the Part of an Executioner on such
Occasions; many a poor Man having lost his Heart, while he hath
attended to another's losing his Head. While the Fair-One carelessly
laying her Hand on his, argues concerning the Criminal's Guilt, and
offers to lay a Wager that he will die well; the wounded Lover feels a
sudden Stroke, and is not better able to bear the Smart without a
Sigh.

[21]If it was the Custom of _England_ to imitate the _Romans_ in
insulting over the Conquered, what Spectacles might have formerly been
exhibited! How many _French_ Youths and Virgins might have followed
the Chariot-Wheels of our Monarchs! In that Cafe many a poor
_English_ Heart must have submitted to a _French_ Conquest, and Beauty
would have been triumphant in Chains. Nay, I prophesy we shall again
see those victorious Times. Our Mighty GEORGE now meditates new
Triumphs, and _France_[22] shall be punished as she ought. Rejoice, O
ye Shades[23], whose Bodies lie buried in the Plains of _Fontenoy_,
where _British_ Colours were polluted by _Gallic_ Hands. WILLIAM your
Avenger comes. The General in him shone forth in his first Campaign,
and while a Youth, he managed War beyond his Years. Let not his Age
therefore deter us from ranking him among our greatest Commanders. His
Warlike Genius springs forth and outruns his Years, impatient of the
sluggish Pace of Time. The _Swedish Charles_[24] was scarce beyond a
Child when he crushed two mighty enemies at once; _Charles_[25] the
_German_ Prince, yet but a Youth, what was he when he past the _Rhine_
and terrified the Host of _France_? Thy Father's Genius, WILLIAM, and
his Courage, shall inspire thy youthful Arms. With that Genius and
that Courage shalt thou conquer. Such Beginnings dost thou owe to the
mighty Name of thy illustrious Sire; that thou who art the Noblest of
all young Commanders mayst hereafter become the first among the old.
'Tis time to avenge the Injuries attempted to thy House, and to
maintain thy glorious Father's Rights. Thy Country's Father and thy
own, girts on thy Sword, and thy Cause is no less glorious than thy
Arms. In both is _France_ inferiour, and to both shall yield. I
prophesy, that thou shalt conquer, and to thy Conquest I dedicate my
votive Prayers, prepared hereafter to resound thy Praise; when we
shall see thee, most lovely Prince, returning, thy Glories far
outshining the Gold in which thou art attired. Thee shall Crouds of
Youths and beauteous Virgins hail from their