"We' are come, most sacred Judge, to pay th'Arrears Of much-ow'd thanks for the bright thirty years Of your just Reign; and at your feet to lay All that our grateful hearts can weakly pay In unproportion'd words; for you alone The not unfit Reward, who seek for none. But when our forepast ills we call to mind, And sadly think how Little's left behind Of your important Life, whose sudden date Would disinherit th'unprovided State. When we consider how unjust 'tis, you, Who nere of Power more than the Burden knew, At once the weight of that and Age should have; Your stooping days prest doubly towards the grave. When we behold by Ammons youthful rage, Proud in th' advantage of your peaceful age, And all th'united East our fall conspir'd; And that your Sons, whom chiefly we desir'd As Stamps of you, in your lov'd room to place, By unlike acts that noble Stamp deface: Midst these new fears and ills, we're forc'd to fly To' a new, and yet unpractis'd Remedy; A new one, but long promis'd and foretold, By Moses, and to Abraham shown of old. A Prophesie long forming in the Womb Of teeming years, and now to ripeness come. This Remedy's a King; for this we all With an inspir'd, and zealous Union call. And in one sound when all mens voices join, The Musick's tun'd (no doubt) by hand divine."