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He for his subjects good the sceptre sway'd,
And him they lov'd, and out of love obey'd.
“From servile fear unwilling homage springs;
‘The hearts of subjects are the strength of kings.”
God-like his courage seem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of death affright.
The vigour of his fiery soul appear'd
Before the downy blossoms of his beard.
So swift a course in honour's paths he ran,
He was a conqueror before a man.
Nor was he less devout than he was brave,
“The hero and the saint no jarrings have.”
So vast a courage, and such pious care,
Might conquer earth with arms, and Heaven with prayer.
His mighty deeds what tongue can well relate,
Or heart endure to hear his rigid fate!
A loss so great the world must needs regret.