Indomitable ship, the Briton round
Look’d, on his power and glory to rely,
And boastful cried, “Companions renown’d!
See, there they come: new trophies to attain
Wait your unconquer’d arms; the feeble pines
That Spain prepares for her defence in vain:
Fate from our yoke exemption none assigns.
We are the sons of Neptune. Do they dare
To plough the waves before us? Call to mind
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