Classic Poem

How comes it, Messieurs! that we see you wear
Hats, that so much out-swell your usual air?
Had fam'd Gertruydenburg beheld this size,
Th' enormous brims had spoke the wearers wise,
While, there, proud conq'rors heard your monarch pray,
And, roughly, clipp'd the pinions of his sway;
Then, lost to fortune, and disrob'd of fame,
They'd pass'd for modest cov'rings of your shame.
But, now, you land, triumphant, on our shore.
And Anna 's thunder has forgot to roar:
While, here, you, smartly, give your master law,
And, from lost battles, vict'ry's triumphs draw:
An English cock , methinks, with better air,
Wou'd grace the transport your glad eyes declare:
Change, change, your hideous brims, and timely chuse,
To strike a bargain, without fear to loose:
There are, at court, they say, who needs must know,
Their heads will soon require a broad chappeau .