{ Paint Europe's balance in his steady hand,
{ Whilst the two worlds in expectation stand
{ Of peace or war, that wait on his command?
But, as I speak, new glories strike my eyes,
Glories, which heaven itself does give, and prize,
Blessings of peace; that with their milder rays
Adorn his reign, and bring Saturnian days.
Now let rebellion, discord, vice, and rage,
That have in patriots' forms debauched our age,
Vanish with all the ministers of hell;