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 But when thy daring Sons the Wave explore,

The Ocean yields her unexhauted Store:

Thy open Harbours all her Gifts divide,

And Seas of Wealth roll in with ev'ry Tide:

The Golden Shoals thy very Nets purue,

Laugh at the leer Treaures of Peru;

Prompt thee to change the meannes of thy State,

Bids thee, when e're thou wilt, be rich and great.

Tell us ye Sons of Myt'ry, from what Hand,

What ecret High Command

Gives out the Word that's heard to Natures Deep,

Where all the Scaly Tribes their Councils keep?

Who tells them when the very Month arrives?

And who the ecret Order gives?

When from the Womb of Wonders far by-North,

The mighty Slymy Hots come forth;

The num'rous Legions pread the Sea,

The wondring frighted Waves give way;

Forward the Mighty moving Hots puh on,

All guided by a Hand unknown.