And of her sisters seems the queen;
Proud from her ancient seats to trace
The lineage of a generous race.
“That generous race,” fair Sudbury cries,
“Is mine,” and bids her turrets rise,
Lifts from the lap of peace her dome,
Where finds Munificence a home;
Then wide her shining lake she leads
Through blossom’d groves and emerald meads,
Cloaths with dark woods the distant scene,