Thus did that Atlas of our State
With his prodigious acts amaze the age,
130While worlds of wonders on his shoulders sate;
Full of glories and of years,
He trod his shining and immortal way,
Whilst Albion, compass'd with new floods of tears,
Besought his longer stay.
Profane that pen that dares describe thy bliss,
Or write thine Apotheosis!
Whom Heaven and thy Prince to pleasure prove,