| A boat, which oft had stem'd the tide, Was by the shore close moored; In which Maria fain would ride, And therefore went on board. |
| Good God! how abject is our race, Condemn'd to slavery and disgrace; Shall we our servitude retain, Because our sires have borne the chain? |
| Go; thou art all unfit to share, The pleasures of this place; With such as its old Tenants are, Creatures of gentle race. |
| In Westminster Abbey lie in grand state, The bones of Kings and Noblemen great, Whose figures in wax and marble are shown, With Generals and Admirals carv'd in stone. |
