Inur'd to suffer ere he came to reign,
No rash procedure will his actions stain.
To bus'ness ripen'd by digestive thought,
His future rule is into method brought; go
As they who first proportion understand,
With easy practice reach a master's hand.
Well might the ancient poets then confer
On Night the honor'd name of Counselor,
Since struck with rays of prosp'rous fortune
blind,

We light alone in dark afflictions find.
In such adversities to scepters train'd,
The name of Great his famous grandsire
gain'd;

Who yet a king alone in name and right, With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight;

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Shock'd by a Covenanting League's vast pow'rs,

As holy and as catholic as ours:
Till Fortune's fruitless spite had made it

known,

The springs of motion from the seat of sense.
"T was not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let them play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labors thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth
crush.

Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude, While growing pains pronounce the humors crude;

Deaf to complaints, they wait upon the ill, Till some safe crisis authorize their skill. Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear, To scape their eyes whom guilt had taught

to fear,

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