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.
Who with their Venom over-spread thy Soil,
Those Scorpions of the State, present their Oyl.
So the World's Saviour, like a Mortal drest,
Altho' by daily Miracles confest,
Accus'd of Evil Doctrine by the Jews,
Their righful Lord they impiously refuse;
But when they saw such Terror in the Skies,
The Temple rent, their King in Glory rise,
Dread and Amazement seiz'd the trembling Crowd,
Who, conscious of their Crime, adoring bow’d.