XXII.
His Countrys greatneſſe, ſees, on every tide,
Her fleets the umpire of the world aſſume,
And ſpread her juſtice as her glories wide—
Oh wonder of the world, and faireſt pride,
Britannias Fleet! how long ſhall Pity mourn
And ſtain thy honours? from his weeping Bride
And ſtarving babes, how long inhuman torn
Shall the bold Sailor mount thy decks with heart forlorn!
XXIII.
His Brides diſtreſſe his reſtleſſe fancy ſees,
And fixing on the land his earneſt eyes,
Cold is his breaſt and faint his manly knees.
Ah! hither turn, ye ſons of courtlie Eaſe,
And let the Brave Mans wrongs, let Intereſt plead:
Say, while his arme his Countrys fate decrees,
Say, ſhall a Fathers anguiſh be his meed;
His wrongs unnerve his ſoul, and blight each mighty deed?
