Thus far my mufe, tho' rudely, has defign'd Tho' that's a term too mean and low; The bleft above a kinder word may know : The militant who ftaid, Like painters, when their heightning arts are fpent, I caft into a fhade. That all-forgiving King, Himself to his next felf accus'd, And af'd that pardon which he ne'er refus'd: For faults not his, for guilt and crimes Of godlefs men, and of rebellious times: When his ungrateful country fent Their best Camillus into banishment: And forc'd their fovereign's act, they could not his confent. Oh how much rather had that injur'd chief Repeated all his fufferings paft! Than hear a pardon begg'd at laff, Which giv'n could give the dying no relief: His dauntless heart would fain have held So weak, fo womanish a woe, Which yet the brother and the friend foplenteoufly confeff. IX. Amida IX. Amidst that filent fhower, the royal mind. An eafy paffage found, And left its facred earth behind : Nor murmuring groan expreft, nor labouring found, leaft tumultuous breath; Nor any Calm was his life, and quiet was his death. In which th' Almighty did appear ; By the ftill voice the prophet knew him there. That peace which made thy profperous reign to shine, X. For all thofe joys thy restoration brought, For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd And care that after kept it found, Freedom which in no other land will thrive, For thefe and more, accept our pious praise; The prefent age can raise, The reft is charg'd on late pofterity. Pofterity is charg'd the more, Because the large abounding store To them and to their heirs, is ftill entail'd by thee. Succeffion of a long defcent Which chastely in the channels ran, Thou haft deriv'd this mighty bleffing 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 croud, Could warp thy foul to their unjust decree. XI. 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 fcanty truth thou haft confin'd Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind: His converfation, wit, and parts, His knowledge in the nobleft ufeful arts, Were fuch, dead authors could not give; Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive: That That the most learn'd, with fhame, confefs Amidft the peaceful triumphs of his reign, 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: And plough'd, and fow'd, and till'd, The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd, And bleft the obedient field. When ftrait a double harvest rose; Such as the fwarthy Indian mows; Or paradife manur'd, and dreft by hands divine, XIII. As when the new-born Phoenix takes his way, So glorious did our Charles return; A gay harmonious quire like angels ever young: Of pureft and well winow'd grain, As Britain never knew before. Tho' little was their hire, and light their gain, T 4 Yet Yet fomewhat to their fhare he threw ; Like birds of Paradife that liv'd on morning dew. Live bleft above, almost invok'd below; Our patron once, our guardian angel now. Who didft by wife delays divert our fate, In death's moft hideous form, Not quitting thy fupreme command, Charg'd with thyself and James, a doubly royal fraught. Oh frail eftate of human things, And flippery hopes below! Now to our coft your emptiness we know, For 'tis a leffon dearly bought, Affurance here is never to be fought, The beft, and beft belov'd of Kings, And beft deferving to be so, When scarce he had efcap'd the fatal blow Of faction and confpiracy, Death did his promis'd hopes destroy: He toil'd, he gain'd, hut liv'd not to enjoy. Thro' which we cannot fee! So faints, by fupernatural power fet free, |