IV.
When to the blest bright region he was come,
The vulgar angels gazed, and made him room:
Each laureat monarch welcomes him on high,
And to embrace him altogether fly:
Then strait the happy guest is shown
To his bright and lofty throne,
Inferior there to none.
A crown beset with little suns, whose rays
Shoot forth in foliages resembling bays,
Now on his head they place:
Then round him all the sacred band
Loudly congratulating stand:
When after silence made,
Thus the sweetest Waller said:—
“Well hast thou merited, triumphant bard!
For, once I knew thee militant below,
When I myself was so;
Dangerous thy post, the combat fierce and hard,
Ignorance and rebellion still thy foe;
But for those little pains see now the great reward!
Mack-Flecknoe and Achitophel
Can now no more disturb thy peace,
Thy labours past, thy endless joys increase;
The more thou hast endured, the more thou dost excel;
And for the laurels snatched from thee below,
Thou wear’st an everlasting crown upon thy hallowed brow.”