The glories of her empire trace,
Confront the heroes of thy Roman race,
And let the jufteft palm the victor's temples grace.
The fon of Mars reduc'd the trembling fwains,
And fpread his empire o'er the distant plains;
But yet the Sabine's violated charms
Obfcur'd the glory of his rifing arms.
Numa the rights of ftrict religion knew,
On ev'ry altar laid the incenfe due;
Unfkill'd to dart the pointed fpear,
Or lead the forward youth to noble war.
Stern Brutus was with too much horror good,
Holding his fafces ftain'd with filial blood.
Fabius was wife, but with excefs of care
He fav'd his country, but prolong'd the war;
While Decius, Paulus, Curius, greatly fought,
And by their ftrict examples taught
How wild defires fhould be controll'd,
And how much brighter virtue was than gold;
They fcarce their fwelling thirft of fame could hide,
And boafted poverty with too much pride.
Excefs in youth made Scipio lefs rever'd;
And Cato, dying, feem'd to own he fear'd.
Julius with honour tam'd Rome's foreign foes;
But patriots fell ere the Dictator rofe:
And, while with clemency Auguftus reign'd,
The monarch was ador'd, the city chain'd.
With jufteft honour be their merits dreft,
But be their failings too confeft :
Their virtue like their Tyber's flood
Rolling, its course design'd the country's good;
But oft the torrent's too impetuous speed
From the low earth tore fome polluting weed;
And with the blood of Jove there always ran
Some viler part, fome tincture of the man.
Few virtues after these fo far prevail
But that their vices more than turn the fcale;
Valour grown wild by pride, and pow'r by rage,
Did the true charms of majesty impair !
Rome, by degrees, advancing more in age,
Show'd fad remains of what had once been fair,
Till Heav'n a better race of men fupplies,
And glory fhoots new beams from western skies.
VI.
Turn thee to Pharamond and Charlemain,
And the long heroes of the Gallic ftrain;
Experienc'd chiefs, for hardy prowefs known,
And bloody wreaths in vent'rous battles won.
From the first William, our great Norman king,
The bold Plantagenets and Tudors bring
illuftrious virtues, who by turns have rofe
In foreign fields to check Britannia's foes;
With happy laws her empire to fuftain,
And with full pow'r affert her ambient main:
But fometimes too induftrious to be great,
Nor patient to expect the turns of Fate,
They open'd camps, deform'd by civil fight,
And made proud conqueft trample over right;
Difparted Britain mourn'd their doubtful fway,
And dreaded both when neither would obey.
From Didier and imperial Adolph trace
The glorious offspring of the Naffau race,
Devoted lives to public liberty,
The chief ftill dying or the country free:
Then fee the kindred blood of Orange flow
From warlike Cornet thro' the loins of Beau;
Thro' Chalon next, and there with Naffau join,
From Rhone's fair banks tranplanted to the Rhine. 95
Bring next the royal lift of Stuarts forth,
Undaunted minds, that rul'd the rugged North,
Till Heav'n's decrees by rip'ning times are fhown,
Till Scotland's kings afcend the English throne,
And the fair rivals live for ever one.
Be kind, and as thy fearching eye
Does our modern story trace,
Finding fome of Stuart's race
Unhappy, pafs their Annals by;
No harth reflection let remembrance raise ;
Forbear to mention what thou canst not praise:
But as thou dwell'ft upon that heav'nly náme*,
To grief for ever facred as to fame,
Oh! read it to thyfelf; in filence weep,
And thy convulfive forrows inward keep,
Left Britain's grief fhould waken at the found,
And blood guth fresh from her eternal wound.
IX.
Whither wouldst thou further look?
Read William's acts, and clofe the ample book; 115 Perufe the wonders of his dawning life,
How like Alcides he began;
With infant patience calm'd feditious ftrife,
And quell'd the snakes which round his cradle ran.
Defcribe his youth, attentive to alarms,
By dangers form'd, and perfected in arms;
When conqu'ring, mild; when conquer'd,not disgrac'd; By wrongs not leffen'd, nor by triumphs rais'd; Superior to the blind events
Of little human accidents,
And, conftant to his first decree,
To curb the proud, to fet the injur❜d free;
To bow the haughty neck, and raise the suppliant knee.
His op'ning years to riper manhood bring,
And fee the hero perfect in the king;
Imperious arms by manly reafon fway'd,
And pow'r fupreme by free confent obey'd¡
With how much hafte his mercy meets his foes,
And how unbounded his forgiveness flows;
With what defire he makes his fubjects blefs'd,
His favours granted ere his throne address'd;
What trophies o'er our 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 strength'ning what his law ordains.
Thro' all his thread of life already spun
Becoming grace and proper action run:
The piece by Virtue's equal hand is wrought,
Mixt with no crime, and fhaded 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 fhall its intrinfic worth proclaim,
Shall pass the combat of the fearching flame,'
And triumph o'er the vanquish'd heat,
For ever coming out the fame,
And lofing nor its luftre nor its weight.
Janus be to William juft;
To faithful History his actions truft;
Command her, with peculiar care,
To trace each toil, and comment ev'ry war:
His faving wonders bid her write
In characters diftinctly bright,
That each revolving age may read
The patriot's piety, the hero's deed:
And ftill the fire inculcate to his fon
Tranfmiffive leffons of the king's renown,
That William's glory ftill may live,
When all that prefent art can give,
The pillar'd marble, and the tablet brass,
Mould'ring drop the victor's praife:
When the great monuments of his pow'r
Shall now be vifible no more;
When Sambre fhall have chang'd her winding flood, And children ask where Namur stood.
Namur, proud city, how her tow'rs were arm'd!
How the contemn'd th' approaching foe!
Till the by William's trumpets was alarm'd,
And shook, and funk, and fell, beneath his blow.
Jove and Pallas, mighty pow'rs,
Guided the hero to the hoftile tow'rs.
Perfeus feem'd lefs fwift in war
When, wing'd with speed, he flew thro' air.
Embattled nations ftrive in vain
The hero's glory to restrain:
Streams arm'd with rocks, and mountains red with fire,
In vain against his force confpire.
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 fpake the word, that war and rage fhould ceafe;
He bid the Maese and Rhine in fafety flow,
And dictated a lafting peace
To the rejoicing world below.
To refcu'd states and vindicated crowns
His equal hand prefcrib'd their ancient bounds:
Ordain'd whom ev'ry province fhould obey,
How far each monarch fhould extend his fway,
Taught 'em how clemency made pow'r rever'd,
And that the prince belov'd was truly fear'd.
Firm by his fide unipotted honour food,
Pleas'd to confefs him not fo great as good:
His head with brighter beams fair Virtue deckt
Than those which all his num'rous crowns reflect;
Eftablish'd Freedom clapp'd her joyful wings,
Proclaim'd the first of men and best of kings.
Whither would the mufe afpire
With Pindar's rage, without his fire?
Pardon me, Janus, 'twas a fault,
Created by too great a thought;
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