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After the Prince of Tanais's homage to the sun we hear something fulsome about the virtues of King William, alias Tamerlane: "No lust of rule, the common vice of Kings, No furious zeal, inspir'd by hot-brain'd priests, Ill hid beneath religion's specious name, E'er drew his temp'rate courage to the field: But to redress an injur'd people's wrongs, To save the weak one from the strong oppressor, Is all his end of war.
But of co'se I swo'e that in a temper, an' temp'rate vows ain't never made 'cep'in' to be repented of." Several times during the last few minutes, while the deacon spoke, there had come to him across the garden from the kitchen the unmistakable odor of fried chicken.
Of Almonds, Quinces, Wardens, and of Peach, The season's now at hand of all and each, Sure at this time, time first of all began, And in this moneth was made apostate man: For then in Eden was not only seen, Boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green, Or withered stocks, which were all dry and dead, But trees with goodly fruits replenished; Which shows nor Summer, Winter nor the Spring Our Grand-Sire was of Paradice made King: Nor could that temp'rate Clime such difference make, If cited as the most Judicious take.
O France thou did'st in him more glory gain Then in St. Lewes, or thy last Henry Great, Who tam'd his foes in warrs, in bloud and sweat, Thy fame is spread as far, I dare be bold, In all the Zones, the temp'rate, hot and cold, Their Trophies were but heaps of wounded slain, Shine the quintessence of an heroick brain. But least my ignorance shall do thee wrong, To celebrate thy merits in my Song.
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