Then forth the noble Douglas sprung,
And on his neck his daughter hung.
775 The Monarch drank, that happy hour,
The sweetest, holiest draught of Power-
When it can say, with godlike voice,
Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice!
Yet would not James the general eye
780 On Nature's raptures long should pry;
He stepped between-"Nay, Do
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