And wonder'd how he strove with adverse fate.
The future glories of our monarch now
Had swell'd my song, and made my numbers grow.
But tho' my muse does no such fire impart,
The mind is faithful and sincere the heart.
Then while in humble notes our joy we sing,
Paying our private homage to the king,
Bright Phœbus, gild each corner of the sky, }
And with new lustre feed our dazled eye, }
T'inspire our mirth and animate our joy. }