Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/145

And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 1435
The stretching landskip into smoke decays!
Happy Britannia! where the Queen of Arts,
Inspiring vigor, Liberty abroad
Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy farthest cotts,
And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 1440

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime;
Thy streams unfailing in the summer's drought;
Unmatch'd thy guardian-oaks; thy valleys float
With golden waves: and on thy mountains fllocks
Bleat numberless; while roving round their sides, 1445
Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves.
Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd
Against the mower's scythe. On every hand,
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth;
And property assures it to the swain, 1450
Pleas'd, and unwearied, in his guarded toil.

Full are thy cities with the sons of art;
And trade and joy, in every busy street,
Mingling are heard: even drudgery him self,
As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews 1455
The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crouded ports,
Where rising masts an endless prospect yield,
With labour burn, and echo to the shouts
Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves
His last adieu, and loosening every sheet, 1460
Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind.

Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth;
By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fir'd,
Scattering the nations where they go; and first

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