283 Our King this more than natural change beholds;
       With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: 
     To the All-good his lifted hands he folds,
       And thanks him low on his redeemed ground.

 284 As when sharp frosts had long constrain’d the earth,
       A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain;
     And first the tender blade peeps up to birth,
       And straight the green fields laugh with promised grain: 

 285 By such degrees the spreading gladness grew
       In every heart which fear had froze before: 
     The standing streets with so much joy they view,
       That with less grief the perish’d they deplore.

 286 The father of the people open’d wide
       His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed: 
     Thus God’s anointed God’s own place supplied,
       And fill’d the empty with his daily bread.

 287 This royal bounty brought its own reward,
       And in their minds so deep did print the sense,
     That if their ruins sadly they regard,
       ’Tis but with fear the sight might drive him thence.

 288 But so may he live long, that town to sway,
       Which by his auspice they will nobler make,
     As he will hatch their ashes by his stay,
       And not their humble ruins now forsake.

 289 They have not lost their loyalty by fire;
       Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,
     That from his wars they poorly would retire,
       Or beg the pity of a vanquish’d foe.

 290 Not with more constancy the Jews of old,
       By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent,
     Their royal city did in dust behold,
       Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.

 291 The utmost malice of their stars is past,
       And two dire comets, which have scourged the town,
     In their own plague and fire have breathed the last,
       Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.

 292 Now frequent trines the happier lights among,
       And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed,
     Those weights took off that on his planet hung,
       Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed.

 293 Methinks already from this chemic flame,
       I see a city of more precious mould: 
     Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,
       With silver paved, and all divine with gold.

 294 Already labouring with a mighty fate,
       She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow,
     And seems to have renew’d her charter’s date,
       Which Heaven will to the death of time allow.

 295 More great than human now, and more august,
       Now deified she from her fires does rise: 
     Her widening streets on new foundations trust,
       And opening into larger parts she flies.

 296 Before, she like some shepherdess did show,
       Who sat to bathe her by a river’s side;
     Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,
       Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride.