The Year of Wonders.
61
239.
Near as he draws, thick harbingers of Smoke,
With gloomy Pillars, cover all the Place:
Whose little intervals of Night are broke
By Sparks that drive against his Sacred Face.
Near as he draws, thick harbingers of Smoke,
With gloomy Pillars, cover all the Place:
Whose little intervals of Night are broke
By Sparks that drive against his Sacred Face.
240.
More than his Guards his Sorrows made him known,
And pious Tears which down his Cheeks did show'r:
The Wretched in his Grief forgot their own:
(So much the Pity of a King has pow'r.)
More than his Guards his Sorrows made him known,
And pious Tears which down his Cheeks did show'r:
The Wretched in his Grief forgot their own:
(So much the Pity of a King has pow'r.)
241.
He wept the Flames of what he lov'd so well,
And what so well had merited his love:
For never Prince in Grace did more excel,
Or Royal City more in Duty strove.
He wept the Flames of what he lov'd so well,
And what so well had merited his love:
For never Prince in Grace did more excel,
Or Royal City more in Duty strove.
242.
Nor with an idle Care did he behold:
(Subjects may grieve, but Monarchs must redress;)
He chears the Fearful, and commends the Bold,
And makes Despairers hope for good Success.
Nor with an idle Care did he behold:
(Subjects may grieve, but Monarchs must redress;)
He chears the Fearful, and commends the Bold,
And makes Despairers hope for good Success.
243. Himself
