On the Report of a Wooden Bridge to be Built at Westminster

By Rufus' hall, where Thames polluted flows,
Provoked, the Genius of the river rose,
And thus exclaimed : ' Have I, ye British swains,
Have I for ages laved your fertile plains ?
Given herds, and flocks, and villages increase,
And fed a richer than the golden fleece ?
Have I, ye merchants, with each swelling tide,
Poured Afric's treasure in, and India's pride ?
Lent you the fruit of every nation's toil ?
Made every climate yours, and every soil ?
Yet, pilfered from the poor, by gaming base,
Yet must a wooden bridge my waves disgrace ?
Tell not to foreign streams the shameful tale,
And be it published in no Gallic vale.'
He said ; and, plunging to his crystal dome,
White o'er his head the circling waters foam.