(19)
(11)
Though Fortune did not hang on thy Sword,
And did obey thy mighty word;
Though Fortune for thy side, and thee,
Forgot her lov'd Inconstancy;
Amidst thy Arms and Trophies Thou
Wert Valiant, and Gentle too;
Wounded'st thy self, when thou didst kill thy Foe.
Like Steel, when it much work hath past
That which was rough doth shine at last;
Thy Arms by being oftner us'd, did smoother grow;
Nor did thy Battels make thee proud or high;
Thy Conquest rais'd the State not thee:
Thou overcame'st thy self in every Victory.
As when the Sun in a directer line
Upon a Polish'd Golden Shield doth shine,
The Shield reflects unto the Sun again his Light;
So when the Heavens smil'd on the in Fight,
When thy propitious God had lent
Success and Victory to thy Tent;
To Heaven again the Victory was sent.
(12)
England, till thou didst come,
Confin'd her Valour home;
Then onr own Rocks did stand
Bounds to our Fame as well as Land;
And were to us as well
As to our Enemies unpassable:
We were asham'd, at what we read;
And blush't at what our Fathers did;
