WEST INDIES. 
229 
CHAP. I.] 
The prating Frank, the Spaniard proud. 
The double Scot, FI IBEBNIAN loud, 
And sullen English own 
The pleasing softness of thy sway. 
And here, transferr’d allegiance pay. 
For gracious is thy throne. 
From East to West, o’er either Ind’ 
Thy scepter sways; thy power we find 
By both the Tropieks felt; 
The blazing Sun that gilds the Zone, 
Waits but the triumph of thy throne, 
Quite round the burning Belt. 
When thou this large domain to view, 
Jamaica’s isle, thy conquest new. 
First left thy native shore. 
Bright was the morn, and soft the breeze. 
With wanton joy the curling seas 
The beauteous burthen bore. 
Of iv’ry was the car, inlaid 
With every shell of lively shade; 
The throne was burnish’d gold: 
The footstool, gay with coral, beam’d. 
The wheels with brightest amber gleam’d. 
And glist’ring round they roll’d. 
