Classic Poem

WHEN SHE WAS TAKING LEAVE OF THE COURT AT DOVER .

That sun of beauty did among us rise;
England first saw the light of your fair eyes;
In English, too, your early wit was shown;
Favour that language, which was then your own,
When, though a child, through guards you made your way;
What fleet or army could an angel stay?
Thrice happy Britain! if she could retain
Whom she first bred within her ambient main.
Our late burned London, in apparel new,
Shook off her ashes to have treated you;
But we must see our glory snatched away,
And with warm tears increase the guilty sea;
No wind can favour us; howe'er it blows,
We must be wrecked, and our dear treasure lose!
Sighs will not let us half our sorrows tell, —
Fair, lovely, great, and best of nymphs, farewell!