CCXXXIX.

Near as he draws, thick harbingers of fmoke,
With gloomy pillars, cover all the place;
Whofe little intervals of night are broke

By fparks that drive against his facred face.
CCXL.

More than his guards his forrows made him known,
And pious tears which down his cheeks did fhow'r:
The wretched in his grief forgot their own;
So much the pity of a king has pow'r.
CCXLI.

He wept the flames of what he lov'd fo well,

And what fo well had merited his love: For never prince in grace did more excel, Or royal city more in duty ftrove.

CCXLII.

Nor with an idle care did he behold;

(Subjects may grieve, but monarchs must redrefs;) He chears the fearful, and commends the bold, And makes defpairers hope for good fucceís. CCXLIII.

Himfelf directs what firft is to be done,

And orders all the fuccours which they bring :
The helpful and the good about him run,
And form an army worthy fuch a king.
CCXLIV.

He fees the dire contagion spread so fast,
That, where it feizes, all relief is vain;

And therefore must unwillingly lay waste

That country, which would, elfe, the foe maintain.
CCXLV.

The powder blows up all before the fire:

Th' amazed flames ftand gather'd on a heap;

And from the precipice's brink retire,
Afraid to venture on fo large a leap.
CCXLVI.

Thus fighting fires a while themselves confume,
But straight, like Turks, forc'd on to win or die,
They first lay tender bridges of their fume,
And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly.
CCXLVII.

Part ftay for paffage, till a guft of wind
Ships o'er their forces in a fhining sheet:
Part, creeping under ground, their journey blind,
And climbing from below, their fellows meet.
CCXLVIII.

Thus, to fome defert plain, or old wood-fide,
Dire night-hags come from far, to dance their round;
And o'er broad rivers on their fiends they ride,
Or fweep in clouds above the blafted ground.
CCXLIX.

No help avails; for, hydra-like, the fire

Lifts up his hundred heads, to aim his way :
And scarce the wealthy can one half retire,
Before he rushes in to fhare the prey.
CCL.

The rich grow fuppliant, and the poor grow proud;
Thofe offer mighty gain, and these afk more:

So void of pity is th' ignoble crowd,

When others ruin may increase their store.
CCLI.

As thofe, who live by fhores, with joy behold
Some wealthy veffel fplit or stranded nigh ;
And from the rocks leap down for fhipwreck'd gold,
And feek the tempefts which the others fly:

CCLII.

So thefe but wait the owners last despair,

And what's permitted to the flames invade; E'en from their jaws the hungry morfels tear, And, on their backs, the fpoils of Vulcan lade. CCLIII.

The days were all in this loft labour spent;

And when the weary king gave place to night,
His beams he to his royal brother lent,

And fo fhone still in his reflective light.
CCLIV.

Night came, but without darkness or repose,
A difmal picture of the gen'ral doom ;
Where fouls diftracted, when the trumpet blows,
And half unready with their bodies, comc.
CCLV.

Thofe, who have homes, when home they do repair,
To a last lodging call their wand'ring friends:
Their fhort uneafy fleeps are broke with care,
To look how near their own deftruction tends.
CCLVI.

Thofe, who have

none,

fit round where once it was,

And with full eyes cach wonted room require : Haunting the yet warm afhes of the place,

As murder'd men walk where they did expire.
CCLVII.

Some fir up coals, and watch the vestal fire,
Others in vain from fight of ruin run;

And, while through burning lab'rinths they retire,
With loathing eyes repeat what they would fhun.

CCLVIII.

The moft, in fields, like herded beafts, lie down,

To dews obnoxious, on the graffy floor;

And, while their babes in fleep their forrows drown,
Sad parents watch the remnants of their store.
CCLIX.

While by the motion of the flames they guess,
What fireets are burning now, and what are near,
An infant, waking, to the paps would prefs,
And meets, inftead of milk, a falling tear.
CCLX.

No thought can eafe them but their Sov'reign's care,
Whose praise th' afflicted as their comfort fing:
E'en thofe, whom want might drive to just despair,
Think life's a blefling under fuch a king.
CCLXI.

Mean time, he fadly fuffers in their grief,
Out-weeps a hermit, and out-prays a faint :
All the long night he ftudies their relief,

How they may be fupply'd, and he may want.
CCLXII.

O God, faid he, thou patron of my days,
Guide of my youth in exile and diftrefs!
Who me unfriended brought'ft, by wond'rous ways,
The kingdom of my fathers to poffefs:
CCLXIII.

Be thou my Judge, with what unwearied care
I fince have labour'd for my people's good;

To bind the bruifes of a civil war,

And ftop the iffues of their wafting blood.
CCLXIV.

Thou, who haft taught me to forgive the ill,
And recompenfe, as friends, the good misled;

* King's prayer.

If mercy be a precept of thy will,

Return that mercy on thy fervant's head.
CCLXV.

Or, if my heedlefs youth has ftepp'd aftray,
Too foon forgetful of thy gracious hand;
On me alone thy juft difpleasure lay,

But take thy judgments from this mourning land.
CCLXVI.

We all have finn'd, and thou haft laid us low,
As humble earth from whence at first we ca me:
Like flying fhades before the clouds we fhew,
And fhrink like parchment in confuming flame.
CCLXVII.

O let it be enough what thou hast done;

When spotted deatlis ran arm'd thro' ev'ry street, With poifon'd darts, which not the good could thun, The fpeedy could out-fly, or valiant meet.

CCLXVIII.

The living few, and frequent funerals then,
Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forfaken place:
And now thofe few, who are return'd again,
Thy fearching judgments to their dwellings trace.
CCLXIX.

O pafs not, Lord, an abfolute decree,

Or bind thy fentence unconditional:
But in thy fentence our remorfe foresee,

And, in that forefight, this thy doom recal.
CCLXX.

Thy threatnings, Lord, as thine, thou may'st revoke;
But, if immutable and fix'd they stand,
Continue ftill thyself to give the stroke,

And let not foreign foes opprefs thy land.