Once more, my fainting muse! thy pinions try,
  And strength’s exhausted store let love supply. 
  What tribute, Asaph, shall we render thee? 
  We’ll crown thee with a wreath from thy own tree! 1040
  Thy laurel grove no envy’s flash can blast;
  The song of Asaph shall for ever last.

   With wonder late posterity shall dwell
  On Absalom and false Achitophel: 
  Thy strains shall be our slumbering prophets’ dream,
  And when our Sion virgins sing their theme;
  Our jubilees shall with thy verse be graced,
  The song of Asaph shall for ever last.

   How fierce his satire loosed! restrain’d, how tame! 
  How tender of the offending young man’s fame! 1050
  How well his worth, and brave adventures styled,
  Just to his virtues, to his error mild! 
  No page of thine that fears the strictest view,
  But teems with just reproof, or praise as due;
  Not Eden could a fairer prospect yield,
  All Paradise without one barren field: 
  Whose wit the censure of his foes has pass’d—­
  The song of Asaph shall for ever last.

   What praise for such rich strains shall we allow? 
  What just rewards the grateful crown bestow? 1060
  While bees in flowers rejoice, and flowers in dew,
  While stars and fountains to their course are true;
  While Judah’s throne, and Sion’s rock stand fast,
  The song of Asaph and the fame shall last!

   Still Hebron’s honour’d, happy soil retains
  Our royal hero’s beauteous, dear remains;
  Who now sails off with winds nor wishes slack,
  To bring his sufferings’ bright companion back. 
  But e’er such transport can our sense employ,
  A bitter grief must poison half our joy; 1070
  Nor can our coasts restored those blessings see
  Without a bribe to envious destiny! 
  Cursed Sodom’s doom for ever fix the tide
  Where by inglorious chance the valiant died! 
  Give not insulting Askelon to know,
  Nor let Gath’s daughters triumph in our woe;
  No sailor with the news swell Egypt’s pride,
  By what inglorious fate our valiant died. 
  Weep, Arnon!  Jordan, weep thy fountains dry! 
  While Sion’s rock dissolves for a supply. 1080

   Calm were the elements, night’s silence deep,
  The waves scarce murmuring, and the winds asleep;
  Yet fate for ruin takes so still an hour,
  And treacherous sands the princely bark devour;
  Then death unworthy seized a generous race,
  To virtue’s scandal, and the stars’ disgrace! 
  Oh! had the indulgent powers vouchsafed to yield,
  Instead of faithless shelves, a listed field;
  A listed field of Heaven’s and David’s foes,
  Fierce as the troops that did his youth oppose, 1090
  Each life had on his slaughter’d heap retired,