281

An hollow crystal pyramid he takes,

In firmamental waters dipped above;

Of it a broad extinguisher he makes,

And hoods the flames that to their quarry strove.

282

The vanquished fires withdraw from every place
Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep:
Each household Genius shows again his face
And from the hearths the little Lares creep.

283

Our King this more than natural change beholds,
With sober joy his heart and eyes abound;

To the All-good his lifted hands he folds,

And thanks him low on his redeemed ground.

284

As, when sharp frosts had long constrained the earth, A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain,

And first the tender blade peeps up to birth,

And straight the green fields laugh with promised

grain :

285

By such degrees the spreading gladness grew
In every heart which fear had froze before;
The standing streets with so much joy they view
That with less grief the perished they deplore.
286

The father of the people opened wide

His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed: Thus God's anointed God's own place supplied And filled the empty with his daily bread.

287

This royal bounty brought its own reward

And in their minds so deep did print the sense, That, if their ruins sadly they regard,

'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him thence.

288

City's request But so may he live long that town to sway

to the King not to leave them.

Which by his auspice they will nobler make,
As he will hatch their ashes by his stay

And not their humble ruins now forsake.

289

They have not lost their loyalty by fire;

Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,
That from his wars they poorly would retire
Or beg the pity of a vanquished foe.

290

Not with more constancy the Jews of old,
By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent,
Their royal city did in dust behold

Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.

291

The utmost malice of their stars is past,

And two dire comets which have scourged the town In their own plague and fire have breathed their last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.

292

Now frequent trines the happier lights among

And high-raised Jove from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed.

293

Methinks already from this chymic flame

I see a city of more precious mould,
Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,
With silver paved and all divine with goldf.

294

Already, labouring with a mighty fate,

She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow And seems to have renewed her charter's date Which Heaven will to the death of time allow.

! Mexico.

295

More great than human now and more August 8,
New deified she from her fires does rise:
Her widening streets on new foundations trust,
And, opening, into larger parts she flies.

296

Before, she like some shepherdess did show

Who sate to bathe her by a river's side,
Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,
Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pridc.

297

Now like a maiden queen she will behold

From her high turrets hourly suitors come;
The East with incense and the West with gold
Will stand like suppliants to receive her doom.
298

The silver Thames, her own domestic flood,
Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train,
And often wind, as of his mistress proud,
With longing eyes to meet her face again.

299

The wealthy Tagus and the wealthier Rhine
The glory of their towns no more shall boast,
And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers join,
Shall find her lustre stained and traffic lost.

300

The venturous merchant who designed more far
And touches on our hospitable shore,

Charmed with the splendour of this northern star,
Shall here unlade him and depart no more.

301

Our powerful navy shall no longer meet

The wealth of France or Holland to invade;

The beauty of this town without a fleet
From all the world shall vindicate her trade.

8 Augusta, the old name of London.

G

302

And while this famed emporium we prepare,

The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those who now disdain our trade to share Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast.

303

Already we have conquered half the war,
And the less dangerous part is left behind;
Our trouble now is but to make them dare
And not so great to vanquish as to find.

304

Thus to the Eastern wealth through storms we go, But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more;

A constant trade-wind will securely blow

And gently lay us on the spicy shore.