Sweet _Azaria_, like the beauteous Morn,
Whence all Sweets flow, did once that Court adorn,
A budding Rose, whose Beauty's newly blown,
Or like a Cedar on Mount _Lebanon_:
He in his Father's Grace, and Favor grew,
And towards him the People's Eyes he drew.
He was by most belov'd, admir'd by all,
For's Zeal to God, and's Hatred unto _Baal_:
But ah! this mov'd the cursed _Baalite_'s Hate,
Disturb'd his Peace, and Troubles did create.
What can't Design and Hellish Malice do?
With Lyes they close this Noble Prince pursue.
They think his Father too indulgent grown,
Whose Love had many Blessings on him thrown,
But what exceeded all the rest beside,
He chose the sweet _Jerusha_ for his Bride:
A Blessing he esteemed far above
The Crown, and all things but his Father's Love:
For that he still above his Life did prize,
Dear as his Fame, and dearer than his Eyes.
Below his Feet, for that he all things trod,
Adoreing nothing more except his God.
Young as he was, he had acquired Fame,
His Breast infired with a Warlike Flame,
In Foreign Wars, his Courage he had shown,
Had Lawrels won, and brought home fair Renown:
Happy, most happy, till with wondrous Art,
His Foes had wrought him from his Father's Heart;
And so much Power on _Amazia_ won,
He by Degrees, grew jealous of his Son.