Hail, _Living Effulgence_, whose all honour'd name Shall grace, first of mortals, the annals of fame! Whose glory shall spread, thro' each age and each clime, To the final extent of space and of time! Who the Virtues _Trajan_ and _Titus_ unite; The victor of empires, and _Mankind's Delight_! Hail, radiance auspicious, from light's fountain born Each dark hemisphere to relume and adorn! To whom if compar'd, other kings all appear, Like little dim _Sparklers_, round _Cynthia's_ bright sphere. The wonder of monarchs, a patriot imperial, Endow'd with a spirit of vigour aetherial! For worth, less than your's in pale envy's despite, Old chiefs claim'd to honours celestial a right! From their funeral piles in flames eagles soar'd; Earth's heroes grew gods, and dead kings were ador'd. Defensive, fair justice, he fights in thy cause, And his sword, lightning pointed, reluctant he draws, His courage on aggregate perils still grows; And his triumphs increase from multiply'd foes. Ye _Cæsars_, ye _Bourbons_, ye scourges of God, Ye saw on the wings of the wind how he rode: Revere then heav'ns champion, who, charg'd with your doom, Shall quell the leagu'd hosts of _Gaul_, _Satan_ and _Rome_! When earth's giant crew, each with manifold hands, Assaulted _Jove's_ seat, in confederate bands; Thus _Evius_ asserted the throne of his sire, And heap'd o'er th' aggressors a mountain of fire!
Ye numberless suns, his kindred, on high, For six thousand years whom cou'd ye descry; Whom, like him, have seen of meer mortal birth; Tho _Alfred_ and _Edward_ once dignify'd earth? Blush, blush, scepter'd pirates, who trail your faint fire: Ye meteors, that transiently dazzling expire! Whose lust of vain pow'r stains the page of your story: What glow worms ye look, and how lost in his glory? Blush, butchers, whose banners red massacre shames, That _Honest_ and _Great_ should bear different names! Go waste the creation for empire and pelf: The globe you may win, but _he_ conquers himself! To spare he subdues; as he sought to defend; Dire war's his forc'd mean: but fair peace his lov'd end. Tho' trophies in battles o'er your's he can raise; Yet these he accounts but a second rate praise. Who by victories plum'd ne'er thinks it disgrace, To sigh that they're earn'd by the blood of his race. The public's first servant, and humble in station; He found his firm glory on wise legislation. His country's great father, in blessings most blest, Who loses his own for the world's peace and rest! Still only ambitious of fair-won renown, And olives with laurels to wreath in his crown. Say poet, philosopher, critick, divine, What art thou?--Since all, but omniscience is thine. Self-taught, tho' a king! and now destin'd to prove, That _Minerva_, like thee, sprang perfect from _Jove_. Like thee, fam'd for wisdom; like thee for alarms: The goddess of science, and goddess of arms! In his words, in his deeds, we read his great heart; Too gen'rous for fraud, and too wise for mean art. With aw still reflecting whence all grandeur springs; And only dependent on thee, King of Kings! The mate of his vet'rans in each noble feat; The first in the charge, and the last in retreat, A statesman and monarch, yet true to his word; A soldier with honour, more bright than his sword. Whom pow'r ne'er corrupted; whom learning adorns: Who, ev'n in idea, court-turpitude scorns: --Yet why should we wonder, that _this_ he disdains; When the blood of good _George_ flows rich in his veins?