Classic Poem

You come, Great Prince, at length Triumphant Home,
Like Christian Constantine to Heathen Rome .
No barb'rous Foe your Chariot-wheels attends,
But Such as All are less your Slaves than Friends.
Not Such as bound in Chains, but Duty, are,
In Britain 's Triumph, more than Yours, to share:
Since You to Mercy, like a God, inclin'd,
Return your Friends to free, not Foes to bind.
Like joyful Volunteers, your Foll'wers then,
Sure of Protection, crowd your Royal Train;
Whilst You, the Joy and Blessing of the Age,
Advance to raise your Peers from Vassalage;
Who truckling Commoners were made of late
To the Usurpers of the Church and State;
Whose lawless Pow'r You hasten to withstand,
Too long divided from your drooping Land!

Ev'n as the Sun, return'd from Southern Skies,
Cheers the cold North, and its chill Frosts unties:
So You, the long-wish'd Blessing of our Isle,
Chase all our Fears, and make the Nations smile;
While ev'ry Mist, that did obscure the State,
Begins at your Approach to dissipate.