Our lustre with redoubled force 12 See, pious King, with different strife 13 Her beauty, in thy softer half Buried and lost, she ought to grieve: And let her weep, but let her live. 14 Thou, guardian angel, save the land 15 Her former triumphs all are vain, Unless new trophies still be sought; And hoary majesty sustain The battles, which thy youth has fought. 16 Where now is all that fearful love, Which made her hate the war's alarms? 17 While still she chid the coming spring, Which called him o'er his subject seas: While, for the safety of the king, She wished the victor's glory less. 18 'Tis changed, 'tis gone; sad Britain now Hastens her lord to foreign wars; AN ODE. Happy, if toils may break his woe, 19 In martial din she drowns her sighs, Lest he should see the falling tear. 20 Go, mighty prince, let France be taught, How constant minds by grief are tried; 21 Fierce in the battle make it known, 22 Belgia indulged her open grief, While yet her master was not near; 23 As waters from their sluices, flowed 24 But when her anxious lord returned, 25 That freedom which all sorrows claim, Her piety itself would blame, If her regrets should waken thine. 26 To cure thy woe, she shows thy fame; Lest the great mourner should forget, 27 William his country's cause could fight, 28 How heroes rise, how patriots set, Thou, greater still, must these excel. 29 The last fair instance thou must give, 30 Thy virtue, whose resistless force No dire event could ever stay, Must carry on its destined course, Though Death and Envy stop the way. 31 For Britain's sake, for Belgia's, live; 32 Vanquish again, though she be gone, Whose garland crowned the victor's hair; AN ODE. And reign, though she has left the throne, 33 Fair Britain never yet before Breathed to her king a useless prayer; Fond Belgia never did implore, While William turned averse his ear. 34 But should the weeping hero now 35 Her face with thousand beauties blest, Her mind with thousand virtues stored, with boundless joy confessed, Her person only not adored; Her power 36 Yet ought his sorrow to be checked; 37 She was instructed to command, 38 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. 39 Beyond where matter moves, or place Receives its forms, thy virtues roll; From Mary's glory, angels trace The beauty of her partner's soul. 40 Wise Fate, which does its Heaven decree 41 Alone to thy renown 'tis given, Unbounded through all worlds to go; IN IMITATION OF ANACREON. Let the wretches know, I write, Bid the warbling Nine retire; 10 |