ou rise, the state, exalted too,
Finds no distemper while 'tis chang'd by you;
Chang'd like the world's great scene, when without noise
The rising sun night's vulgar lights destroys.

Had you, some ages past, this race of glory
Run, with amazement we shou'd read your story;
But living virtue, all atchievements past,
Meets envy still to grapple with at last.

This Caesar found, and that ungrateful age,
With losing him, went back to blood and rage.
Mistaken Brutus thought to break their yoke,
But cut the bond of union with that stroke.

That sun once set, a thousand meaner stars
Gave a dim light to violence and wars,
To such a tempest as now threatens all,
Did not your mighty arm prevent the fall.

If Rome's great senate cou'd not wield that sword
Which of the conquer'd world had made them lord,
What hope had our's, while yet their pow'r was new,
To rule victorious armies, but by you?

You, that had taught them to subdue their foes,
Cou'd order teach, and their high sp'rits compose:
To ev'ry duty you'd their minds engage,
Provoke their courage, and command their rage.

So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane,
And angry grows; if he that first took pain
To tame his youth, approach the haughty beast,
He bends to him, but frights away the rest.

As the vext world, to find repose, at last
Itself into Augustus' arms did cast:
So England now doth, with like toil opprest,
Her weary head upon your bosom rest.

Then let the muses, with such notes as these,
Instruct us what belongs unto our peace;
Your battles they hereafter shall indite,
And draw the image of our Mars in fight;

Tell of towns storm'd, of armies overcome,
Of mighty kingdoms by your conduct won,
How, while you thunder'd, clouds of dust did choak
Contending troops, and seas lay hid in smoke.

Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse,
And ev'ry conqueror creates a muse;
Here in low strains your milder deeds we sing,
But there, my lord, we'll bays and olive bring,

To crown your head; while you in triumph ride
O'er vanquish'd nations, and the sea beside:
While all your neighbour princes unto you,
Like Joseph's sheaves, pay reverence and bow.

Footnotes:
1. The ancient seat of the Sydneys family in Kent; now in the
possession of William Perry, esq; whose lady is niece to the late
Sydney, earl of Leicester. A small, but excellent poem upon this