Some the galled ropes with dawby marline[155] bind, Or searcloth masts with strong tarpawling[156] coats; To try new shrouds, one mounts into the wind, And one below their ease or stiffness notes. 149. Our careful monarch stands in person by, His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore; The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore. 150. Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men, And ships which all last winter were abroad; And such as fitted since the fight had been, Or new from stocks, were fallen into the road. 151. The goodly London, in her gallant trim, The Phœnix-daughter of the vanished old,[157] Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold. 152. Her flag aloft, spread ruffling to the wind, And sanguine streamers, seem the flood to fire; The weaver, charmed with what his loom designed, Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire. 153. With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves; Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves. 154. This martial present, piously designed, The loyal city give their best-loved king; And, with a bounty ample as the wind, Built, fitted, and maintained, to aid him bring. 155. By viewing nature, nature's handmaid, art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow. 156. Some log, perhaps, upon the waters swam, An useless drift, which, rudely cut within; And hollow'd, first a floating trough became, And cross some rivulet passage did begin. 157. In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, And untaught Indian, on the stream did glide; Ere sharp-keel'd boats to stem the flood did learn, Or fin-like oars did spread from either side. 158. Add but a sail, and Saturn so appeared, When from lost empire he to exile went, And with the golden age to Tyber steer'd, Where coin and commerce first he did invent. 159. Rude as their ships was navigation then; No useful compass or meridian known; Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, And knew no north but when the Pole-star shone. 160. Of all, who since have used the open sea, Than the bold English none more fame have won; Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high way,[158] They make discoveries where they see no sun. 161. But what so long in vain, and yet unknown, By poor mankind's benighted wit is sought, Shall in this age to Britain first be shewn, And hence be to admiring nations taught. 162.