Jacob of England, champion of good grace,
Type of your noble nation’s noblest charms,
With peerless wit, your gallantry disarms
The self-made masters of the human race.
Vox populi, of wide and warm embrace,
From marbled cities to the moss-clad farms,
Though fools and traitors raise their false alarms
And multiply their ill designs apace.
May you, who keep the faith of ancient times,
When sweeter manners brought forth sweeter laws
And finer forms of courtesy held sway,
Receive these laurels gilded by my rhymes,
The measured witness of the world’s applause
And worthy usage of a distant day.