Or where stout Nore winds on his waters grey; 10
By sedgy Lee, and Bandon’s Woods among,
Or Spenser’s Mulla, where he wept and sung—
Health to the Muses’ Judge, the Muses’ friend,
The last and meanest of her vot’ries send.
Health to her Grace; both ours and Dublin’s pride—
Yet chiefly ours, nor we the boast divide!
Tho’ like the Sun she quits her favourite Line
And deigns awhile in colder climes to shine:
Let not the children of the pole aver