100Thy matchless and undaunted bravery,
Blush'd and brought back the murthered Father's Son,
Lest thou shouldst plant him in th' Imperial Throne,
Thou with thy single hand alone.
He that forgets the glories of that day,
When Charles the Merciful return'd,
Ne'er felt the transports of glad Sion's Joy,
When she had long in dust and ashes mourn'd:
He never understood with what surprise
She open'd her astonish'd eyes