Let me (tho' Dignity, by nature proud,
Retires from view, and  behind a cloud,
As if the Sun shone with less pow'rful ray,
Less Grace, less Glory, shining ev'ry day;
Tho' when she comes forth into public sight,
Unbending as a Ghost, she stalks upright,
With such an air as we have often seen,
And often laugh'd at in a tragic queen,
Nor, at her presence, tho' base Myriads crook
The supple knee, vouchsafes a single look.
Let me (all vain parade, all empty pride,
All terrors of Dominion laid aside,
All ornament, and needless helps of art,
All those big looks, which speak a little Heart)
Know (which few Kings alas! have ever known)
How Affability becomes a Throne,
Destroys all fear, bids Love with Rev'rence live,
And gives those Graces Pride can never give.
Let the stern Tyrant keep a distant state,
And, hating all Men, fear return of Hate,
Conscious of Guilt, retreat behind his throne,
Secure from all upbraidings but his own,
Let all my Subjects have access to Me,
Be my ears open as my heart is free;
In full, fair tide, let Information flow,
That evil is half cur'd, whose cause we know.