Our mighty Master Neptune calls aloud,
The Zephyrs gently blow,
The Tritons cry, You are too slow,
10For every Sea-nymph of the glittering crowd
Has garlands ready to throw down
When you ascend your wat'ry throne.
III.
See, see! she comes, she comes, and now adieu!
Let's bid adieu to shore,
And to all we fear'd before;