Not foreign or domestic treachery,

Could warp thy soul 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.

XI.

Be true, O Clio, to thy hero's name!
But draw him strictly so,

That all who view the piece may know;
He needs no trappings of fictitious fame :
The load's too weighty: thou may'st choose
Some parts of praise, and some refuse:

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Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish than the muse.

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 apprehension quick, his judgment true:
That the most learn'd, with shame, confess
His knowledge more, his reading only less.

XII.

Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, What wonder if the kindly beams he shed Reviv'd the drooping arts again,

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If science rais'd her head,

And soft humanity that from rebellion fled
Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before;
But all uncultivated lay

Out of the solar 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 till'd,

The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd,

And blest the obedient field.

When straight a double harvest rose;
Such as the swarthy Indian mows;

Or happier climates near the line,

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Or paradise manur'd, and dress'd by hands divine.

XIII.

As when the new-born phoenix takes his way, His rich paternal regions to survey,

o'er the plain;

Of airy choristers a numerous train
Attend his wondrous progress
So, rising from his father's urn,
So glorious did our Charles return ;
The officious muses came along,

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gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young: The muse that mourns him now his happy triumph

sung.

E'en they could thrive in this auspicious reign: And such a plenteous crop they bore

Of purest and well winnow'd grain,

As Britain never knew before.

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Though little was their hire, and light their gain, Yet somewhat to their share 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, almost invok❜d below;
Live and receive this pious vow,

Our patron once, our guardian angel now.
Thou Fabius of a sinking state,

Who didst 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 storm:

Not quitting thy supreme command,

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Thou held'st the rudder with a steady hand, 395
Till safely on the shore the bark did land:
The bark that all our blessings brought, [fraught.
Charg'd with thyself and James, a doubly royal

XIV.

Oh frail estate of human things,

And slippery hopes below!

Now to our cost your emptiness we know,
For 'tis a lesson dearly bought,

Assurance here is never to be sought.
The best, and best belov'd of kings,
And best deserving to be so,

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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 mists of Providence are these
Through which we cannot see!

So saints, 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 madness wrought,
That question'd thy supreme decree!

Thou didst his gracious reign prolong,

Even in thy saints and angels wrong,

His fellow-citizens of immortality:

For twelve long years of exile born,

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Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return : So strictly wert thou just to pay,

E'en to the driblet of a day.

Yet still we murmur, and complain,

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The quails and manna should no longer rain;
Those miracles 'twas needless to renew;

The chosen flock has now the promis'd land in view.

XV.

A warlike prince ascends the regal state,

A prince long exercis'd by fate :

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Long may he keep, though he obtains it late.
Heroes in heaven's peculiar mould are cast,
They and their poets are not form'd in haste;
Man was the first in God's design, and man was
made the last.

False heroes, made by flattery so,

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Heaven can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow;
But ere a prince is to perfection brought,

He costs Omnipotence a second thought.
With toil and sweat,

With hard'ning cold, and forming heat,
The Cyclops did their strokes repeat,
Before the impenetrable shield was wrought.
It looks as if the Maker would not own
The noble work for his,

Before 'twas tried and found a masterpiece.

XVI.

View then a monarch ripen'd for a throne. Alcides thus his race began,

O'er infancy he swiftly ran;

The future god at first was more than man:
Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate,

E'en o'er his cradle lay in wait;

And there he grappled first with fate:

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In his young hands the hissing snakes he press', So early was the deity confess'd;

Thus by degrees he rose to Jove's imperial seat;
Thus difficulties prove a soul legitimately great.
Like his, our hero's infancy was tried:

Betimes the furies did their snakes provide;
And to his infant arms oppose

His father's rebels, and his brother's foes;
The more oppress'd, the higher still he rose ;
Those were the preludes of his fate,

That form'd his manhood, to subdue

The hydra of a many-headed hissing crew.

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