The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;
In every clime, the magnet[424] of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole:
3. For in this land of heaven’s peculiar grace,
The heritage[425] of nature’s noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely[426] blest,
A dearer, sweeter pot than all the rest,
Where man, creation’s tyrant, casts aside