EPISTLES. TO THE KING, ON HIS NAVY. WHERE'ER thy Navy spreads her canvass wings, So Jove from Ida did both hosts survey, Now shall the Ocean, as thy Thames, be free Should Nature's self invade the world again, Thy dreadful fleet would style thee Lord of All, TO THE QUEEN, OCCASIONED UPON SIGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S WELL fare the hand which to our humble sight Of equal glory to your beauty's light) Is wisely plac'd in so sublime a seat, So, happy 'tis you move in such a sphere, No other nymphs have title to men's hearts, 1 Lewis XIII. King of France. |