‘Gave answers from their caves, and took what shapes they please:
‘Ye happy islands set within the British seas,
‘With shrill and jocund shouts, th’unmeasur’d deeps awake,
‘And let the Gods of sea their secret bowr’s forsake,
‘Whilst our industrious muse Great Britain forth shall bring,
‘Crown’d with those glorious wreaths that beautify the spring;
‘And whilst green Thetis’ nymphs, with many an amorous lay
‘Sing our invention safe unto her long-wisht bay.’
Upon the utmost end of Cornwal’s furrowing beak,
Where[58] Bresan from the land the tilting waves doth break;