Yet, oft as Fortune blew propitious gales,
And mildest Zephyrs fann'd my swelling sails,
Still Caution warn'd me, anxious for the realm,
And Reason fear'd to quit her much-lov'd helm:
She calmly stemm'd Ambition's boisterous tide,
And lower'd the projects of gigantic Pride:
Hence unimpair'd are all my blessings now;
Hence fresh my laurels blooming o'er my brow:
Sage Foresight only keeps our conquests won;
The too secure too surely are undone.