Deem not, O England! that by climes confined,
Genius and taste diffuse a partial ray;[55]
Deem not the eternal energies of mind
Sway’d by that sun whose doom is but decay!
Shall thought be foster’d but by skies serene?
No! thou hast power to be what Athens e’er hath been.
C.
But thine are treasures oft unprized, unknown,
And cold neglect hath blighted many a mind,
O’er whose young ardours had thy smile but shone,