Page:Beachy Head and Other Poems.pdf/19

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Presumptuous hopes, that ever thou again, Queen of the isles! shalt crouch to foreign arms. The enervate sons of Italy may yield; And the Iberian, all his trophies torn And wrapp'd in Superstition's monkish weed, May shelter his abasement, and put on Degrading fetters. Never, never thou! Imperial mistress of the obedient sea; But thou, in thy integrity secure, Shalt now undaunted meet a world in arms.

England! 'twas where this promontory rears Its rugged brow above the channel wave, Parting the hostile nations, that thy fame, Thy naval fame was tarnish'd, at what time Thou, leagued with the Batavian, gavest to France