ct of courts may tell,
He that his right demands can ne'er rebel;
Which right, if 'tis by governors denied,
May be procured by force or foreign aid;
For tyranny's a nation's term of grief,
As folks cry fire to hasten in relief;
And when the hated word is heard about,
All men should come to help the people out.

Thus England groan'd, Britannia's voice was heard,
And great Nassau to rescue her appear'd:
Call'd by the universal voice of fate,
God and the people's legal magistrate:
Ye heavens regard! Almighty Jove look down,
And view thy injured monarch on the throne;
On their ungrateful heads due vengeance take
Who sought his aid, and then his part forsake:
Witness, ye powers! it was our call alone,
Which now our pride makes us ashamed to own;
Britannia's troubles fetch'd him from afar,
To court the dreadful casualties of war;
But where requital never can be made,
Acknowledgment's a tribute seldom paid.

He dwelt in bright Maria's circling arms,
Defended by the magic of her charms,
From foreign fears and from domestic harms;
Ambition found no fuel for her fire,
He had what God could give or man desire,
Till pity roused him from his soft repose,
His life to unseen hazards to expose;
Till pity moved him in our cause to appear,
Pity! that word which now we hate to hear;
But English gratitude is always such,
To hate the hand that does oblige too much.

Britannia's cries gave birth to his intent,
And hardly gain'd his unforeseen assent;
His boding thoughts foretold him he should find
The people fickle, selfish, and unkind;
Which thought did to his royal heart appear
More dreadful than the dangers of the war;
For nothing grates a generous mind so soon,
As base returns for hearty service done.

Satire, be silent! awfully prepare
Britannia's song, and William's praise to hear;
Stand by, and let her cheerfully rehearse
Her grateful vows in her immortal verse.
Loud fame's eternal trumpet let her sound,
Listen, ye distant poles, and endless round,
May the strong blast the welcome news convey,
As far as sound can reach or spirit fly!
To neighb'ring worlds, if such there be, relate
Our heroes fame for theirs to imitate;
To distant worlds of spirits let her rehearse,
For spirits without the helps of voice converse:
May angels hear the gladsome news on high,
Mix'd with their everlasting symphony;
And hell itself stand in surprise to know,
Whether it be the fatal blast or no.

BRITANNIA.

The fame of