The angry storms of Thundring Castles bore.
But these are Virtues Fame must less admire,
Because deriv'd from that Heroick Sire,
Who on a Block a dauntless Martyr dy'd,
With all the Sweetness of a Smiling Bride;
Charm'd with the Thought of Honours Starry Pole,
With Joy laid down a Head to mount a Soul.

Of all the Champions rich in Honours Scarrs,
Whose Loyalty through _Davids_ ancient Wars,
(In spight of the triumphant Tyrants pride,)
Was to his lowest Ebb of Fortune ty'd;
No Link more strong in all that Chain of Gold,
Then _Amasai_, the Constant, and the Bold.
That Warlike General whose avenging Sword,
Through all the Battles of his Royal Lord,
Pour'd all the Fires that Loyal Zeal could light,
No brighter Star in the lost _Davids_ night.

No less with Laurels _Ashurs_ Brows adorn,
That mangled Brave who with _Tyres_ Thunder torn,
Brought a dismember'd Load of Honour home,
And lives to make both th'Earth and Seas his Tomb.

With Reverence the Religious _Helon_ treat,
Refin'd from all the looseness of the Great.
_Helon_ who sees his Line of Virtues run }
Beyond the Center of his Grave, his own }
Unfinisht Luster sparkling in his Son. }
A Son so high in Sanedrims renown'd,