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Thou hast deriv'd this mighty blessing down,
And fix'd the fairest gem that decks th' imperial crown.
Not faction, when it shook thy regal seat,
Not senates insolently loud,
(Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd)

Not foreign, or domestic treachery,
Could warp thy soul to their unjust decree.
So much thy foes thy manly mind mistook,
Who judg'd it by the mildness of thy look;
Like a well-temper'd sword it bent at will,
But kept the native roughness of the steel.


Be true, o Clio, to thy hero's name,
But draw him strictly so,
That all who view the piece may know
He needs no trappings of fictitious fame:

330 The load's 100 weighty; thou may'st chuse Some parts of praise, and some refuse: Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish than in scanty truth thou hast confin'd

[the Muse, The virtues of a royal mind, Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind: His conversation, wit, and parts, His knowledge in the noblest, useful arts, Were such dead authors could not give; But habitudes of those who live, Who lighting him did greater lights receive: He drain'd from all, and all they knew ; His apprehension quick, his judgment true;


That the most learn'd with shame confess
His knowledge more, his reading only less.




Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign,
What wonder if the kindly beams he shed
Reviv'd the drooping arts again,
If Science rais'd her head,
And soft Humanity, that from Rebellion fled
Our isle indeed too fruitful was before,
But all uncultivated lay
Out of the solar walk and Heav'n's highway;
With rank Geneva weeds run o'er,
And cockle at the best amidst the corn it bore.
The royal husbandman appear’d,
And plough'd, and sow'd, and tillid;
The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd,
And bless'd th' obedient field;
When straight a double harvest rose,
Such as the swarthy Indian mows,
Or happier climates near the line,
Or Paradise, manur'd and drest by hands divine,



As when the new-born phoenix takes his way,
His rich paternal regions to survey,
Of airy choristers a numerous train
Atiends his wond'rous progress o'er the plain;
So rising from his father's urn,
So glorious did our Charles return.


Th' officious Muses came along,

370 A gay harmonious quire, like angels, eyer young: The Muse that mourns him now his happy triumph Ev'n they could thrive in his auspicious reign, [sung. And such a plenteous crop they bore Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, As Britain never knew before. Tho' little was their hire, and light their gain, Yet somewhat to their share he threw; Fed from his hand, they sung and flew, Like birds of Paradise, that liv'd on morning-dew, Oh never let their lays his name forget! The pension of a prince's praise is great. Live then thou great encourager of arts, Live ever in our thankful hearts; Live bless'd above, almost invok'd below, Live, and receive this pious vow, Our patron once, our guardian angel now, Thou Fabius

a sinking state, Who didst by wise delays divert our fate, When faction, like a tempest, rose

390 In Death's most hideous form, Then Art to rage thou didst oppose To weather out the storm : Not quitting thy supreme command, Thou held'st the rudder with a steady hand, Till safely on the shore the bark did land: The bark that all our blessings brought, Charg'd with thyself and James, a doubly royal fraught,

Oh frail estate of human things,
And slippery hopes below!

Now to our cost your emptiness we know;
(For 'tis a lesson dearly bought)
Assurance here is never to be sought.
The best and best-belov'd of kings,
And best deserving to be so,
When scarce he had escap'd the fatal blow
Of faction and conspiracy,
- Death did his promis'd hopes destroy:
He toil'd, he gain'd, but liv'd not to enjoy.
What mists of Providence are these
Thro' which we cannot see!
So saints, by supernatral pow'r set free,
Are left at last in martyrdom to die:
Such is the end of oft-repeated miracles.
Forgive me, Heav'n, that impious thought;
'Twas grief for Charles, to madness wrought,
That question’d thy supreme decree !
Thou didst his gracious reign prolong,
Even in thy saints' and ángels' wrong,
His fellow-citizens of immortality;

423 For twelve-long years of exile borne, Twice twelve we number'd since his bless'd return: So strictly wert thou just to pay, Es en to the driblet of a day,



Yet still we murmur, and complain
The quails and manna should no longer rain:
Those miracles 'twas needless to renew;
The chosen flock has now the promis'd Land in view.

A warlike prince ascends the regal state,
A prince long exercis'd by Fate :
Long may he keep, tho' he obtains it late!
Heroes in Heay'n's peculiar mould are cast;
They and their poets are not form'd in haste:
Man was the first in God's design, and man was made
False heroes, made by flatt’ry so,

[the last. Heav'n can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow; But, ere a prince is to perfection brought, He costs Omnipotence a second thought. With toil and sweat, With hard’ning cold, and forming heat,

440 The Cyclops did their strokes repeat, Before th' impenetrable shield was wrought. It looks as if the Maker would not own The noble work for his, Before 'twas try'd and found a masterpiece.


View then a monarch ripen’d for a throne.
Alcides thus his race began,
O'er infancy he swiftly ran;
The future god at first was more than man:

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