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The Year of Wonders

Being a literal and poetical translation of an old Latin prophecy, found near Merlin's cave, By S---n D---k [i.e. Stephen Duck]

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One Genius for one Province may be fit,
And full enough for any modern Wit:
In the Finances he that shews his Art,
May act as Premier a most wicked Part;
Shrewd in Debates, vers'd in Affairs at Home,
Yet knows not French Finesse, Cabals at Rome.
To guess when 'tis proclaim'd, it may be Peace,
And whilst it lasts, Hostilities may cease:
Must we be deem'd all Machiavels for this?
Granting us wise in other Instances?
Can our Memorials have their proper Weight,
Long as N--- guides the Pen of State,
And Fopling E--- does Negotiate?
We shew, 'tis fear'd, our Nakedness too much,
In sending H---ce to o'er-reach the Dutch.
Whence sprung our early Confidence in Keen?
His Father is ------ an Alderman of Lynn.
What can we hope from Ministers like these?
Such God or Baal never meant to raise;
Yet W--- and S---, to Excess,
These Peace-Jobbers support by their Address.
Their Reasons it must shock all Sense to know,
Confusion! Men of Spirit stoop so low?