Thorough the centre their new-catched miles;
And to the stake a struggling country bound,
Where barking waves still bait the forcéd ground;
Building their watery Babel far more high
To reach the sea, than those to scale the sky.
Yet still his claim the injured ocean laid,
And oft at leap-frog o’er their steeples played;
As if on purpose it on land had come
To shew them what’s their mare liberum.
A daily deluge over them does boil;