XVI. What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold! Her image floating on that noble tide, Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold, But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied, And to the Lusians did her aid afford A nation swoll'n with ignorance and pride, Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword. To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.
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