We wish, we hope, we pray, and will pray on,
Till we have gained heaven’s favour in a son:
That then we may the whole salute repeat,
And make our joys, as well as that, complete.
Ye mitred heads assist, call to assize,
Your strongest zeals, and with them storm the skies;
We know that fervent prayer did never fail,
And let Rome know such heretics can prevail,
And with a holy violence pluck down,
A real issue to support the crown,
Whilst their addresses to Loretto made,
Did only gain a son in masquerade.
