To the Brazenhead.  

WHat Strepitantious Noise is it that sounds,  
From Raised Banks, or from the Lower Grounds?  
From Hollow Caverns, Labyrinths from afar,  
Threatening Confusions of a Dreadful War?  
What Dismal Cries of people in Despair  
Fill the vast Region of the Troubled Air?  
The Tune of Horror, or of what's as strange,  
That strikes uneven like a World of Change,  
With such a Bold Surprise attacks my Sense,  
Beyond the Power of Counsel or Defence?  
But tho' Blind Fortune rolls her turning Wheel  
With a perpetual Motion, who can feel  
This Surge of Fate, pushed on with Fire and Steel?  
You precious Moment's of Serener Days!  
When many Victories enlarged my Praise,  
And all things ran in a most easy Stream,  
Back unto me their Ocean and Supreme.  
Are you all vanished by the sudden Fright,  
And left my encompassed with a Dismal Night?  
By my own Subjects in suspicion held,  
Murmurings, as bad as if they had Rebelled?  
You all Controlling Powers of things above!  
Whose easier Dictates guide the World by Love!  
Avert th' Impendent Miseries, and show  
Us Earthly Gods to Govern here below!   

The Answer.  
'TIS well you've thought upon the chiefest Cause  
Change nothing of Religion nor the Laws,  
And then no Discontent shall here Invade,  
For Thiefs would enter out of a Bravade,  
To rectify all wrongs, when their Intent  
'S themselves t' enrich, and not the Government.  
Let the Great Monarch this good Motto wear,  
Not only in his Arms but every where.  
Integer Vitae, is my whole Defence,  
Scelerisque purus, a most strong Defence;  
Non eget Mauri, that no Forces need,  
Jaculis nec Arcu, which Contentions breed:  
Nec venenatis gravida Sagittis  
Pharetra, to make Loyal his own Cities.   
FINIS.