30 To pardon willing, and to punish loth,
  You strike with one hand, but you heal with both;
  Lifting up all that prostrate lie, you grieve
  You cannot make the dead again to live.

31 When fate, or error, had our age misled,
  And o’er this nation such confusion spread,
  The only cure, which could from Heaven come down,
  Was so much power and piety in one!

32 One! whose extraction from an ancient line
  Gives hope again that well-born men may shine;
  The meanest in your nature, mild and good,
  The noblest rest secured in your blood.

33 Oft have we wonder’d how you hid in peace
  A mind proportion’d to such things as these;
  How such a ruling sp’rit you could restrain,
  And practise first over yourself to reign.

34 Your private life did a just pattern give,
  How fathers, husbands, pious sons should live;
  Born to command, your princely virtues slept,
  Like humble David’s, while the flock he kept.

35 But when your troubled country called you forth,
  Your flaming courage, and your matchless worth,
  Dazzling the eyes of all that did pretend,
  To fierce contention gave a prosp’rous end.

36 Still as you rise, the state, exalted too,
  Finds no distemper while ’tis changed by you;
  Changed like the world’s great scene! when, without noise,
  The rising sun night’s vulgar light destroys.

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

38 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.

39 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.

40 If Rome’s great senate could not wield that sword,
  Which of the conquer’d world had made them lord;
  What hope had ours, while yet their power was new,
  To rule victorious armies, but by you?

41 You! that had taught them to subdue their foes,
  Could order teach, and their high sp’rits compose;
  To every duty could their minds engage,
  Provoke their courage, and command their rage.

42 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.

43 As the vex’d world, to find repose, at last
  Itself into Augustus’ arms did cast;
  So England now does, with like toil oppress’d,
  Her weary head upon your bosom rest.

44 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;