291 The utmost malice of their stars is past, And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breathed the last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. 292 Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed. 293 Methinks already from this chemic flame, I see a city of more precious mould: Rich as the town which gives the Indies name, With silver paved, and all divine with gold. 294 Already labouring with a mighty fate, She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, Which Heaven will to the death of time allow. 295 More great than human now, and more august, Now deified she from her fires does rise: Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And opening into larger parts she flies. 296 Before, she like some shepherdess did show, Who sat to bathe her by a river's side; Not answering to her fame, but rude and low, Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride. 297 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom! 298 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; And often wind, as of his mistress proud, With longing eyes to meet her face again. 299 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, The glory of their towns no more shall boast; And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers join, Shall find her lustre stain'd, and traffic lost. 300 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, And touches on our hospitable shore, Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, Shall here unlade him, and depart no more. 301 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, The wealth of France or Holland to invade; The beauty of this town without a fleet, From all the world shall vindicate her trade. 302 And while this famed emporium we prepare, The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those, who now disdain our trade to share, Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast. 303 Already we have conquer'd half the war, And the less dangerous part is left behind: Our trouble now is but to make them dare, And not so great to vanquish as to find. 304 Thus to the Eastern wealth through storms we go, But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more; A constant trade-wind will securely blow, And gently lay us on the spicy shore. * * * * * FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 36: Prince Rupert and General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.]