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IX. Amidst that filent shower, the royal mind An easy passage found, And left its facred earth behind : Nor murmuring groan exprelt, nor labouring found, Nor any least tumultuous breath; Calm was his life, and quiet was his death, Soft as those gentle whispers were, In which th' Almighty did appear ; By the still voice the prophet knew him there. That
peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine, That peace
thou leav'st to thy imperial line, That peace, oh happy shade, be ever thine !
For all those joys thy restoration brought,
For all the miracles it wrought,
For all the healing balm thy mercy pour’d
Into the nation's bleeding wound,
And care that after kept it sound,
For numerous blessings yearly shower’d,
And property with plenty crown'd;
For freedom, still maintain'd alive,
Freedom which in no other land will thrive,
Freedom, an English subject's sole prerogative,
Without whose charms even peace would be
But a dull quiet slavery :
For these and more, accept our pious praise ;
"Tis all the subsidy
The present age can raise,
The rest is charg'd on late posterity.
Posterity is charg'd the more,
Because the large abounding store
To them and to their heirs, is still entail'd by thee.
Succession of a long descent
Which chastely in the channels ran,
And from our demi-gods began,
Equal almost to timne in its extent,
Through hazards numberless and great,
Thou haft deriv'd this mighty blessing down,
And fixt the fairelt gem that decks th’ imperial crown :
Not faction, when it shook thy regal seat,
Not fenates, infolently loud,
Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd,
Not foreign or doinestic treachery,
Could warp thy foul 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 toughness of the steel.
Be true, o Clio, to thy hero's name!
But draw him ftri&tly fo,
That all who view, the piece may know;
He needs no trappings of fictitious fame:
The load 's too weighty : thou may'st chufe
Some parts of praise, and some sefuse :
Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish than
In scanty truth thou hast confin'd
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 apprehenfion 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 ?
Reviy'd the drooping arts again,
If science rais'd her head,
And soft humanity that from rebellion filed ?
Our ille, indeed, too fruitful was before;
But all uncultivated lay
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 sow'd, and tillid,
The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd,
And blest th' obedient field.
When frait a double harvest rose;
Such as the swarthy Indian mows;
Or happier climates near the line,
Or paradise inanur'd and drest by hands divine.
XIII. As when the new-born phoenix takes his way, His rich paternal regions to furvey, Of airy choristers a numerous train Attend his wondrous progress o’er the plain; So, rising from his father's urn, So glorious did our Charles return; Th' officious Muses came along, A gay harmonious quire like angels ever young : The Muse that mourns him now his happy triumph fung, Ev’n they could thrive in his auspicious reign; And such 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, Yet somewhat to their Mare 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 blest above, alınost invok'd below; Live and receive this pious vow, Our patron once, our guardian angel now. Thou Fabius of a sinking state, Who didit by wise delays divert our fate, When faction like a tempest rose, In death's most hideous form, Then art to rage thou didst oppose, To weather out the itcım : X 4
Not quitting thy supreme command,
Thou held'st the rudder with a steady hand,
Till safely on the more 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 flippery hopes below!
Now to our cost your emptiness we know :
For 'tis a lesson dearly bought,
Assurance here is never to be fought.
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 mifts of Providence are these
Through which we cannot see !
So faints, by supernatural power set free,
Are left at last in martyrdom to die;
Such is the end of oft-repeated miracles.
Forgive me, heaven, that impious thought,
'Twas grief for Charles, to madnefs wrought,
That question’d thy supreme decree !
Thou did it his gracious reign prolong,
Evin in thy saints and angels wrong,
His fellow-citzens of immortality :
For twelve long years of exile borne,
Twice twelve we number'd since his blest retuu'n :