Ting’d by the orient sun arise,
With golden vanes invite the gale.—
Triumphant ladies of the vale!
Down yon mid-vale the british Nile,[[14]]
Fair Dove, comes winding many a mile;
And from his copious urn distils
The fatness of a thousand hills.
Swell, generous river, leave thy banks,
The thirsty soil shall give thee thanks!—
The generous river swells, and leads