She said, when lo! a storm arose,
Which first her Fav'rites discompose:
Her China next disorder'd shakes,
And see! the Chimney, how it quakes!
The Palace totters to its fall,
And down comes China, Chimney, all!
What shall she do? or whither run?
Behold in dust her Bed of down!
Yet, , let it ne'er be said,
You know not where to lay your head.
What! shrinking back, now danger's near!
A Soldier's Daughter too, and fear!
Where, where's that Fortitude you boast?
The Post of Danger's Virtue's Post:
And thunder, lighten, rain, or shine,
The  still is Thine.