COMPOSED ON EASTER SUNDAY
Erewhile to celebrate this glorious morn
That saw the unvanquished Saviour of mankind
Rise from the grave, the Ruler and the Hind
Put on fresh raiment, till that hour unworn,
Fair cloth of home-bred wool which he had shorn,
Her hands had spun, culling her daintiest fleece,
Such reverence paid they to the Prince of Peace.
O blest estate, when Piety sublime
These humble props disdained not! Are thy flowers
Banished for aye, from Britain's hills and vales
Extinct, or lingering in a happier clime,
Where our abused inventions are unknown
And benefits are weighed in Reason's scales?