Ode on the King of Prussia

More glorious than the comet's blaze,
That through the starry region strays:
From Zembla to the Torrid Zone,
The mighty name of Prussia's known.

Be banish'd from the books of fame,
Ye deeds in distant ages done;
Lost and inglorious is the name
Of Hanibal, or Philip's son:
Cou'd Greece, or conquering Carthage sing
A hero great as Prussia's king!

Where restless Envy can't explore,
Or flatter'd Hope presume to fly;
Fate bade victorious Fred'ric soar,
For laurels that can never die.
Could Greece, &c.

His rapid bolts tremendous break,
Thro' nations arm'd in dread array,
Swift as the furious blasts that shake
The bosom of the frighted sea.
Could Greece, &c.

In vain, to shake the throne of Jove
With impious rage, the giants try'd;
'Gainst Fred'rick's force the nations strove
In vain—their haughty legions dy'd.
Could Greece, &c.

While Prudence guides his chariot wheels,
Thro' Virtue's sacred paths they roll;
Immortal Truth his bosom steels,
And guards him glorious to the goal.
Could Greece, &c.

The vengeful lance Britannia weilds,
In consort with her brave ally,
Saves her fair roses in the fields,
Where Gaul's detested lillies die.
Wreaths of eternal friendship spring,
'Twixt mighty George, and Prussia's King.

The jocund bowl let Britons raise,
And crown the jovial board with mirth;
Fill—to great Fred'rick's length of days,
And hail the hero's glorious birth—
Could Greece, or conq'ring Carthage sing,
A chieftain fam'd like Prussia's King?