- AH me, what thunders roll! the sky’s on fire!
- Now sudden darkness muffles up the pole!
- Heavens! what wild scenes, before the affrighted sense,
- Imperfect swim!—See! in that flaming scroll, [655]
- Which Time unfolds, the future germs bud forth,
- Of mighty empires! independent realms!——
- And must Britannia, Neptune’s favourite queen,1
- Protect’ress of true science, freedom, arts;
- Must she, ah! must she, to her offspring crouch? [660]
- Ah, must my Thames, old Ocean’s favourite son,
- Resign his trident to barbaric streams;
- His banks neglected, and his waves unsought,
- No bards to sing them, and no fleets to grace?——
- Again the fleecy clouds amuse the eye, [665]
- And sparkling stars the vast horizon gild—
- She shall not crouch; if Wisdom guide the helm,
- Wisdom that bade loud Fame, with justest praise,
- Record her triumphs! bade the lacquaying winds2
- Transport, to every quarter of the globe, [670]
- Her winged navies! bade the scepter’d sons
- Of earth acknowledge her pre-eminence!—
- She shall not crouch; if these Cane ocean-isles,
- Isles which on Britain for their all depend,