When a sharp-sighted prince, by early grants, Rewards your merits, and prevents your wants? Sing then his glory, celebrate his fame; Your noblest theme is his immortal name. Let mighty Spenser raise his reverend head, Cowley and Denham start up from the dead; Waller his age renew, and offerings bring, Our monarch's praise let bright-eyed virgins sing: Let Dryden with new rules our stage refine, And his great models form by this design. But where's a second Virgil, to rehearse Our hero's glories in his epic verse? What Orpheus sing his triumphs o'er the main, And make the hills and forests move again; Shew his bold fleet on the Batavian shore, And Holland trembling as his cannons roar; Paint Europe's balance in his steady hand,} Whilst the two worlds in expectation stand} Of peace or war, that wait on his command?} But, as I speak, new glories strike my eyes, Glories, which heaven itself does give, and prize, Blessings of peace; that with their milder rays Adorn his reign, and bring Saturnian days. Now let rebellion, discord, vice, and rage, That have in patriots' forms debauched our age, Vanish with all the ministers of hell; His rays their poisonous vapours shall dispel: 'Tis he alone our safety did create, } His own firm soul secured the nation's fate, } Opposed to all the boutefeus[79] of the state. } Authors, for him your great endeavours raise; The loftiest numbers will but reach his praise. For me, whose verse in satire has been bred, And never durst heroic measures tread; Yet you shall see me, in that famous field, With eyes and voice, my best assistance yield; Offer you lessons, that my infant muse Learnt, when she Horace for her guide did chuse; Second your zeal with wishes, heart, and eyes, And afar off hold up the glorious prize. But pardon too, if, zealous for the right, A strict observer of each noble flight, From the fine gold I separate the allay, And show how hasty writers sometimes stray; Apter to blame, than knowing how to mend; A sharp, but yet a necessary friend. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 60: William Sallust, Seigneur Du Bartas, who wrote a huge poem, quaintly divided into "weeks and days," narrating the Scriptural history and miracles in vile bombastic and conceited verse. He found a kindred translator in Joshua Sylvester, who published a version of these and other poems about the beginning of the 17th century. Dubartas was a soldier and a Huguenot, and followed the banners of Henry IV. in the civil wars of France. Sylvester was an English merchant adventurer.]