What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold!
Her image floating on that noble tide,
Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,
But now whereon a thousand keels did ride,
Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied,
And to the Lusians did her aid afford,
A nation swoll’n with ignorance and pride,
Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword,
To save them from the wrath of Gaul’s unsparing lord.