The slaves of despots dropp'd the blunted steel:
Exulting Victory crown'd her favourite child,
And freed Liguria, clapp'd her hands, and smiled.
Nor long the time ere Britain's shores shall greet
The warrior-sage, with gratulation sweet:
Eager to grasp the wreath of naval fame,
The Great Republic plans the Floating Frame!
—O'er the huge frame gigantic Terror stalks,
And counts with joy the close-compacted balks:
Of young-eyed Massacres the Cherub crew