The English, that this proud return did wait,
More conscious of revenge than guilty fate,
Attempt, with one bold squadron of their fleet,
To render vows, though not their hopes, complete.
Obsequious to their courage, they dispense
Through the sad lake a bloody influence;
Which bears in sight of the unfaithful shore,
And spoils the freight we would have saved before.
Art, fury, all to ruin had designed
These joys of peace, but the enamoured wind,