He muses o’er his country and her fame,
And dares to claim her empire as his own.
And there, amid the grass, the children play
Around the sun-burnt maidens, as they twine
The bands to bind the golden armfuls tight,
And leave the bristling sheafs, with plenty crowned,
Standing in beauty on the fresh-reap’d hill.
The groaning wagon gathers up the grain
From auburn fields. The yellow sheafs are piled
In ponderous heaps, while one well skilled builds up