There Asa, good and great, the sceptre bears,
Justice attends his peace, success his wars:
While Virtue was his sword, and Heaven his shield,
Without controul the warrior swept the field;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy sons sad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But since thy flagging piety decay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs, nor healthful arts avail thee now,
Nor is Heaven chang'd, apostate prince, but Thou.
No mean atonement does this lapse require;
But see the Son, you must forgive the Sire:
He, the just prince — with every virtue blest,
He reign'd, and goodness all the man possest,
Around his throne, fair happiness and peace
Smooth'd every brow, and smil'd in every face.
As when along the burning waste he stray'd,
Where no pure streams in bubbling mazes play'd,
Where drought incumbent on the thirsty ground,
Long since had breath'd her scorching blasts around;
The prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair
To the parch'd fields, for Josaphat was there.
The new-sprung waves, in many a gurgling vein,
Trickle luxurious thro' the sucking plain;
Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn,
And o'er the desart Plenty pours her horn.
So, from the throne his influence he sheds,
And bids the Virtues raise their languid heads:
Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails,
Oppression flies, and Justice lifts her scales.
See, on his arm, the royal eagle stand,
Great type of conquest and supreme command;
Th' exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings,
And greets the Monarch with expanded wings.
Fierce Moab's sons prevent th' impending blow,
Rush on themselves, and sall without the foe.
The pious Hero vanquish'd Heaven by prayer;
His faith an army, and his vows a war.
Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent blest,
And thy days shone, in fairest actions drest;
Till that rash hand; by some blind frenzy sway'd,
Unclean, the sacred office durst invade.
Quick o'er thy limbs the surfy venom ran,
And hoary filth besprinkled all the man.