Pofterity is charg'd the more, Because the large abounding ftore To them and to their heirs, is ftill entail'd by thee. Succeffion of a long descent Which chaftely in the channels ran, And from our demi-gods began, Equal almost to time in its extent, Through hazards numberless and great, Thou hast deriv'd this mighty blessing down, And fixt the faireft gem that decks th' imperial crown: Not faction, when it fhook thy regal feat, Not fenates, infolently loud, Thofe echoes of a thoughtless crowd, Could warp thy foul to their unjust decree. Be true, O Clio, to thy hero's name! That all who view, the piece may know; Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish than the Mufe. In feanty truth thou haft confin'd The virtues of a royal mind, Forgiving, bounteous, humble, juft, and kind: His converfation, wit, and parts, His knowledge in the nobleft useful arts, Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive : XII. Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, What wonder if the kindly beams he shed? Reviv'd the drooping arts again, If fcience rais'd her head, And foft humanity that from rebellion fled ? Out of the folar walk and heaven's high way; 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 fow'd, and till'd, The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd, When ftrait a double harvest rose ; Or paradife manur'd and drest by hands divine. XIII. As XIII. As when the new-born phoenix takes his way, Of airy choristers a numerous train So glorious did our Charles return; A gay harmonious quire like angels ever young : The Mufe that mourns him now his happy triumph sung, Ev'n they could thrive in his aufpicious reign; And fuch a plenteous crop they bore Of purest and well-winow'd grain, As Britain never knew before. Though little was their hire, and light their gain, Fed from his hand, they fung and flew, Our patron once, our guardian angel now. Who didft by wife delays divert our fate, Not quitting thy fupreme command, Thou held'ft the rudder with a steady hand, Charg'd with thyfelf and James, a doubly royal fraught. XIV. Oh frail eftate of human things, And flippery hopes below! Now to our coft your emptiness we know : For 'tis a leffon dearly bought, Affure here is never to be fought. The but, and beft-belov'd of kings, When fearce he had cfcap'd the fatal blow Death di his promis'd hopes deftroy: So faints, by fupernatural power fet free, 'Twas grief for Charles, to madnefs wrought, That question'd thy fupreme decree! Thou didit his gracious reign prolong, Twice twelve we number'd fince his bleft return: So |