Sadly dejected, fair Britannia sat,
Imploring thus the Genius of her State,
Rise to my Aid, she cry'd, some Hero rise,

Protect my Person, and my Foes chastize:
Each Bosom heav'd a Sigh, with Fear dismay'd,
Till George arose to save the drooping Maid:
Elate with Joy, Britannia view'd the Chief,
Resolv'd to perish, or to end her Grief:

Warren, he said, 's my Substitute to save,
As cool in Council, as in Action brave;
Rouz'd to the War, my Thunder he shall pour,
Round Gallia's Coast, and proud Iberia's Shore;
Exacting Vengeance with so strict a Hand,
Nor more thy Foes can give, nor Thou demand.