A prince, with eunuchs and the softer sex
Shut up so long, would warlike nations vex,
Provoke the German, and, neglecting heaven,
Forget the truce for which his oath was given.

His Grand Vizier, presuming to invest
The chief imperial city of the west, 10
With the first charge compell’d in haste to rise,
His treasure, tents, and cannon, left a prize;
The standard lost, and janizaries slain,
Render the hopes he gave his master vain. 
The flying Turks, that bring the tidings home,
Renew the memory of his father’s doom;
And his guard murmurs, that so often brings
Down from the throne their unsuccessful kings.

The trembling Sultan’s forced to expiate
His own ill-conduct by another’s fate. 20
The Grand Vizier, a tyrant, though a slave,
A fair example to his master gave;
He Bassa’s head, to save his own, made fly,
And now, the Sultan to preserve, must die.

The fatal bowstring was not in his thought,
When, breaking truce, he so unjustly fought;
Made the world tremble with a numerous host,
And of undoubted victory did boast.

Strangled he lies! yet seems to cry aloud, 29
To warn the mighty, and instruct the proud,
That of the great, neglecting to be just,
Heaven in a moment makes a heap of dust.

The Turks so low, why should the Christians lose
Such an advantage of their barb’rous foes? 
Neglect their present ruin to complete,
Before another Solyman they get? 
Too late they would with shame, repenting, dread
That numerous herd, by such a lion led;
He Rhodes and Buda from the Christians tore,
Which timely union might again restore. 40

But, sparing Turks, as if with rage possess’d,
The Christians perish, by themselves oppress’d;
Cities and provinces so dearly won,
That the victorious people are undone!

What angel shall descend to reconcile
The Christian states, and end their guilty toil? 
A prince more fit from heaven we cannot ask
Than Britain’s king, for such a glorious task;
His dreadful navy, and his lovely mind,
Give him the fear and favour of mankind; 50
His warrant does the Christian faith defend;
On that relying, all their quarrels end. 
The peace is sign’d,[2] and Britain does obtain
What Rome had sought from her fierce sons in vain.

In battles won Fortune a part doth claim,
And soldiers have their portion in the same;
In this successful union we find
Only the triumph of a worthy mind. 
’Tis all accomplish’d by his royal word,
Without unsheathing the destructive sword; 60

Without a tax upon his subjects laid,
Their peace disturb’d, their plenty, or their trade. 
And what can they to such a prince deny,
With whose desires the greatest kings comply?