Spring

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough!

And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales,

Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun,

Luxuriant, and unbounded! As the sea,

Far thro' his azure turbulent domain,

Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores

Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports;

So with superior boon may your rich soil,

Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour

O'er every land, the naked nations cloathe,

And be th' exhaustless granary of a world!

Nor thro' the lenient air this change,

Delicious, breathes; the penetrative sun,

His force deep-darting to the dark retreat

Of vegetation, sets the steaming Power

At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth,

In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green!

Thou smiling Nature's universal robe!

United light and shade! where the sight dwells

With growing strength, and ever-new delight.