O never may cross wind, or swelling wave,
20Conspire to make the treach'rous sands thy grave:
Nor envious rocks, in their white foamy laugh,
Rejoice to wear thy loss's Epitaph.
But may the smoothest, most successful gales
Distend thy sheet, and wing thy flying sails:
That all designs which must on thee embark,
May be securely plac'd, as in the Ark.
May'st thou, where'er thy streamers shall display,
Enforce the bold disputers to obey: