But, godlike, his unweary’d bounty flows:
First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his blessings to his banks confined,
But free and common, as the sea or wind;
When he, to boast, or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tribute of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying towers,
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where ’tis, bestows it where it wants,
Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants.