Whilft at his feet religious Britain bow'd,
And own'd him next to what we there adore.
Say, joyful Maese, and Boyne's victorious flood,
(For each has mixt his waves with royal blood)
When William's armies paft, did he retire,
Or view from far the battle's distant fire?
Could he believe his person was too dear?
Or use his greatness to conceal his fear?
Could prayers or fighs the dauntless hero move?
Arm'd with Heaven's justice, and his people's love,
Through the first waves he wing'd his venturous way,
And on the adverse shore arose,
(Ten thousand flying deaths in vain oppose).
Like the great ruler of the day,
With ftrength and swiftness mounting from the fea:
Like him all day he toil'd; but long in night
The god has eas'd his wearied light,
Ere vengeance left the stubborn foes,
Or William's labours found repose !
When his troops faulter'd, ftept not he between?
Reftor'd the dubious fight again,
Mark'd out the coward that durft fly,
And led the fainting brave to Victory?
Still as fhe fled him, did he not o'ertake
Her doubtful course, still brought her bleeding back?
By his keen fword did not the boldest fall?
Was he not king, commander, foldier, all?—
His dangers fuch as, with becoming dread,
His fubjects yet unborn shall weep to read :
And were not those the only days that e'er
The pious prince refus'd to hear
His friends' advices, or his fubjects' prayer?
Where'er old Rhine his fruitful water turns,
Or fills his vaffals' tributary urns;
To Belgia's fav'd dominions, and the fea,
Whose righted waves rejoice in William's fway;
Is there a town where children are not taught,
Here Holland profper'd, for here Orange fought;
Through rapid waters, and through flying fire,
Here rush'd the prince, here made whole France retire?
By different nations be his valour blest,
In different languages confeft;
And then let Shannon speak the rest:
Let Shannon fpeak, how on her wondering fhore,
When Conqueft hovering on his arms did wait,
And only afk'd some lives to bribe her o'er;
The god-like man, the more than conqueror,
With high contempt fent back the fpecious bait;
And, fcorning glory at a price too great,
With fo much power, fuch piety did join,
As made a perfect virtue foar
A pitch unknown to man before;
And lifted Shannon's waves o'er thofe of Boyne.
XI.
Nor do his fubjects only share
The profperous fruits of his indulgent reign;
His enemies approve the pious war,
Which, with their weapon, takes away their chain.
More than his fword his goodness ftrikes his foes;
They blefs his arms, and figh they muft oppose.
Juftice and freedom on his conquefts wait;
And 'tis for man's delight that he is great :
Succeeding times fhall with long joy contend,
If he were more a victor, or a friend :
So much his courage and his mercy ftrive,
He wounds, to cure; and conquers, to forgive.
Ye heroes, that have fought your country's caufe,
Redress'd her injuries, or form'd her laws,
Το my adventurous fong just witness bear,
Affift the pious Muse, and hear her swear ;
That 'tis no Poet's thought, no flight of youth,
But folid ftory, and severest truth,
That William treasures up a greater name,
Than any country, any age, can boast:
And all that ancient ftock of fame
He did from his fore-fathers take,
He has improv'd, and gives with interest back;
And in his conftellation does unite
Their scatter'd rays of fainter light:
Above or Envy's lafh, or Fortune's wheel
That fettled glory fhall for ever dwell :
Above the rolling orbs, and common sky,
Where nothing comes that e'er fhall die.
Where roves the Muse? Where, thoughtless to return,
Is her fhort-liv'd veffel borne,
By potent winds too fubject to be toft,
And in the fea of William's praises loft?
Nor let her tempt that deep, nor make the shore,
Where our abandon'd youth fhe fees,
Shipwreck'd in luxury, and loft in eafe;
Whom nor Britannia's danger can alarm,
Nor William's exemplary virtue warm:
Tell them, howe'er, the king can yet forgive
Their guilty floth, their homage yet receive,
And let their wounded honour live :
But fure and fudden be their just remorse;
Swift be their virtue's rise, and strong its course;
For though for certain years and deftin'd times,
Merit has lain confus'd with crimes;
Though Jove feem'd negligent of human cares,
Nor fcourg'd our follies, nor return'd our prayers,
His juftice now demands the equal fcales,
Sedition is fupprefs'd, and truth prevails :
Fate its great ends by flow degrees attains,
And Europe is redeem'd, and William reigns.
AND INTENDED TO BE SUNG BEFORE THEIR MAJES TIES ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY, 1693-4.
LIGHT of the world, and ruler of the year,
With happy speed begin thy great career ;
And, as thou doft thy radiant journies run,
Through every distant climate own
That in fair Albion thou haft seen
The greatest prince, the brightest queen, That ever fav'd a land, or bleft a throne,
Since first thy beams were spread, or genial power was
So may thy godhead be confeft,
So the returning year be bleft,
As his infant months beftow
Springing wreaths for William's brow;
As his fummer's youth shall shed
Eternal fweets around Maria's head.
From the bleffings they beftow,
Our times are dated, and our æras move:
They govern and enlighten all below,
As thou doft all above.
Let our hero in the war
Active and fierce, like thee, appear:
Like thee, great fon of Jove, like thee
When, clad in rifing majesty,
Thou marcheft down o'er Delos' hill confeft,
With all thy arrows arm'd, in all thy glory dreft.
Like thee, the hero does his arms employ,
The raging Python to deftroy,
And give the injur'd nations peace and joy.
From faireft years, and time's more happy stores,
Gather all the fmiling hours;
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