HAil to great Neptune Monarch of the Sea!
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Whose dread command the stubborn
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Winds obey.
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And hollow Storms that the clouds bowels tear,
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At his grave nod do dwindle into air.
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Hail to the powerfull Beings of the Skies!
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To the Winds God! and watry Deities!
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Peace to your briny Region; Mortals say;
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And on your rocky Altars Incense lay:
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Since you grew kind, when equal was your
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power
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To save the perishing or to devour.
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But oh the horror of the darknd main!
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But worse the Treachery it did contain.
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Well might the Frigot sink, the Saylors cryd
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When all the Water was Bewhiggifyd.
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When Sails conspird poor Seamen to undo,
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Nay every Rope was a Fanatick too.
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The Compass Presbyterian, which by fits
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Makes the Winds veer as do a Tories Wits;
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Poor Loyal Tories, the curst Whiggish Helm
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Into the boundless Ocean did overwhelm;
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One Curses Fate and Ships; another raves:
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And stead of Whiggs dos fisticuff the Waves;
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Another damming sinks, and swears hel go
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To firk their Coxcombs in the Lake below.
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Perfidious Waves yet threat to trace the Sky,
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Contemn the Gods, and spit on Majesty;
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Daring the Nymphs their actions to controul
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Wildly upon their Watry axles rowl.
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But kinder Heaven dos say it is its will
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The storm should cease, and bids the Sea be still;
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Sends out its Halcyon from the Ark above
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Which dos return with wreaths of grateful
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love.
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