HOUGH our best notes are treason to his
Joined with the loud applause of public
Since Heaven, what praise we offer to his name, Hath rendered too authentic by its choice;
Yet 'tis our duty, and our interest too,
Such monuments as we can build to raise ;
Lest all the world prevent what we should do,
And claim a title in him by their praise.
His grandeur he derived from heaven alone,
For he was great ere fortune made him so;
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.
No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,
But to our crown he did fresh jewels bring;
Nor was his virtue poisoned soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.
He, private, marked the faults of others' sway.
And set as sea-marks for himself to shun;
Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray
By acts their age too late would wish undone.
And yet dominion was not his design;
We owe that blessing, not to him, but Heaven,
Which to fair acts rewards unsought did join,
Rewards that less to him than us were given.
He fought secure of fortune as of fame;
Still by new maps the island might be shown,
Of conquests, which he strewed where'er he came
Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown.
Peace was the prize of all his toils and care,
Which war had banished and did now restore;
Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air
To seat themselves more surely than before.
Nor was he like those stars which only shine
When to pale mariners they storms portend,
He had his calmer influence, and his mien
Did love and majesty together blend.
'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe, And naturally all souls to his did bow,
As wands of divination downward draw,
And point to beds where sovereign gold dot grow.
When absent, yet we conquered in his right,
For though some meaner artist's skill were shown
In mingling colours, or in placing light,
Yet still their fair designment was his own.
For from all tempers he could service draw,
The worth of each with its alloy he knew ;
And as the confidant of nature saw
How she complexions did divide and brew.
Or he their single virtues did survey
By intuition in his own large breast,
Where all the rich ideas of them lay,
That were the rule and measure to the rest.
From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend; Since their commencement to his arms they
If springs as high as fountains may ascend.
He made us freemen of the continent,
Whom nature did like captives treat before ;
To nobler preys the English lion sent,
And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar.
That old unquestioned pirate of the land,
Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard,
And, trembling, wished behind more Alps to stand, Although an Alexander were her guard.
By his command we boldly crossed the Line,
And bravely fought where southern stars arise;
We traced the far-fetched gold unto the mine,
And that which bribed our fathers made our prize.
Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live;
He seemed but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumph earth could give.
His latest victories still thickest came,
As near the centre motion doth increase,
Till he, pressed down by his own weighty name, Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease.
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest,
His name a great example stands to show
How strangely high endeavours may be blest,
Where piety and valour jointly go.
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