Classic Poem

On crystal throne, uplifted high,
Imperial Britain sate;
Her lofty forehead reach'd the sky;
Her awful nod was fate:
Terrific Mars, with War's alarms
Augments the pageant shew;
And sea-green Neptune's circling arms
Forbid th' invading foe.

Bright Science made her Name ador'd.
Her robes the Arts empearl'd.
Wide in her Lap fair Commerce pour'd
The Riches of the World.
Her Cheeks the Rose in haste forsook,
By jealous Fears pursued:
Her Voice the Earth's firm Basement shook,
And turn'd the Air to Blood.

Her Vengeance o'er the liquid Wave
Explores these western Climes:
Just Heav'n! a People deign to save
Whose wrongs are all their Crimes!
Cetera desunt.