Whither wouldst thou further look?
Read William's acts, and close the ample book:
Perufe the wonders of his dawning life:
How, like Alcides, he began;
With infant patience calm'd feditious strife;
And quell'd the snakes which round his cradle ram
Describe his youth, attentive to alarms,
By dangers form'd, and perfected in arms:
When conquering, mild; when conquer'd, net dif
By wrongs not lessen'd, nor by triumphs rais'd:
Superior to the blind events
Of little human accidents;
And conftant to his first decree,
To curb the proud, to set the injur' free;
To bow the haughty neck, and raise the suppliant
His opening years to riper manhood brings
And fee the hero perfect in the king:
Imperious arms by manly reason sway'd,
And power supreme by free consent obey'd;
With how much haste his mercy meets his foes,
And how unbounded his forgiveness flows;
With what defire he makes his subjects blefs'd,
His favours granted ere his throne address'd:
What trophies o'er our captiv'd hearts he rears,
arts of peace more potent, than by wars:
How o'er himself as o'er the world he reigns, His morals strengthening what his law ordains.
Through all his thread of life already fpun,
Becoming grace and proper action run :
The piece by Virtue's equal hand is wrought,
Mixt with no crime, and fhaded with no fault;
No footsteps of the victor's rage
Left in the camp where William did engage:
No tincture of the monarch's pride
Upon the royal purple spy'd:
His fame, like gold, the more 'tis try'd,
The more shall its intrinfic worth proclaim;
Shall pafs the combat of the fearching flame,
And triumph o'er the vanquisi'd heat,
For ever coming out the fame,
And lofing nor its luftre nor its weight.
Janus, be to William just;
To faithful History his actions trust:
Command her, with peculiar care
To trace each toil, and comment every war:
His faving wonders bid her write
In characters distinctly bright;
That each revolving age may read
The Patriot's piety, the Hero's deed :
And still the fire inculcate to his fon
Transmissive lessons of the king's renown;
That William's glory still may live;
When all that present art can give,
The pillar'd marble, and the tablet brass,
Mouldering, drop the victor's praife:
When the great monuments of his power
Shall now be visible no more :
When Sambre shall have chang'd her winding flood;
And children ask, where Namur stood.
Namur, proud city, how her towers were arm'd!
How the contemn'd th' approaching foe !
Till the by William's trumpets was alarm'd,
And shook, and funk, and fell beneath his blow.
Jove and Pallas, mighty powers,
Guided the hero to the hoftile towers.
Perfeus feem'd less swift in war,
When, wing'd with speed, he flew through air.
Embattled nations strive in vain
The Hero's glory to restrain :
Streams arm'd with rocks, and mountains red with fire,
In vain against his force confpire.
Behold him from the dreadful height appear !
And lo! Britannia's lions waving there.
Europe freed, and France repell'd,
The Hero from the height beheld:
He fpake the word, that war and rage should ceafe;
He bid the Maese and Rhine in safety flow;
And dictated a lasting peace
To the rejoicing world below.
To rescued states, and vindicated crowns,
His equal hand prefcrib'd their ancient bounds;
Ordain'd, whom every province should obey;
How far each monarch should extend his sway;
Taught them how clemency made power rever'd;
And that the prince belov'd was truly fear'd.
Firm by his fide unspotted Honour stood,
Pleas'd to confefs him not fo great as good :
His head with brighter beams fair Virtue deck'd,
Than those which all his numerous crowns reflect
Establish'd Freedom clapp'd her joyful wings;
Proclaim'd the first of men, and best of kings,
Whither would the Muse aspire
With Pindar's rage, without his fire;..
Pardon me, Janus, 'twas a fault,
Created by too great a thought:
Mindless of the God and day,
I from thy altars, Janus, stray,
From thee, and from myself, borne far away.
The fiery Pegafus disdains
To mind the rider's voice, or hear the reins :
When glorious fields and opening camps he views,
He runs with an unbounded loofe :
Hardly the Muse can fit the headstrong horse;
Nor would she, if she could, check his impetuous force;
With the glad noife the cliffs and vallies ring,
While the through earth and air pursues the king.
She now beholds him on the Belgic shore;
Whilft Britain's tears his ready help implore,
Dissembling for her fake his rifing cares,
And with wife filence pondering vengeful wars,
She through the raging ocean now
Views him advancing his auspicious prow;
Combating adverse winds and winter seas,
Sighing the moments that defer our ease;
Daring to weild the scepter's dangerous weight,
And taking the command, to save the state;
Though, ere the doubtful gift can be fecur'd,
New wars must be fustain'd, new wounds endur'd.
XVIII.
Through rough Ierne's camps she sounds alarms,
And kingdoms yet to be redeem'd by arms;
In the dank marshes finds her glorious theme;
And plunges after him through Boyne's fierce stream.
She bids the Nereids run with trembling hafte,
To tell old Ocean how the Hero past.
The God rebukes their fear, and owns the praife
Worthy that arm, whose empire he obeys.
Back to his Albion the delights to bring
The humblest victor, and the kindest king.
Albion with open triumph would receive
Her Hero, nor obtains his leave :
Firm he rejects the altars she would raise;
And thanks the zeal, while he declines the praife.
Again the follows him through Belgia's land,
And countries often fav'd by William's hand';
Hears joyful nations blefs those happy toils,
Which freed the people, but return'd the fpoils.
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