BY MONSIEUR FONTENELLE.
MA petite ame, ma mignonne,
Tu t'en vas donc, ma fille, & Dieu sache où tu vas :
Tu pars seulette, nuë, & tremblotante, helas!
Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne!
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats?
POOR, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Must we no longer live together?
And dost thou prune thy trembling wing,
To take thy flight thou know'st not whither?
Thy humourous vein, thy pleasing folly,
Lies all neglected, all forgot:
And pensive, wavering, melancholy,
Thou dread'st and hop'st thou know's not what.
MORIE ENCOMIUM OF ERASMUS
Is awful pomp, and melancholy state,
See settled Reason on the judgment seat:
Around her crowd Distrust, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Foresight, and tormenting Care:
Far from the throne, the trembling Pleasures stand,
Chain'd up, or exil'd by her stern command.
Wretched her subjects, gloomy sits the queen ;
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene;
And apish Folly, with her wild resort
Of wit and jest, disturbs the solemn court.
See the fantastic minstrelsy advance,
To breathe the song, and animate the dance.
Blest the usurper! happy the surprise!
Her mimic postures catch our eager eyes ;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear;
And in the sights we see, and sounds we hear,
Against our judgment, she our sense employs ;
The laws of troubled Reason she destroys,
And in their place rejoices to indite
Finding the wretched all they here can have,
But present food, and but a future grave:
Each, great as Philip's victor son, shall view
This abject world, and, weeping, ask a new.
Decrepit Age shall read thee, and confess
Thy labours can assuage, where med'cines cease;
Shall bless thy words, their wounded soul's relief,
The drops that sweeten their last dregs of life;
Shall look to Heaven, and laugh at all beneath;
Own riches, gather'd, trouble; fame, a breath;
And life an ill, whose only cure is death.
Thy even thoughts with so much plainness flow,
Their sense untutor'd infancy may know :
Yet to such height is all that plainness wronght,
Wit may admire, and letter'd Pride be taught.
Easy in words thy style, in sense sublime,
On its blest steps each age and sex may rise;
'Tis like the ladder in the Patriarch's dream,
Its foot on Earth, its height above the skies:
Diffus'd its virtue, boundless is its power;
'Tis public health, and universal cure;
Of heavenly manna 'tis a second feast;
A nation's food, and all to every taste.
To its last height mad Britain's guilt was rear'd;
And various death for various crimes she fear'd.
With your kind work her drooping hopes revive;
You bid her read, repent, adore, and live:
You wrest the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand;
Stop ready Death, and save a sinking land.
O! save us still: still bless us with thy stay:
O! want thy Heaven, till we have learnt the way▲
Refuse to leave thy destin'd charge too soon;
And, for the church's good, defer thy own.
O! live; and let thy works urge our belief;
Live to explain thy doctrine by thy life;
Till future infancy, baptiz'd by thee,
Grow ripe in years, and old in piety;
Till Christians, yet unborn, be taught to die
Then, in full age and hoary holiness,
Retire, great teacher! to thy promis'd bliss:
Untouch'd thy tomb, uniujur'd be thy dust,
As thy own fame among the future just;
Till in last sounds the dreadful trumpet speaks;
Till Judgment calls, and quicken'd Nature wakes
Till, through the utmost earth, and deepest sea,
Our scatter'd atoms find their destin'd way,
Wild schemes of mirth, and plans of loose delight. In haste, to clothe their kindred souls again,
ON HIS PRACTICAL DISCOURSE CONCERNING DEATH.
FORGIVE the Muse, who, in unhallow'd strains,
The saint one moment from his God detains:
For sure, whate'er you do, where-e'er you are,
'Tis all but one good work, one constant prayer:
Forgive her; and entreat that God, to whom
Thy favour'd vows with kind acceptance come,
To raise her notes to that sublime degree,
Which suits a song of piety and thee.
Wondrous good man! whose labours may repel
The force of Siu, may stop the rage of Hell;
Thou, like the Baptist, from thy God wast sent,
The crying voice, to bid the world repent.
The youth shall study, and no more engage
Their flattering wishes for uncertain age;
No more, with fruitless care and cheated strife,
Chase fleeting Pleasure through this maze of life;
Perfect our state, and build immortal man:
Then fearless thou, who weil sustain'dst the fight,
To paths of joy, or tracts of endless light,
Lead up all those who heard thee, and believ'd;
'Midst thy own flock, great shepherd! be receiv'd;
And glad all Heaven with millions thou hast sav'd
CARMEN SECULARE,
FOR THE YEAR 1700.
Aspice, venturo lætentur ut omnia seculo:
O mihi tam longæ maneat pars ultima vitæ,
Spiritus & quantum sat erit tua dicere facta!
Virg. Eclog. iv.
THY elder look, great Janus, cast
Into the long records of ages past :
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Review the years in fairest action drest
With noted white, superior to the rest;
Eras deriv'd, and chronicles begun,
From empires founded, and from battles won;
Show all the spoils by valiant kings achiev'd,
And groaning nations by their arms reliev'd;
The wounds of patriots in their country's cause,
And happy power sustain'd by wholesome laws;
In comely rank call every merit forth,
Imprint on every act its standard-worth;
The glorious parallels then downward bring
To modern wonders, and to Britain's king;
With equal justice, and historic care,
Their laws, their toils, their arms with his compare ;
Confess the various attributes of Fame
Collected and complete in William's name ;
To all the listening world relate
(As thou dost his story read) That nothing went before so great, And nothing greater can succeed.
Thy native Latium was thy darling care,
Prudent in peace, and terrible in war:
The boldest virtues that have govern'd Earth
From Latium's fruitful womb derive their birth.
Then turn to her fair-written page;
From dawning childhood to establish'd age
The glories of her empire trace;
Confront the heroes of thy Roman race;
And let the justest palm the victor's temples grace.
The son of Mars reduc'd the trembling swains,
And spread his empire o'er the distant plains:
-But yet the Sabins' violated charms
Obscur'd the glory of his rising arms.
Numa the rights of strict religion knew ;
On every altar laid the incense due;
Unskill'd to dart the pointed spear,
Or lead the forward youth to noble war.
Stern Brutus was with too much horrour good,
Holding his fasces stain'd with filial blood.
Fabius was wise, but with excess of care
He sav'd his country, but prolong'd the war.
While Decius, Paulus, Curius, greatly fought,
And by their strict examples taught
How wild desires should be controll'd,
And how much brighter virtue was than gold;
They scarce their swelling thirst of fame could hide;
And boasted poverty with too much pride.
Excess in youth made Scipio less rever'd;
And Cato, dying, seem'd to own he fear'd.
Julius with honour tam'd Rome's foreign foes;
But patriots fell, ere the dictator rose:
And, while with clemency Augustus reign'd,
The monarch was ador'd; the city chain'd.
With justest honour be their merits drest;
But be their failings too confest :
Their virtue, like their Tyber's flood,
Rolling its course, design'd their country's good.
But oft the torrent's too impetuous speed
From the low earth tore some polluting weed';
And with the blood of Jove there always ran
Some viler part, some tincture of the man.
Few virtues after these so far prevail,
But that their vices more than turn the scale :
Valour, grown wild by pride, and power by rage,
Did the true charms of majesty impair;
Rome by degrees, advancing more in age,
Show'd sad remains of what had once been fair;
Till Heaven a better race of men supplies:
And glory shoots new beams from western skies.
Turn then to Pharamond and Charlemain,
And the long heroes of the Gallic strain;
Experienc'd chiefs, for hardy prowess known,
And bloody wreaths in venturous battles won.
From the first William, our great Norman king,
The bold Plantagenets and Tudors bring;
Illustrious virtues, who by turns have rose
In foreign fields to check Britannia's foes;
With happy laws her empire so sustain,
And with full power assert her ambient main.
But sometimes, too industrious to be great,
Nor patient to expect the turns of fate,
They open'd camps, deform'd by civil fight,
And made proud conquest trample over right:
Disparted Britain mourn'd their doubtful sway,
And dreaded both, when neither would obey.
From Didier and imperial Adolph trace
The glorious offspring of the Nassau race,
Devoted lives to public liberty;
The chief still dying, or the country free.
Then see the kindred blood of Orange flow,
From warlike Cornet, through the lines of Bean;
Through Chalon next, and there with Nassau join,
From Rhone's fair banks transplanted to the Rhine
Bring next the royal list of Stuarts forth,
Undaunted minds, that rul'd the rugged North:
Till Heaven's decrees by ripening times are shown;
Till Scotland's kings ascend the English throne;
And the fair rivals live for ever one.
Janus, mighty deity,
Be kind; and, as thy searching eye
Does our modern story trace,
Finding some of Stuart's race
Unhappy, pass their annals by:
Nor harsh reflection let remembrance raise :
Forbear to mention what thou canst not praise :
But, as thou dwell'st upon that heavenly name',
To grief for ever sacred, as to fame,
Oh! read it to thyself; in silence weep;
And thy convulsive sorrows inward keep:
Lest Britain's grief should waken at the sound,
And blood gush fresh from her eternal wound.
Whither wouldst thou further look?
Read William's acts, and close the ample book:
Peruse the wonders of his dawning life:
How, like Alcides, he began;
With infant patience calm'd seditious strife,
And quell'd the snakes which round his cradle ran. Describe his youth, attentive to alarms,
By dangers form'd, and perfected in arms:
When conquering, mild; when conquer'd, not dis-
By wrongs not lessen'd, nor by triumphs rais'd:
Superior to the blind events
Of little human accidents;
And constant to his first decree,
To curb the proud, to set the injur'd free;
To bow the haughty neck, and raise the suppliant
knee.
His opening years to riper manhood bring;
And see the hero perfect in the king:
Imperious arms by manly reason sway'd,
And power supreme by free consent obey'd;
Mary.
With how much haste his mercy meets his foes,
And how unbounded his forgiveness flows;
With what desire he makes his subjects bless'd,
His favours granted ere his throne address'd:
What trophies o'er dur captiv'd hearts he rears,
By 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 spun,
Becoming grace and proper action run:
The piece by Virtue's equal band is wrought.
Mixt with no crime, and shaded 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 intrinsic worth proclaim;
Shall pass the combat of the searching flame,
And triumph o'er the vanquish'd heat,
For ever coming out the same,
And loosing nor its lustre 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 saving 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 sire inculcate to his son
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 praise:
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 she contemn'd th' approaching foe!
Till she by William's trumpets was alarm'd,
And shook, and sunk, and fell beneath his blow.
Jove and Pallas, mighty powers,
Guided the hero to the hostile towers.
Perseus seem'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 conspire.
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 spake the word, that war and rage should cease;
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 prescrib'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 side unspotted Honour stood,
Pleas'd to confess him not so 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,
1 from thy altars, Janus, stray,
From thee, and from myself, borne far away.
The fiery Pegasus disdains
To mind the rider's voice, or hear the reins:
When glorious fields and opening camps he views,
He runs with an unbounded loose:
Hardly the Muse can sit the headstrong horse;
Nor would she, if she could, check his impetuous
With the glad noise the cliffs and vallies ring,
While she through earth and air pursues the king,
She now beholds him on the Belgic shore,
Whilst Britain's tears his ready help implore;
Dissembling for her sake his rising cares,
And with wise silence 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 wield the sceptre's dangerous weight,
And taking the command, to save the state;
Though, ere the doubtful gift can be secur'd,
New wars must be sustain'd, new wounds endur'
Through rough Ierne's camps she sounds alarms,
And kingdoms yet to be redeem'd by arms;
In the dank marshes fin is her glorious theme,
And plunges after him through Boyne's fierce
She bids the Nereids run with trembling haste,
To tell old Ocean how the hero past.
The god rebukes their fear, and owns the praise
Worthy that arm, whose empire he obeys.
Back to his Albion she 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 praise
Again she follows him through Belgia's land,
And countries often sav'd by William's hand;
Hears joyful nations bless those happy toils,
Which freed the people, but return'd the spoils
In various views she tries her constant theme;
Finds him in councils, and in arms the same;
When certain to o'ercome, inclin'd to save,
Tardy to vengeance, and with mercy brave,
Sudden another scene employs her sight;
She sets her hero in another light;
Paints his great mind superior to success,
Declining conquest, to establish peace :
She brings Astrea down to Earth again;
And Quiet, brooding o'er his future reign.
Then with unweary wing the goddess soars
East, over Danube and Propontis' shores:
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Where jarring empires, ready to engage,
Retard their armies, and suspend their rage;
Till William's word, like that of Fate, declares,
If they shall study peace, or lengthen wars.
How sacred his renown for equal laws,
To whom the world defers its common cause!
How fair his friendships, and his leagues how just,
Whom every nation courts, whom all religions
From the Mæotis to the Northern sea,
[trust!
The goddess wings her desperate way;
Sees the young Muscovite, the mighty head,
Whose sovereign terrour forty nations dread,
Enamour'd with a greater monarch's praise,
And passing half the Earth to his embrace:
She in his rule beholds his Volga's force,
O'er precipices with impetuous sway
Breaking, and, as he rolls his rapid course,
Drowning, or bearing down, whatever meets his
But her own king she likens to his Thames, [way.
With gentle course devolving fruitful streams;
Serene yet strong, majestic yet sedate,
Swift without violence, without terrour great.
Each ardent nymph the rising current craves;
Each shepherd's prayer retards the parting waves;
The vales along the bank their sweets disclose;
Fresh flowers for ever rise, and fruitful harvest
grows.
Yet whither would th' adventurous goddess go?
Sees she not clouds, and earth, and main, below?
Minds she the dangers of the Lycian coast,
And fields, where mad Bellerophon was lost?
Or is her towering flight reclaim'd
By seas from Icarus's downfall nam'd?
Vain is the call, and useless the advice:
To wise persuasion deaf, and human cries,
Yet upward she incessant flies;
Resolv'd to reach the high empyrean sphere,
And tell great Jove, she sings his image here;
To ask for William an Olympic crown,
To Chromius' strength, and Theron's speed un-
Till, lost in trackless fields of shining day, [known:
Unable to discern the way,
Which Nassau's virtue only could explore,
Untouch'd, unknown, to any Muse before;
She, from the noble precipices thrown,
Comes rushing with uncommon ruin down.
Glorious attempt! unhappy fate!
The song too daring, and the theme too great!
Yet rather thus she wills to die,
Than in continued annals live, to sing
A second hero, or a vulgar king;
And with ignoble safety fly
In sight of Earth, along a middle sky.
To Janus' altars, and the numerous throng
That round his mystic temple press,
For William's life and Albion's peace,
Ambitious Muse, reduce the roving song.
Janus, cast thy forward eye
Future, into great Rhéa's pregnant womb;
Where young ideas brooding lie,
And tender images of things to come:
Till, by thy high commands releas'd,
Till, by thy hand in proper atoms dress'd,
In decent order they advance to light;
Yet then too swiftly fleet by human sight;
And,meditate too soon their everlasting flight.
Nor beaks of ships in naval triumph borne,
or standards from the hostile ramparts torn,
Nor trophies brought from battles won
Nor oaken wreath, nor mural crown,
Can any future honours give
To the victorious monarch's name:
The plenitude of William's fame
Can no accumulated stores receive.
Shut then, auspicious god, thy sacred gate,
And make us happy, as our king is great.
Be kind, and with a milder hand
Closing the volume of the finish'd age,
(Though noble, 'twas an iron page)
A more delightful leaf expand,
Free from alarms, and fierce Bellona's rage:
Bid the great Months begin their joyful round,
By Flora some, and some by Ceres crown'd:
Teach the glad Hours to scatter, as they fly,
Soft quiet, gentle love, and endless joy;
Lead forth the Years for peace and plenty fam'd
From Saturn's rule and better metal nam'd.
Secure by William's care let Britain stand;
Nor dread the bold invader's hand:
From adverse shores in safety let her hear
Foreign calamity, and distant war;
Of which let her, great Heaven, no portion bear!
Betwixt the nations let her hold her scale,
And, as she wills, let either part prevail :
Let her glad vallies smile with wavy corn;
Let fleecy flocks her rising hills adorn;
Around her coast let strong defence be spread;
Let fair abundance on her breast be shed;
And heavenly sweets bloom round the goddess' head!
Where the white towers and ancient roofs did stand,
Remains of Wolsey's or great Henry's hand,
To age now yielding, or devour'd by flame,
Let a young phenix raise her towering head;
Her wings with lengthen'd honour let her spread;
And by her greatness show her builder's fame:
August and open as the hero's mind,
Be her capacious courts design'd:
Let every sacred pillar bear
Trophies of arms, and monuments of war.
The king shall there in Parian marble breathe,
His shoulder bleeding fresh: and at his feet
Disarm'd shall lie the threatening Death,
(For so was saving Jove's decree complete).
Behind, that angel shall be plac'd, whose shield
Sav'd Europe, in the blow repell'd:
On the firm basis, from his oozy bed,
Boyne shall raise his laurel'd head;
And his immortal stream be known,
Artfully waving through the wounded stone,
And thou, imperial Windsor, stand enlarg'd,
With all the monarch's trophies charg'd:
Thou, the fair Heaven, that dust the stars enclose,
Which William's bosom wears, or hand bestows
On the great champions who support his throne,
And virtues nearest to his own.
Round Ormond's knee thou ty'st the mystic string,
That makes the knight companion to the king.
From glorious camps return'd, and foreign field:
Bowing before thy sainted warrior's shrine,
Fast by his great forefather's coats, and shields
Blazon'd from Bohun's or from Butler's line,
He hangs his arms; nor fears those arms should
shine
With an unequal ray; or that his deed
With paler glory should recede,
Eclips'd by theirs, or lessen'd by the fame
Ev'n of his own maternal Nassau's name.
Thou smiling seest great Dorset's worth confest,
The ray distinguishing the patriot's breast;
Born to protect and love, to help and please;
Sovereign of wit, and ornament of peace.
O! long as breath informs this fleeting frame,
Ne'er let me pass in silence Dorset's name;
Ne'er cease to mention the continued debt,
Which the great patron only would forget,
And duty, long as life, must study to acquit.
Renown'd in thy records shall Ca'ndish stand,
Asserting legal power, and just command:
To the great house thy favour shall be shown,
The father's star transmissive to the son.
From thee the Talbots' and the Seymours' race
Inform'd, their sire's immortal steps shall trace.
Happy, may their sons receive
The bright reward, which thou alone canst give.
And if a god these lucky numbers guide; .
If sure Apollo o'er the verse preside;
Jersey, belov'd by all (for all must feel
The influence of a form and mind,
Where comely grace and constant virtue dwell,
The hero's virtue does the string inspire,
When with big joy they strike the living lyre.
On William's fame their fate depends;
With him the song begins, with him it ends.
From the bright effluence of his deed
They borrow that reflected light,
With which the lasting lamp they feed,
Whose beams dispel the damps of envious night.
Through various climes, and to each distant pole,
In happy tides let active commerce roll:
Let Britain's ships export an annual fleece,
Richer than Argos brought to ancient Greece:
Returning loaden with the shining stores,
Which lie profuse on either India's shores.
As our high vessels pass their watery way,
Let all the naval world due homage pay:
With hasty reverence their top-honours lower,
Confessing the asserted power,
To whom by Fate 'twas given, with happy sway,
To calm the earth, and vindicate the sea.
Our prayers are heard; our master's flects shall go
As far as winds can bear, or waters flow,
New lands to make, new Indias to explore,
In worlds unknown to plant Britannia's power;
Nations yet wild by precept to reclaim,
Like mingled streams, more forcible when join'd)—And teach them arms and arts in William's name.
Jersey shall at thy altars stand;
Shall there receive the azure band,
That fairest mark of favour and of fame,
Familiar to the Villiers' name.
Science to raise, and knowledge to enlarge,
Be our great master's future charge;
To write his own memoirs, and leave his heirs
High schemes of government, and plans of wars;
By fair rewards our noble youth to raise
To emulous merit, and to thirst of praise;
To lead them out from ease, ere opening dawn,
Through the thick forest and the distant lawn,
Where the fleet stag employs their ardent care,
'And chases give them images of war;
To teach them vigilance by false alarms,
Inure them in feign'd camps to real arms;
Practise them now to curb the turning steed,
Mocking the foe; now to his rapid speed
To give the rein, and in the full career
To draw the certain sword, or send the pointed spear.
Let him unite his subjects hearts,
Planting societies for peaceful arts;
Some that in Nature shall true knowlege found,
And by experiment make precept sound;
Some that to morals shall recal the age,
And purge from vicious dross the sinking stage;
Some that with care true eloquence shall teach,
And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech;
That from our writers distant realms may know
The thanks we to our monarch owe;
And schools profess our tongue through every land,
That has invok'd his aid, or blest his hand.
Let his high power the drooping Muses rear;
The Muses only can reward his care:
"Tis they that guard the great Atrides' spoils;
'Tis they that still renew Ulysses' toils;
To them by smiling Jove 'twas given to save
Distinguish'd patriots from the common grave;
To them, great William's glory to recal,
When statues moulder, and when arches fall.
Nor let the Muses, with ungrateful pride,
The sources of their treasure hide:
With humble joy, and with respectful fear,
The listening people shall his story hear,
The wounds he bore, the dangers he sustain'd,
How far he conquer'd, and how well be reign'd;
Shall own his mercy equal to his fame,
And form their children's accents to his name,
Inquiring how, and when, from Heaven he came.
Their regal tyrants shall with blushes hide
Their little lusts of arbitrary pride,
Nor bear to see their vassals ty'd ;
When William's virtues raise their opening thought,
His forty years for public freedom fought,
Europe by his hand sustain'd,
His conquest by his piety restrain'd,
And o'er himself the last great triumph gain'd.
No longer shall their wretched zeal adore
Ideas of destructive power,
Spirits that hurt, and godheads that devour:
New incense they shall bring, new altars raise,
And fill their temples with a stranger's praise;
When the great father's character they find
Visibly stampt upon the hero's mind;
And own a present Deity confest,
In valour that preserv'd, and power that blest.
Through the large convex of the azure sky
(For thither Nature casts our common eye)
Fierce meteors shoot their arbitrary light,
And comets march with lawless horrour bright;
These hear no rule, no righteous order own;
Their influence dreaded as their ways unknown;
Thro' threaten'd lands they wild destruction throw,
Till ardent prayer averts the public woe.
But the bright orb that blesses all above,
'The sacred fire, the real son of Jove,
Rules not his actions by capricious will;
Nor by ungovern'd power declines to ill:
Fix'd by just laws, he goes for ever right:
Man knows his course, and thence adores his light
O Janus! would entreated Fate conspire
To grant what Britain's wishes could require;
Above, that Sun should cease his way to go,
Ere Williain cease to rule, and bless below;
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