You knew its worth, and made it early prize;

And in its happy leisure, sit and see

The promises of more felicity;

Two glorious nymphs of your own godlike line,

Whose morning rays, like noontide, strike and shine;[348]

Whom you to suppliant monarchs shall dispose,

To bind your friends, and to disarm your foes.


EPILOGUE
TO THE
MAN OF MODE; OR SIR FOPLING FLUTTER.
BY
SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE, 1676.