PART II. (page 53)

The gath’ring Air returns the doubling Sound,
And lowd repeating Thunders force it round:
Ecchoes return from Caverns of the Deep:

Old Chaos dreams on’t in Eternal Sleep.
Time hands it forward to its latest Urn,
From whence it never, never shall return,
Nothing is heard so far, or lasts so long;
‘Tis heard by ev’ry Ear, and spoke by ev’ry Tounge.

    My Hero, with the Sails of Honour furl’d,
Rises like the Great Genius of the World.
By Fate and Fame wisely prepar’d to be

The Soul of War, and Life of Victory.
He spreads the Wings of Virtue on the Throne,
And ev’ry
Wind of Glory fans them on.
Immortal Trophies dwell upon his Brow,
Fresh as the Garlands he has worn but now.

    By different Steps the high Ascent he gains,
And differently that high Ascent maintains.

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