Classic Poem

Though you (Great Sir) be Heaven's immediate Care,
Who shew'd your Danger, and then broke the Snare;
And our first Gratitude to that be due,
Yet there is much that must be pay'd to you:
For tis your Prudence Ireland's Peace secures,
Gives her her safety, and (what's dearer) yours
Less honour from a Battell won is got,
Then to repel soe desperate a Plot;
Fortune with Courage oft plays booty there,
But single Vertue is Triumphant here;
Whilst your prevailing Genius does dispence,
At once its conduct and its Influence;
In vain the bold ungratefull Rebells aym
To overturn, when you support the Frame
You, who three Potent Kingdoms late have seen
Tremble with fury, and yet stedfast been;
Who on afflicted Majesty could wait,
When it was seemingly forsook by Fate;
Whose settled Loyalty no Storm dismay'd,
Nor the more flattering Mischiefs could disswade;
And having scap'd so dangerous a Coast,
Could you now fall, expiring Treason's boast?
Or was it hop'd by this contemned Crew,
That you could Fortune and not them subdue?
But whilst these Wretches at this impious rate,
Will buy the Knowledge of your Mighty Fate;
Annalls and Fame to all the world shall tell,
You suffer'd bravely, and you rule as well
You shall secure your King's entrusted Crown,
Assisted by his Fortune, and your Own;
And whilst his Sword Kingdoms abroad bestows,
You, with the next renown, shall this dispose.