Epigram upon the Golden Medal.

OUR Guard upon the Royal side,
On the Reverse, Our Beauty's pride
Here we discern, the Frown and Smile,
The Force and Glory of Our Isle;
In the rich Medal both so like
Immortals stand, it seems Antique,
Carv'd by some Master, when the bold
Greeks made their Iove descend in Gold,
And Danae wond'ring at that showr,
Which falling, storm'd her brazen Tow'r;
Britannia there, the Fort in vain
Had batter'd been with Golden Rain;
Thunder it self had fail'd to pass,
Vertue's a stronger Guard than Brass.