Illustrious youth! returned Achitophel,
  Misconstrue not the words that mean you well;
  The course you steer I worthy blame conclude,
  But ’tis because you leave it unpursued. 
  A monarch’s crown with fate surrounded lies,
  Who reach, lay hold on death that miss the prize. 
  Did you for this expose yourself to show, 190
  And to the crowd bow popularly low? 
  For this your glorious progress next ordain,
  With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train? 
  With fame before you, like the morning star,
  And shouts of joy saluting from afar? 
  Oh, from the heights you’ve reach’d but take a view,
  Scarce leading Lucifer could fall like you! 
  And must I here my shipwreck’d arts bemoan? 
  Have I for this so oft made Israel groan? 
  Your single interest with the nation weigh’d, 200
  And turn’d the scale where your desires were laid;
  Even when at helm a course so dangerous moved
  To land your hopes, as my removal proved.—­

   I not dispute, the royal youth replies,
  The known perfection of your policies;
  Nor in Achitophel yet grudge or blame
  The privilege that statesmen ever claim;
  Who private interest never yet pursued,
  But still pretended ’twas for others good: 
  What politician yet e’er ’scaped his fate, 210
  Who, saving his own neck, not saved the state? 
  From hence, on every humorous wind that veer’d,
  With shifted sails a several course you steer’d. 
  What form of sway did David e’er pursue,
  That seem’d like absolute, but sprung from you? 
  Who at your instance quash’d each penal law,
  That kept dissenting factious Jews in awe;
  And who suspends fix’d laws, may abrogate,
  That done, form new, and so enslave the state. 
  Even property whose champion now you stand, 220
  And seem for this the idol of the land,
  Did ne’er sustain such violence before,
  As when your counsel shut the royal store;
  Advice, that ruin to whole tribes procured,
  But secret kept till your own banks secured. 
  Recount with this the triple covenant broke,
  And Israel fitted for a foreign yoke;
  Nor here your counsel’s fatal progress stay’d,
  But sent our levied powers to Pharaoh’s aid. 
  Hence Tyre and Israel, low in ruins laid, 230
  And Egypt, once their scorn, their common terror made. 
  Even yet of such a season can we dream,
  When royal rights you made your darling theme. 
  For power unlimited could reasons draw,
  And place prerogative above the law;
  Which, on your fall from office, grew unjust,
  The laws made king, the king a slave in trust: 
  Whom with state-craft, to interest only true,
  You now accuse of ills contrived by you.