CHARM'D with the Beauties of the silver Sea,
We board a Ship, and skim the watry Way:
Blown with propitious Gales, we quickly view
BRITANNIA's Strength, her Guard, and Glory too;
Where GEORGE's dreadful Eagles waiting stood,
To bear his fatal Thunder o'er the Flood.
The wondrous Scene delights my gazing Eyes,
At once imparting Pleasure and Surprize:
Intrepid Sailers, swarming in the Sky,
Intent on Bus'ness, diff'rent Labours try:
Some stride the Yard, or tow'ring Mast ascend;
Some on the Ropes, in airy Crowds, depend;
Thick as the Insects, round the Poplar, play,
When PHOEBUS gilds 'em with a Western Ray.