As if thou hadst unlearned the power to hate,
Or, like the dove, were born without a gall.
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And own no passions to resent offence,
May pass it by with unconcerned neglect,
And virtue on those principles erect,
Where 'tis not a perfection, but defect.
Let these themselves in a dull patience please,
Which their own statues may possess,
And they themselves when carcasses.
Thou only couldst to that high pitch arrive,
To court abuses, that thou mightst forgive:
Wrongs thus in thy esteem seemed courtesy,
And thou the first was e'er obliged by injury.
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Could stand in need of votaries,
Which heretofore had challenged sacrifice.
Each assignation, each converse
Gained thee some new idolaters.
Thy sweet obligingness could supple hate,
And out of it, its contrary create.
Its powerful influence made quarrels cease,
And feuds dissolved into a calmer peace.
Envy resigned her force, and vanquished spite
Became thy speedy proselyte.
Malice could cherish enmity no more;
And those which were thy foes before,
Now wished they might adore.
Cæsar may tell of nations took,
And troops by force subjected to his yoke:
We read as great a conqueror in thee,
Who couldst by milder ways all hearts subdue,
The nobler conquest of the two;
Thus thou whole legions mad'st thy captives be,
And, like him too, couldst look, and speak thy victory.
