143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent,
       His navy’s molted wings he imps once more: 
     Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent,
       And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore.

 144 All hands employ’d, the royal work grows warm: 
       Like labouring bees on a long summer’s day,
     Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm. 
       And some on bells of tasted lilies play.

 145 With gluey wax some new foundations lay
       Of virgin-combs, which from the roof are hung: 
     Some arm’d, within doors upon duty stay,
       Or tend the sick, or educate the young.

 146 So here some pick out bullets from the sides,
       Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift: 
     Their left hand does the calking-iron guide,
       The rattling mallet with the right they lift.

 147 With boiling pitch another near at hand,
       From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops: 
     Which well paid o’er, the salt sea waves withstand,
       And shakes them from the rising beak in drops.

 148 Some the gall’d ropes with dauby marline bind,
       Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpaulin coats: 
     To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind,
       And one below their ease or stiffness notes.

 149 Our careful monarch stands in person by,
       His new-cast cannons’ firmness to explore: 
     The strength of big-corn’d powder loves to try,
       And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore.

 150 Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men,
       And ships which all last winter were abroad;
     And such as fitted since the fight had been,
       Or, new from stocks, were fallen into the road.

 151 The goodly London in her gallant trim
       (The Phoenix daughter of the vanish’d old). 
     Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim,
       And on her shadow rides in floating gold.

 152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind,
       And sanguine streamers seem the flood to fire;
     The weaver, charm’d with what his loom design’d,
       Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire.

 153 With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength,
       Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves;
     Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length,
       She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.

 154 This martial present, piously design’d,
       The loyal city give their best-loved King: 
     And with a bounty ample as the wind,
       Built, fitted, and maintain’d, to aid him bring.

 155 By viewing Nature, Nature’s handmaid, Art,
       Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: 
     Thus fishes first to shipping did impart,
       Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.

 156 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam,
       An useless drift, which, rudely cut within,
     And, hollow’d, first a floating trough became,
       And cross some rivulet passage did begin.