But e'er he gave the mighty
Which ever binds a
(For which his Curls Ambrosial shake,
And Mother  oblig'd to quake:)
He saw old Mother  arise,
She stood confess'd before his Eyes;
But not with what we read she wore,
A Castle for a Crown before,
Nor with long Streets and longer Roads
Dangling behind her, like Commodes:
As yet with Wreaths alone she drest,
And trail'd a Landskip-painted Vest.
Then thrice she rais'd, (as  said)
And thrice she bow'd, her weighty Head.