itors transform to Innocents, Fiends to Saints,
Reason to Nonsence, Truth to Perjury;
Nay, make their own attesting Records lye,
And even the gaping Wounds of Murder whole:
If this last Masterpiece requires a Soul.
Guilt to unmake, and Plots annihilate,
Is much a greater work than to create.
Nay both at once to be, and not to be,
Is such a Task would pose a Deity.
Let _Baal_ do this, and be a God indeed:
Yes, this Immortal Honour 'tis decreed,
His Sanguine Robe though dipt in reeking Gore,
With purity and Innocence all o're,
Shall dry, and spotless from the purple hue,
The Miracle of _Gideons_ Fleece outdo.
Yes, they're resolv'd, in all their foes despight,
To wash their more than _Ethiop_ Treason White.

But now for Heads to manage the Design,
Fit Engineers to labour in this Mine.
For their own hands 'twere fatal to employ:
Should _Baal_ appear, it would _Baals_ Cause destroy.
Alas, should onely their own Trumpets sound
Their Innocence, the jealous Ears around
All Infidels would the loath'd Charmer fly,
And through the Angels voice the Fiend descry.
No, this last game wants a new plotting Set,
And _Israel_ only now can _Israel_ cheat.
In this Machine their profest Foes must move,
Whilst _Baal_ absconding sits in Clouds above,
From whence unseen he guides their bidden way:
For he may prompt, although he must not play.
This to effect a sort of Tools they find,
Devotion-Rovers, an Amphibious Kind,
Of no Religion, yet like Walls of Steel
Strong for the Altars where their Princes kneel.
Imperial not Celestial is their Test,
The Uppermost, indisputably Best.
They always in the golden Chariot rod,
Honour their Heav'n, and Interest their God.

Of these then subtil _Caleb_ none more Great,
_Caleb_ who shines where his lost Father set;
Got by that sire, who not content alone, }
To shade the brightest Jewel in a Crown, }
Preaching Ingratitude t'a Court and Throne; }
But made his Politicks the baneful Root
From whence the springing Woes of _Israel_ shoot,
When his Great Masters fatal _Gordian_ tyed,
He lai'd the barren _Michal_ by his side;
That the ador'd _Absolons_ immortal Line
Might on _Judeas_ Throne for ever shine.
_Caleb_, who does that hardy Pilot make, }
Steering in that Hereditary Track, }
Blind to the Sea-Mark of a Fathers Wrack. }

Next _Jonas_ stands bull-fac'd, but chicken-soul'd,
Who once the silver Sanedrin Controul'd,
Their Gold-tip'd Tongue; Gold his great Councels Bawd: