And drew it perfect, yet without a shade.

16 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care,
Which war had banish'd, and did now restore:
Bologna's walls[8] thus mounted in the air,
To seat themselves more surely than before.

17 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes;
And treacherous Scotland, to no interest true,
Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose
Her land to civilize, as to subdue.

18 Nor was he like those stars which, only shine,
When to pale mariners they storms portend:
He had his calmer influence, and his mien
Did love and majesty together blend.

19 'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe;
And naturally all souls to his did bow,
As wands[9] of divination downward draw,
And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow.

20 When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove,
He Mars deposed, and arms to gowns made yield;
Successful councils did him soon approve
As fit for close intrigues, as open field.

21 To suppliant Holland he vouchsafed a peace,
Our once bold rival of the British main,
Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease,