Whilst yours, like Pallas from the Head of Jove
Steps out full grown, with Noblest Pace to move.
What ancient Poets to their Subject owe,
Is here inverted, and this owes to you:
You found it Little, but have made it Great;
They could Describe, but you alone Create.
Now let your Muse rise with Expanded Wings,
To Sing the Fate of Empires, and of Kings;
Great WILLIAM's Victories she'll next rehearse,
And raise a Trophy of Immortal Verse:
Thus to your Art proportion the Design,
And Mighty Things will Mighty Numbers join,
A Second Namur, or a future Boyne.
THE
