VI.

His grandeur he deriv'd from heaven alone;
For he was great ere fortune made him fo:
And wars, like mists that rife against the fun,
Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.

VII.

No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn,
But to our crown he did fresh jewels bring;
Nor was his virtue poison'd soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.

VIII.

Fortune, that easy mistress to the young,
But to her ancient servants coy and hard,
Him at that age her favourites rank'd among,
When the her best-lov'd Pompey did difcard.

IX.

He private mark'd the fault of others' sway,

And fet as fea-marks for himself to shun: Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray By acts their age too late would wish undone.

x.

And yet dominion was not his design;

We owe that blessing, not to him, but heaven, Which to fair acts unfought rewards did join; Rewards, that less to him than us were given.

ΧΙ.

Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war,
First sought t'inflame the parties, then to poise :
The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor;
And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise.

XII.

War, our confumption, was their gainful trade :

We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain; He fought to end our fighting, and effay'd

To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein.

XIII.

Swift and resistless through the land he past,

Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue,

And made to battles such heroic haste,

As if on wings of victory he flew.

XIV.

He fought fecure of fortune as of fame :

Still by new maps the island might be shewn,
Of conquests, which he strew'd where-e'er he came,
Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown.

xv.

His palms, though under weights they did not stand, Still thriv'd; no winter could his laurels fade : Heaven in his portrait shew'd a workman's hand, And drew it perfect, yet without a shade.

XVI.

Peace was the prize of all his toil and care,
Which war had banish'd, and did now restore:
Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air,

To feat themselves more furely than before.

XVII.

Her fafety refcu'd Ireland to him owes;

And treacherous Scotland to no interest true,

Yet bleft that fate which did his arms dispose
Her land to civilize, as to subdue.

Nor XVIII.

Nor was he like those stars which only shine,
When to pale mariners they storms portend:

He had his calmer influence, and his mien
Did love and majesty together blend.

XIX.

'Tis true, his count'nance did imprint an awe; And naturally all fouls to his did bow,

As wands of divination downward draw,

And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow.

xx.

When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove,

He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield;

Succefsful councils did him foon approve

As fit for close intrigues, as open field.

XXI.

To fuppliant Holland he vouchsaf'd a peace,
Our once bold rival of the British main,
Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease,

And buy our friendship with her idol, gain.

XXII.

Fame of th' afferted fea through Europe blown,
Made France and Spain ambitious of his love;

Each knew that fide must conquer he would own;
And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove.

XXIII.

No fooner was the Frenchman's cause embrac'd, Than the light Monfieur the grave Don out-weigh'd : His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas caft; Though Indian mines were in the other laid.

When :

XXIV.

When abfent, yet we conquer'd in his right:

For though some meaner artist's skill were shown

In mingling colours, or in placing light;

Yet still the fair defignment was his own.

XXV.

For from all tempers he could fervice draw;

The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew,

And, as the confident of nature, faw

How the complexions did divide and brew.

XXVI.

Or he their fingle virtues did survey,

By intuition in his own large breast,

Where all the rich ideas of them lay,

That were the rule and measure to the rest.
XXVII.

When fuch heroic virtue heaven fets out,

The stars, like commons, fullenly obey; Because it drains them when it comes about, And therefore is a tax they seldom pay.

XXVIII.

From this high spring our foreign conquests flow,
Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend;
Since their commencement to his arms they owe,
If springs as high as fountains may afcend.

ΧΧΙΧ.

He made us free-men of the continent,
Whom nature did like captives treat before;
To nobler preys the English lion fent,
And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar.
VOL. I.

That xxx.

That old unquestion'd pirate of the land,

Proud Rome with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard;

And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand,

Although an Alexander were her guard.

By his command we boldly cross'd the line,
And bravely fought where southern stars arise;
We trac'd the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine,
And that which brib'd our fathers made our prize.

XXXII.

Such was our prince; yet own'd a foul above
The highest acts it could produce to show :
Thus poor mechanic arts in public move,
Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go.
XXXIII.

Nor dy'd he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live:

He seem'd but to prevent some new success,

As if above what triumphs earth could give.
XXXIV.

His latest victories still thickest came,

As, near the center, motion doth increase;

Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name,
Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease.

XXXV.

But first the ocean as a tribute sent

The giant prince of all her watery herd; And th'ifle, when her protecting genius went, Upon his obfequies loud sighs conferr'd.