Happy that Prince, who has by you attain'd
A greater Conquest than his Arms e'er gain'd:
With all War’s Rage he may abroad o'ercome,
But Love’s a gentler Victory at home.
Securely here, he on that Face relies,
Lays by his Arms, and conquers with your Eyes;
And all the glorious Actions of his Life
Thinks well rewarded, blest with such a Wife.
To the King, in the First Year of His Majesty’s Reign.
MAY all thy Years, like this, propitious be,
And bring thee Crowns, and Peace, and Victory:
Scarce hadst thou Time t' unsheath thy conqu'ring Blade,
It did but glitter, and the Rebels fled:
Thy Sword, the Safeguard of thy Brother’s Throne,
Is now become the Bulwark of thy own.
Aw'd by the Fame, the trembling Nations send
Thro’-out the World, to court so brave a Friend;
The guilty Senates that refus'd thy Sway
Repent their Crime, and hasten to obey;
Tribute they raise, and Vows and Off'rings bring,
Confess their Phrenzy, and confirm their King.
