By that I call; its power confess:
With growing gifts thy suppliants bless,
Who with full sails in many a light-oared boat,
On thy jasper bosom float;
Nor frown, dread goddess, on a peerless race,
With liberal heart and martial grace,
Wafted from colder isles remote:
As they preserve our laws and bid our terror cease,
So be their darling laws preserved, in wealth, in joy, in peace!"
Sir W. Jones.