Some for the pride of Turkish courts designed,
For folded turbans finest Holland bear.
207.
Some English wool vexed in a Belgian loom,
And into cloth of spongy softness made,
Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom,
To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.
208.
Our greedy seamen rummage every hold,
Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest;