AN EPITAPH ON King WILLIAM III. Of Glorious Memory, Who Died March 8th. 1701. Isaac Watts Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T82397 K067329.000 Watts, Isaac, 1674-1748. Horæ lyricæ: Poems, chiefly of the lyric kind. In two books. ... By I. Watts. London Printed by S. and D. Bridge, for John Lawrence at the Sign of the Angel in the Poultrey. MDCCVI. 1706 pp. 264-267. [20],267,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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AN EPITAPH ON King WILLIAM III . Of Glorious Memory , Who Died March 8th . 1701. I. BEneath these Honours of a Tomb GREATNESS in humble Ruine lies : ( How Earth confines in narrow Room What Heroes leave below the Skies ! ) II . Preserve , Oh Venerable PILE , Inviolate thy Sacred Trust ; To thy cold Arms the BRITTISH Isle Weeping commits her Richest Dust . III . Ye gentlest Ministers of FATE Attend the Monarch as he lies , And bid the Softest SLUMBERS wait With Silken Cords to bind his Eyes . IV . Rest his dear SWORD beneath his Head ; Round him his Faithful ARMS shall stand ; Fix his bright ENSIGNS on his Bed , The Guards and Honors of our Land . V. Ye Sister Arts of PAINT and VERSE , Place ALBION fainting by his Side , Her Groans arising 'ore the Herse , And BELGIA sinking when he Dy'd . VI . High o're the Grave RELIGION set In Solemn Gold : pronounce the Ground Sacred , to bar unhallow'd Feet , And plant her Guardian VERTUES round . VII . Fair LIBERTY in Sables drest Write his lov'd Name upon his Urn , WILLIAM , the Scourge of Tyrants past , And Awe of Princes yet Unborn . VIII . Sweet PEACE his Sacred Relicks keep With Olives blooming round her Head , And stretch her Wings across the Deep To bless the Nations with the Shade . IX . Stand on the Pile , Immortal FAME , Broad Stars adorn thy brightest Robe , Thy thousand Voices sound his Name In Silver Accents round the Globe . X. FLATTERY shall faint beneath the Sound , While Hoary TRUTH inspires the Song ; ENVY grow pale and bite the Ground , And MALICE gnaw her Forky Tongue . XI . NIGHT and the GRAVE remove your Gloom ; Darkness becomes the Vulgar Dead ; But GLORY bids the Royal Tomb Disdain the Horrors of a Shade , XII . GLORY with all her Lamps shall burn , And watch the Warriors sleeping Clay , Till the last Trumpet rouze his Urn To aid the Triumphs of the Day .