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Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing,
-Et tantas audetis tollere moles ?
Quos ego-fed motos praeftat componere fluctus.
Non illi imperium pelagi, faevumque tridentem,
PO O E
S on the fea-beat shore Britannia sat, : Of her degenerate fons the faded fame, Deep in her anxious heart, revolving fad: Bare was her throbbing bofom to the gale,
That hoarfe, and hollow, from the bleak furge blew;
Even not yon fail, that, from the sky-mix'd wave, Dawns on the fight, and wafts the ROYAL YOUTH, A freight of future glory to my fhore; Even not the flattering view of golden days, And rifing periods yet of bright renown, Beneath the PARENTS, and their endless line Thro' late revolving time, can foothe my rage; Frederic prince of Wales, then lately arrived. Vol. I.