There, in full light, the russet plains extend;
There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills extend.
Ev’n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise,
That, crown’d with tufted trees and fringing corn,
Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn.
Let India boast her plants, nor envy we
The weeping amber or the balmy tree,
While by our oaks the precious loads are borne
And realms commanded which those trees adorn.