless Might,
Opprest the Jews, and rais'd the Jebusite,
Well might I Mourn; but Natures holy Bands
Woud Curb my Spirits, and restrain my Hands:
The People might assert their Liberty;
But what was Right in them, were Crime in me.
His Favour leaves me nothing to require;
Prevents my Wishes, and out-runs Desire;
What more can I expect while David lives?
All but his Kingly Diadem he gives:
And that: But there he paus'd; then Sighing, said,
Is Justly destin'd for a Worthier Head.
For when my Father from his Toyls shall Rest,
And late Augment the Number of the Blest:
His Lawful Issue shall the Throne ascend;
Or the Collat'ral Line where that shall end.
His Brother, though Opprest with Vulgar Spight,
Yet Dauntless and Secure of Native Right,
Of every Royal Vertue stands possest;
Still dear to all the Bravest, and the Best.
His Courage Foes, his Friends his Truth Proclaim;
His Loyalty the King, the World his Fame.
His Mercy ev'n th' Offending Croud will find:
For sure he comes of a Forgiving Kind.
Why should I then Repine at Heavens Decree;
Which gives me no Pretence to Royalty?
Yet oh that Fate, Propitiously Inclin'd,
Had rais'd my Birth, or had debas'd my Mind;
To my large Soul, not all her Treasure lent,
And then betrai'd it to a mean Discent.
I find, I find my mounting Spirits Bold,
And David's Part disdains my Mothers Mold.
Why am I scanted by a Niggard-Birth?
My Soul disclaims the Kindred of her Earth:
And made for Empire, Whispers, me within;
Desire of Greatness is a God-like Sin.
Him
