Thus, noble Prince, they you and me accuse
With all the Venome Malice can infuse.
_Baal_'s Priests, Hell, and our Foes, new Arts have got,
The filthy Reliques of their former Plot;
Whereby they would our Lives in danger bring,
And make us cursed Traytors to the King.
What mayn't these cunning men hope to atchieve,
When by their Arts few men their Plot believe?
When b'horrid ways, not known to _Jews_ before,
Their Plot's transform'd, and laid now at our door?
But fear not, Sir, we have a sure Defence,
The Peoples Love, God, Law, and Innocence.
Keep fast your Vertue, and you shall be blest,
And let alone to God and Time the rest.
The Noble Youth, with Vertues Robes arrai'd,
Consider'd well what the wise _Hushai_ said.
Desire of Power, though of Celestial Birth,
Below, is ever intermixt with Earth:
And all who do to hight of Place aspire,
Have earthly Smoak mixt with their mounting Fire.
Praise may debauch, and strong Ambition blind,
Where heav'nly Vertue does not guard the Mind.
But _Azaria_ so well understood,
He left the Evil, and embrac'd the Good:
Tho in his breast aspiring thoughts he found,
Yet Loyalty still kept them within bound.
And tho he might have Empire in his Eye,
When to it by his bloud allay'd so nigh,
Yet in his Soul such Virtue did remain,
He by Rebellion would not Empire gain.