XXII. BELGIA indulg'd her open Grief, And fat Obdurate in Despair. XXIII. As Waters from her Sluces, flow'd To Earth her bended Front She bow'd, But when her anxious Lord return'd; XXV. That Freedom which all Sorrows claim, If Her Regrets fhould waken Thine. XXVI. To cure Thy Woe, She fhews Thy Fame; XXVII. WILLIAM His Country's Caufe could fight, XXVIII. XXVIII. How Herocs rife, how Patriots fet, Thy Father's Bloom and Death may tell: XXIX. The last fair Inftance Thou must give, XXX. Thy Virtue, whofe refiftlefs Force For BRITAIN's Sake, for BELGIA's, live: Vanquish again; tho' She be gone, Whofe Garland crown'd the Victor's Hair: And Reign; tho' She has left the Throne, Who made Thy Glory worth Thy Care. XXXIII. Fair BRITAIN never, yet before Breath'd to her King a useless Pray'r: Fond BELGIA never did implore, While WILLIAM turn'd averse His Ear. XXXIV. But XXXIV. But fhould the weeping Hero now Her Face with thousand Beauties bleft, XXXVI. Yet ought his Sorrow to be checkt; If the great Mourner would reflect, She was inftructed to command, Great King, by long obeying Thee: Her Scepter, guided by Thy Hand, Preferv'd the Isles, and Rul'd the Sea. XXXVIII. 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. XXXIX. Beyond where Matter moves, or Place XL. Wife XL. Wife Fate, which does it's Heav'n decree XLI. Alone to thy Renown 'tis giv'n, LET 'em Cenfure: what care I? The Herd of Criticks I defie. Let the Wretches know, I write Regardless of their Grace, or Spight. Bid the warbling Nine retire: VENUS, String thy Servant's Lyre: Love fhall be my endless Theme: And lose the Nymph, to gain the Bays. THE Merchant, to fecure his Treafure, II. My foftest Verse, my darling Lyre When CLOE noted her Defire, That I fhould fing, that I fhould play. III. My Lyre I tune, my Voice Iraife; But with my Numbers mix my Sighs: And whilft I fing EUPHELIA'S Praise, I fix my Soul on CLOE's Eyes. IV. Fair CLOE blufh'd: EUPHELIA frown'd: de e I fung and gaz’d: I play'd and trembl'd: And VENUS to the LOVES around Remark'd, how ill We all diffembl'd. |