XXII.

BELGIA indulg'd her open Grief,
While yet her Mafter was not near;
With fullen Pride refus'd Relief,

And fat Obdurate in Despair.

XXIII.

As Waters from her Sluces, flow'd
Unbounded Sorrow from her Eyes:

To Earth her bended Front She bow'd,
And sent her Wailings to the Skies.
XXIV.

But when her anxious Lord return'd;
Rais'd is her Head; her Eyes are dry'd:
She fmiles, as WILLIAM ne'er had mourn'd:
She looks, as MARY ne'er had dy'ds f

XXV.

That Freedom which all Sorrows claim,
She does for Thy Content refign:
Her Piety itself would blame;

If Her Regrets fhould waken Thine.

XXVI.

To cure Thy Woe, She fhews Thy Fame;
Left the great Mourner fhould forget,
That all the Race, whence ORANGE came,
Made Virtue triumph over Fate.

XXVII.

WILLIAM His Country's Caufe could fight,
And with His Blood Her Freedom feal:
MAURICE and HENRRY guard that Right,
For which Their pious Parents fell.

XXVIII.

XXVIII.

How Herocs rife, how Patriots fet,

Thy Father's Bloom and Death may tell:
Excelling Others Thefe were Great:
Thou, greater ftill, muft Thefe excell.

XXIX.

The last fair Inftance Thou must give,
Whence NASSAU's Virtue can be try'd;
And fhew the World, that Thou can't live
Intrepid, as Thy Confort dy'd.

XXX.

Thy Virtue, whofe refiftlefs Force
No dire Event could ever stay,
Muft carry on it's deftin'd Course;
Tho' Death and Envy ftop the Way.
XXXI.

For BRITAIN's Sake, for BELGIA's, live:
Pierc'd by Their Grief forget Thy own:
New Toils endure; new Conqueft give;
And bring Them Eafe, tho' Thou haft None.
XXXII.

Vanquish again; tho' She be gone,

Whofe Garland crown'd the Victor's Hair: And Reign; tho' She has left the Throne, Who made Thy Glory worth Thy Care. XXXIII.

Fair BRITAIN never, yet before

Breath'd to her King a useless Pray'r:

Fond BELGIA never did implore,

While WILLIAM turn'd averse His Ear.

XXXIV. But

XXXIV.

But fhould the weeping Hero now
Relentless to Their Wishes prove ;
Should He recall, with pleasing Woe,
The Object of his Grief and Love;
XXXV.

Her Face with thousand Beauties bleft,
Her Mind with thousand Virtues ftor'd,
Her Pow'r with boundless Joy confest,
Her Perfon only not ador'd:

XXXVI.

Yet ought his Sorrow to be checkt;
Yet ought his Paffions to abate:

If the great Mourner would reflect,
Her Glory in her Death compleat.
XXXVII.

She was inftructed to command,

Great King, by long obeying Thee: Her Scepter, guided by Thy Hand, Preferv'd the Isles, and Rul'd the Sea. XXXVIII.

But oh! 'twas little, that her Life

O'er Earth and Water bears thy Fame: In Death, 'twas worthy WILLIAM's Wife, Amidst the Stars to fix his Name.

XXXIX.

Beyond where Matter moves, or Place
Receives it's Forms, Thy Virtues rowl:
From MARY'S Glory, Angels trace
The Beauty of her Part'ner's Soul.
O

XL. Wife

XL.

Wife Fate, which does it's Heav'n decree
To Heroes, when They yield their Breath,
Haftens Thy Triumph. Half of Thee
Is Deify'd before thy Death.

XLI.

Alone to thy Renown 'tis giv'n,
Unbounded thro' all Worlds to go:..
While She great Saint rejoices Heav'n
And Thou fuftain'ft the Orb below.co

LET 'em Cenfure: what care I?

The Herd of Criticks I defie.

Let the Wretches know, I write

Regardless of their Grace, or Spight.
No, no: the Fair, the Gay, the Young
Govern the Numbers of my Song.
All that They approve is sweet:
And All is Senfe, that They repeat.

Bid the warbling Nine retire: VENUS, String thy Servant's Lyre:

Love fhall be my endless Theme:
Pleasure shall triumph over Fame:
And when thefe Maxims I decline,
APOLLO, may Thy Fate be Mine:
May I grafp at empty Praife:

And lose the Nymph, to gain the Bays.

THE Merchant, to fecure his Treafure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd Name:
EUPHELIA ferves to grace my Meafure;
But CLOE is my real Flame.

II.

My foftest Verse, my darling Lyre
Upon EUPHELIA's Toylet lay;

When CLOE noted her Defire,

That I fhould fing, that I fhould play.

III.

My Lyre I tune, my Voice Iraife;

But with my Numbers mix my Sighs: And whilft I fing EUPHELIA'S Praise,

I fix my Soul on CLOE's Eyes.

IV.

Fair CLOE blufh'd: EUPHELIA frown'd: de e

I fung and gaz’d: I play'd and trembl'd:

And VENUS to the LOVES around

Remark'd, how ill We all diffembl'd.