Built on the Top of the Exchange Steeple[7]; with a Prophecy, by One of the Crows, of what is to happen the Nation, and particularly the Town of Newcastle.
When war’s destructive rage did cease,
In fatal, humbling, eighty-three,[8]
And men were blest again with peace,
We wond’rous prodigies did see.
The Thirteen (once prescribed) States,
Doom’d by the hangman’s cord to die;
Great kings (so th’ will’d all pow’rful fates)
Before them almost prostrate lie.
Then fair Italia’s classic ground,