The
Poor
Man's
Lamb
:
OR
,
Nathan's
Parable
to
David
after
the
Murder
of
Uriah
,
and
his
Marriage
with
Bathsheba
.
Turn'd
into
Verse
and
Paraphras'd
.
NOW
spent
the
alter'd
King
,
in
am'rous
Cares
,
The
Hours
of
sacred
Hymns
and
solemn
Pray'rs
:
In
vain
the
Altar
waits
his
slow
returns
,
Where
unattended
Incense
faintly
burns
:
In
vain
the
whisp'ring
Priests
their
Fears
express
,
And
of
the
Change
a
thousand
Causes
guess
.
Heedless
of
all
their
Censures
He
retires
,
And
in
his
Palace
feeds
his
secret
Fires
;
Impatient
,
till
from
Rabbah
Tydings
tell
,
That
near
those
Walls
the
poor
Uriah
fell
,
Led
to
the
Onset
by
a
Chosen
Few
,
Who
at
the
treacherous
Signal
,
soon
withdrew
,
Nor
to
his
Rescue
e'er
return'd
again
,
Till
by
fierce
Ammon's
Sword
they
saw
the
Victim
slain
.
'Tis
pass'd
,
'tis
done
!
the
holy
Marriage-Knot
,
Too
strong
to
be
unty'd
,
at
last
is
cut
.
And
now
to
Bathsheba
the
King
declares
,
That
with
his
Heart
,
the
Kingdom
too
is
hers
;
That
Israel's
Throne
,
and
longing
Monarch's
Arms
Are
to
be
fill'd
but
with
her
widow'd
Charms
.
Nor
must
the
Days
of
formal
Tears
exceed
,
To
cross
the
Living
,
and
abuse
the
Dead
.
This
she
denies
;
and
signs
of
Grief
are
worn
;
But
mourns
no
more
than
may
her
Face
adorn
,
Give
to
those
Eyes
,
which
Love
and
Empire
fir'd
,
A
melting
Softness
more
to
be
desir'd
;
Till
the
fixt
Time
,
tho'
hard
to
be
endur'd
,
Was
pass'd
,
and
a
sad
Consort's
Name
procur'd
:
When
,
with
the
Pomp
that
suits
a
Prince's
Thought
,
By
Passion
sway'd
,
and
glorious
Woman
taught
,
A
Queen
she's
made
,
than
Michal
seated
higher
,
Whilst
light
unusual
Airs
prophane
the
hallow'd
Lyre
.
Where
art
thou
Nathan
?
where's
that
Spirit
now
,
Giv'n
to
brave
Vice
,
tho'
on
a
Prince's
Brow
?
In
what
low
Cave
,
or
on
what
Desert
Coast
,
Now
Virtue
wants
it
,
is
thy
Presence
lost
?
But
lo
!
he
comes
,
the
Rev'rend
Bard
appears
,
Defil'd
with
Dust
his
awful
silver
Hairs
,
And
his
rough
Garment
,
wet
with
falling
Tears
.
The
King
this
mark'd
,
and
conscious
wou'd
have
fled
,
The
healing
Balm
which
for
his
Wounds
was
shed
:
Till
the
more
wary
Priest
the
Serpents
Art
,
Join'd
to
the
Dove-like
Temper
of
his
Heart
,
And
thus
retards
the
Prince
just
ready
now
to
part
.
Hear
me
,
the
Cause
betwixt
two
Neighbours
hear
,
Thou
,
who
for
Justice
dost
the
Sceptre
bear
:
Help
the
Opprest
,
nor
let
me
weep
alone
For
him
,
that
calls
for
Succour
from
the
Throne
.
Good
Princes
for
Protection
are
Ador'd
,
And
Greater
by
the
Shield
,
than
by
the
Sword
.
This
clears
the
Doubt
,
and
now
no
more
he
fears
The
Cause
his
Own
,
and
therefore
stays
and
hears
:
When
thus
the
Prophet
:
—
—
In
a
flow'ry
Plain
A
King-like
Man
does
in
full
Plenty
reign
;
Casts
round
his
Eyes
,
in
vain
,
to
reach
the
Bound
,
Which
Jordan's
Flood
sets
to
his
fertile
Ground
:
Countless
his
Flocks
,
whilst
Lebanon
contains
A
Herd
as
large
,
kept
by
his
numerous
Swains
,
That
fill
with
morning
Bellowings
the
cool
Air
,
And
to
the
Cedar's
shade
at
scorching
Noon
repair
.
Near
to
this
Wood
a
lowly
Cottage
stands
,
Built
by
the
humble
Owner's
painful
Hands
;
Fenc'd
by
a
Stubble-roof
,
from
Rain
and
Heat
,
Secur'd
without
,
within
all
Plain
and
Neat
.
A
Field
of
small
Extent
surrounds
the
Place
,
In
which
One
single
Ewe
did
sport
and
graze
:
This
his
whole
Stock
,
till
in
full
time
there
came
,
To
bless
his
utmost
Hopes
,
a
snowy
Lamb
;
Which
,
lest
the
Season
yet
too
Cold
might
prove
,
And
Northern
Blasts
annoy
it
from
the
Grove
,
Or
tow'ring
Fowl
on
the
weak
Prey
might
sieze
,
(
For
with
his
Store
his
Fears
must
too
increase
)
He
brings
it
Home
,
and
lays
it
by
his
Side
,
At
once
his
Wealth
,
his
Pleasure
and
his
Pride
;
Still
bars
the
Door
,
by
Labour
call'd
away
,
And
,
when
returning
at
the
Close
of
Day
,
With
One
small
Mess
himself
,
and
that
sustains
,
And
half
his
Dish
it
shares
,
and
half
his
slender
Gains
.
When
to
the
great
Man's
Table
now
there
comes
A
Lord
as
great
,
follow'd
by
hungry
Grooms
:
For
these
must
be
provided
sundry
Meats
,
The
Best
for
Some
,
for
Others
coarser
Cates
.
One
Servant
,
diligent
above
the
rest
To
help
his
Master
to
contrive
the
Feast
,
Extols
the
Lamb
was
nourish'd
with
such
Care
,
So
fed
,
so
lodg'd
,
it
must
be
Princely
Fare
;
And
having
this
,
my
Lord
his
own
may
spare
.
In
haste
he
sends
,
led
by
no
Law
,
but
Will
,
Not
to
entreat
,
or
purchase
,
but
to
Kill
.
The
Messenger's
arriv'd
;
the
harmless
Spoil
,
Unus'd
to
fly
,
runs
Bleating
to
the
Toil
:
Whilst
for
the
Innocent
the
Owner
fear'd
,
And
,
sure
wou'd
move
,
cou'd
Poverty
be
heard
.
Oh
spare
(
he
cries
)
the
Product
of
my
Cares
,
My
Stock's
Encrease
,
the
Blessing
on
my
Pray'rs
;
My
growing
Hope
,
and
Treasure
of
my
Life
!
More
was
he
speaking
,
when
the
murd'ring
Knife
Shew'd
him
,
his
Suit
,
tho'
just
,
must
be
deny'd
,
And
the
white
Fleece
in
its
own
Scarlet
dy'd
;
Whilst
the
poor
helpless
Wretch
stands
weeping
by
,
And
lifts
his
Hands
for
Justice
to
the
Sky
.
Which
he
shall
find
,
th'
incensed
King
replies
,
When
for
the
proud
Offence
th'
Oppressor
dies
.
O
Nathan
!
by
the
Holy
Name
I
swear
,
Our
Land
such
Wrongs
unpunish'd
shall
not
bear
If
,
with
the
Fault
,
th'
Offender
thou
declare
.
To
whom
the
Prophet
,
closing
with
the
Time
,
Thou
art
the
Man
replies
,
and
thine
th'
ill-natur'd
Crime
.
Nor
think
,
against
thy
Place
,
or
State
,
I
err
;
A
Pow'r
above
thee
does
this
Charge
prefer
;
Urg'd
by
whose
Spirit
,
hither
am
I
brought
T'
expostulate
his
Goodness
,
and
thy
Fault
;
To
lead
thee
back
to
those
forgotten
Years
,
In
Labour
spent
,
and
lowly
Rustick
Cares
,
When
in
the
Wilderness
thy
Flocks
but
few
,
Thou
didst
the
Shepherd's
simple
Art
pursue
Thro'
crusting
Frosts
,
and
penetrating
Dew
:
Till
wondring
Jesse
saw
six
Brothers
past
,
And
Thou
Elected
,
Thou
the
Least
and
Last
;
A
Sceptre
to
thy
Rural
Hand
convey'd
,
And
in
thy
Bosom
Royal
Beauties
laid
;
A
lovely
Princess
made
thy
Prize
that
Day
,
When
on
the
shaken
Ground
the
Giant
lay
Stupid
in
Death
,
beyond
the
Reach
of
Cries
That
bore
thy
shouted
Fame
to
list'ning
Skies
,
And
drove
the
flying
Foe
as
fast
away
,
As
Winds
,
of
old
,
Locusts
to
Egypt's
Sea
.
Thy
Heart
with
Love
,
thy
Temples
with
Renown
,
Th'
All-giving
Hand
of
Heav'n
did
largely
crown
,
Whilst
yet
thy
Cheek
was
spread
with
youthful
Down
.
What
more
cou'd
craving
Man
of
God
implore
?
Or
what
for
favour'd
Man
cou'd
God
do
more
?
Yet
cou'd
not
These
,
nor
Israel's
Throne
,
suffice
Intemp'rate
Wishes
,
drawn
thro'
wand'ring
Eyes
.
One
Beauty
(
not
thy
own
)
and
seen
by
chance
,
Melts
down
the
Work
of
Grace
with
an
alluring
Glance
;
Chases
the
Spirit
,
fed
by
sacred
Art
,
And
blots
the
Title
AFTER
GOD's
OWN
HEART
;
Black
Murder
breeds
to
level
at
his
Head
,
Who
boasts
so
fair
a
Part'ner
of
his
Bed
,
Nor
longer
must
possess
those
envy'd
Charms
,
The
single
Treasure
of
his
House
,
and
Arms
:
Giving
,
by
this
thy
Fall
,
cause
to
Blaspheme
To
all
the
Heathen
the
Almighty
Name
.
For
which
the
Sword
shall
still
thy
Race
pursue
,
And
,
in
revolted
Israel's
scornful
View
,
Thy
captiv'd
Wives
shall
be
in
Triumph
led
Unto
a
bold
Usurper's
shameful
Bed
;
Who
from
thy
Bowels
sprung
shall
seize
thy
Throne
,
And
scourge
thee
by
a
Sin
beyond
thy
own
.
Thou
hast
thy
Fault
in
secret
Darkness
done
;
But
this
the
World
shall
see
before
the
Noonday's
Sun
.
Enough
!
the
King
,
enough
!
the
Saint
replies
,
And
pours
his
swift
Repentance
from
his
Eyes
;
Falls
on
the
Ground
,
and
tears
the
Nuptial
Vest
,
By
which
his
Crime's
Completion
was
exprest
:
Then
with
a
Sigh
blasting
to
Carnal
Love
,
Drawn
deep
as
Hell
,
and
piercing
Heaven
,
above
Let
Me
(
he
cries
)
let
Me
attend
his
Rod
,
For
I
have
sinn'd
,
for
I
have
lost
my
God
.
Hold
!
(
says
the
Prophet
)
of
that
Speech
beware
,
God
ne'er
was
lost
,
unless
by
Man's
Despair
.
The
Wound
that
is
thus
willingly
reveal'd
,
Th'
Almighty
is
as
willing
shou'd
be
heal'd
.
Thus
wash'd
in
Tears
,
thy
Soul
as
fair
does
show
As
the
first
Fleece
,
which
on
the
Lamb
does
grow
,
Or
on
the
Mountain's
top
the
lately
fallen
Snow
.
Yet
to
the
World
that
Justice
may
appear
Acting
her
Part
impartial
,
and
severe
,
The
Offspring
of
thy
Sin
shall
soon
resign
That
Life
,
for
which
thou
must
not
once
repine
;
But
with
submissive
Grief
his
Fate
deplore
,
And
bless
the
Hand
,
that
does
inflict
no
more
.
Shall
I
then
pay
but
Part
,
and
owe
the
Whole
?
My
Body's
Fruit
,
for
my
offending
Soul
?
Shall
I
no
more
endure
(
the
King
demands
)
And
'scape
thus
lightly
his
offended
Hands
?
Oh
!
let
him
All
resume
,
my
Crown
,
my
Fame
;
Reduce
me
to
the
Nothing
,
whence
I
came
;
Call
back
his
Favours
,
faster
than
he
gave
;
And
,
if
but
Pardon'd
,
strip
me
to
my
Grave
:
Since
(
tho'
he
seems
to
Lose
)
He
surely
Wins
,
Who
gives
but
earthly
Comforts
for
his
Sins
.