To yield obsequious, and confess their queen.
Th’ imperial trident graced her dexter hand,
Of power to rule the surge like Moses’ wand;
Th’ eternal empire of the main to keep,
And guide her squadrons o’er the trembling deep.
Her left, propitious, bore a mystic shield,
Around whose margin rolls the watery field;
There her bold genius in his floating car
O’er the wild billow hurls the storm of war:
And lo! the beasts that oft with jealous rage