Yet if rough Neptune rouze the wind,
To wave the azure main,
Our paper, pen and ink, and we,
Roll up and down our ships at sea,
With a la fa, &c.
III.

Then if we write not, by each post,
Think not, we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost,
By Dutchmen or by wind:
Our tears, we'll send a speedier way,
The tide shall waft them twice a day.
With a fa, &c.

IV.

The king with wonder, and surprize,
Will swear the seas grow bold;
Because the tides will higher rise,
Then e'er they did of old:
But let him knew it is our tears,
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-Stairs.
With a fa, &c.

V.

Should foggy Opdam chance to know;
Our sad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,