University of Virginia Library

To the QUEEN at Supper.

Spoke by Mr. Finch, Son to the Honourable Heneage Finch Esq;

With Love, tho rude, we croud this hallow'd Place,
And clog that Triumph which we mean to grace,
To view that QUEEN that frees Us from Alarms,
Secures our Quiet, and directs our Arms.
England before its ruin'd Trade deplor'd,
A mourning Victor, and disputed Lord.
Now moulding Fleets in Gallick Harbours ly,
Whilst British Ships their double World defy.
Our Muses hear the Battles from afar,
And sing the Triumphs and enjoy the War.
This now, but soon the quivering Spear they'l weild,
And lead the shouting Squadrons to the Field.
They'l serve that Princess whom before they sung,
Defend that Queen beneath whose Eye they sprung.
So spreading Oaks from lovely Windsor born,
Shall shelter Britain which they now adorn:
With swelling Sails o'er distant Seas they'l go,
And guard that Goddess by whose Care they grow.