Trophies of arms, and monuments of war.
The king shall there in Parian marble breathe,
His shoulder bleeding fresh: and at his feet
Disarmed shall lie the threatening Death;
For so was saving Jove's decree complete.
Behind, that angel shall be placed, whose shield
Saved Europe in the blow repelled:
On the firm basis, from his oozy bed;
Boyne shall raise his laurelled head;
And his immortal stream be known,
Artfully waving through the wounded stone.
And thou, imperial Windsor, stand enlarged,
With all the monarch's trophies charged;
Thou, the fair Heaven, that dost the stars inclose,
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 tiest the mystic string
That makes the knight companion to the king.
From glorious camps returned, and foreign fields.
Bowing before thy sainted warrior's shrine,
Fast by his great forefather's coats, and shields
Blazoned 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,
Eclipsed by theirs, or lessened by the fame
Even of his own maternal Nassau's name.
Thou smiling see'st great Dorset's worth confessed,
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.
Renowned in thy records shall Cavendish 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 Talbot's and the Seymour's race
Informed, 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, beloved by all (for all must feel
The influence of a form and mind,
Where comely grace and constant virtue dwell,
Like mingled streams, more forcible when joined)
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 feigned 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 knowledge found,
And by experiment make precept sound;
Some that to morals shall recall 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, 450 That has invoked his aid, or blessed 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
Distinguished patriots from the common grave;
To them, great William's glory to recall,
When statues moulder, and when arches fall.
Nor let the Muses, with ungrateful pride,
The sources of their treasure hide;
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 this 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, 470
In happy tides let active commerce roll:
Let Britain's ships export an annual fleece,
Richer than Argo 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 fleets shall go
As far as winds can bear, or waters flow,
New lands to make, new Indies to explore,
In worlds unknown to plant Britannia's power;
Nations yet wild by precept to reclaim,
And teach them arms, and arts, in William's name.
With humble joy, and with respectful fear
The listening people shall his story hear,
The wounds he bore, the dangers he sustained,
How far he conquered, and how well he reigned;
Shall own his mercy equal to his fame,
And form their children's accents to his name,
Enquiring 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 tied;
When William's virtues raise their opening thought,
His forty years for public freedom fought,
Europe by his hand sustained,
His conquest by his piety restrained,
And o'er himself the last great triumph gained.
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 stamped upon the hero's mind;
And own a present Deity confessed,
In valour that preserved, and power that blessed.
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 horror bright.
These hear no rule, no righteous order own,
Their influence dreaded as their ways unknown;
Through threatened 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 ungoverned power declines to ill:
Fixed by just laws he goes for ever right:
Man knows his course, and thence adores his light.
O Janus! would intreated Fate conspire
To grant what Britain's wishes could require,
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