There, triumphs to enjoy, are, Britain, thine,
There, thy proud navy awes the pillag'd shore;
Nor sees the day when nations shall combine
That pride to humble and our rights restore.
96
Yet o'er the globe shouldst thou extend thy reign,
Here may thy conquering arms one grotto spare;
Here—though thy conquest vex—in spite of pain,
I quaff the enlivening glass, in spite of care.
97
What, though we bend to a tyrannic crown;
Still Nature's charms in varied beauty shine—
What though we own the proud imperious Dane,
Gold is his sordid care, the Muses mine.
98
Winter, and winter's glooms are far remov'd;
Eternal spring with smiling summer join'd;—
Absence and death, and heart-corroding care,
Why should they cloud the sun-shine of the mind?
99
But, shepherd, haste, and leave behind thee far
Thy bloody plains, and iron glooms above,
Quit the cold northern star, and here enjoy,
Beneath the smiling skies, this land of love.
100