The hero now in good old age appears, By Heav'n propitious, brought to sixty years; While all th' admiring world do justly own Their present wonder, fix'd on him alone-- Him whom no pow'r can force, no art persuade [Sidenote: _fol._ 398.] To shake that basis so securely laid On inborn virtue, which maintains its reign While all the storms of fortune rage in vain. He thro' the dusky gloom more bright does shine, And in the ambient cloud appears divine. Remove the cloud, kind Heav'n, and shew that ray Sparkling in brightest splendour of the day! Content with trials of misfortunes past, Allow deserved honours at the last! Had I been born with Homer's fertil vein, Or softer genius of the Mantuan swain, To've rais'd an Iliad in my sov'reign's praise, And sing his fame in never-dying lays, The world had first admir'd his manly state, And wonder'd how he strove with adverse fate. The future glories of our monarch now Had swell'd my song, and made my numbers grow. But tho' my muse does no such fire impart, The mind is faithful and sincere the heart. Then while in humble notes our joy we sing, Paying our private homage to the king, Bright Phœbus, gild each corner of the sky, } And with new lustre feed our dazled eye, } T'inspire our mirth and animate our joy. } But see, the face of Heav'n begins to frown, The sullen, heavy day goes low'ring on. [Sidenote: _fol._ 399.] The sun in mists and vapours hides his head, And gloomy darkness o'er the world is spread. Hear, Heav'n's hoarse voice runs murmuring thro' the sky, And pales of horrid thunder dreadful fly. Flashes of lightning thro' the air do gleam. And Æther seems but one continued flame; Clouds dash'd on clouds with utmost fury rend, And on the drowned earth their watery ruines send. Kind Heav'n! is this the pomp that thou dost raise? This thy rejoicing on festival days? To hear thy angry threats proclaim aloud Thy dismal vengeance on the guilty crowd, We kiss the hand from whence these terrors come. And own our well-deserved and fatal doom. We take the omen which thou'rt pleased to give. Our errors we repent. Then let us live. Thou spurn'st to see this day neglected lie, Another shining with vain pageantry. Since then in anger once thou hast declar'd That vice no more shall triumph with regard. Let all the plagues of murder now be flung On these curst bratts from whom our mischief sprung. There's ruffling work abroad, and hence must flow Mutations here, th' usurper's overthrow. Tho' at some distance, yet methinks I hear Most pleasant news--the Restoration's near. Receive the off'rings which we humbly make; Appease thy fury ere thy vengeance break. Accept our penitence, and let us see Our monarch glorious and our country free.