TO A
FRIEND,
WHO
Desired me to write on the Death of
King William.
April 20, 1702.
RUST me, dear George, could I in verse but show
What sorrow I, what sorrow all men, owe
To Nassau's fate, or could I hope to raise
A song proportion'd to the Monarch's praise, 4
Could I his merits, or my grief, express,
And proper thoughts in proper language dress,
Unbidden should my pious numbers flow,
The tribute of a heart o'ercharg'd with woe; 8
What sorrow I, what sorrow all men, owe
To Nassau's fate, or could I hope to raise
A song proportion'd to the Monarch's praise, 4
Could I his merits, or my grief, express,
And proper thoughts in proper language dress,
Unbidden should my pious numbers flow,
The tribute of a heart o'ercharg'd with woe; 8
But,