A POEM, &c.
95
And now times whiter Series is begun,
Which in soft Centuries shall smoothly run:
Those Clouds that overcast your Morn shall fly,
Dispell'd to farthest corners of the Sky.
Our Nation, with united Int'rest blest,
Not now content to poize, shall sway, the rest.
Abroad your Empire shall no Limits know,
But like the Sea in boundless Circles flow.
Your much lov'd Fleet shall with a wide Command
Besiege the petty Monarchs of the Land:
And as Old Time his Off-spring swallow'd down,
Our Ocean in its depths all Seas shall drown.
Their wealthy Trade from Pyrate's Rapine free,
Our Merchants shall no more Advent'rers be:
Nor in the farthest East those Dangers fear
Which humble Holland must dissemble here.
Spain to your Gift alone her Indies owes;
For what the Pow'rful takes not he bestows.
And France that did an Exiles Presence fear
May justly apprehend you still too near.
At home the hateful names of Parties cease
And factious Souls are weary'd into peace.
Which in soft Centuries shall smoothly run:
Those Clouds that overcast your Morn shall fly,
Dispell'd to farthest corners of the Sky.
Our Nation, with united Int'rest blest,
Not now content to poize, shall sway, the rest.
Abroad your Empire shall no Limits know,
But like the Sea in boundless Circles flow.
Your much lov'd Fleet shall with a wide Command
Besiege the petty Monarchs of the Land:
And as Old Time his Off-spring swallow'd down,
Our Ocean in its depths all Seas shall drown.
Their wealthy Trade from Pyrate's Rapine free,
Our Merchants shall no more Advent'rers be:
Nor in the farthest East those Dangers fear
Which humble Holland must dissemble here.
Spain to your Gift alone her Indies owes;
For what the Pow'rful takes not he bestows.
And France that did an Exiles Presence fear
May justly apprehend you still too near.
At home the hateful names of Parties cease
And factious Souls are weary'd into peace.
The
