ROUND thy Coasts, Fair Nymph of @3Britain@1, For thy Guard our Waters flow: @3Proteus@1 all his Herds admitting On thy Greens to Graze below. Foreign Lands thy Fishes Tasting Learn from thee Luxurious Fasting. 1 For Folded Flocks, on Fruitful Plains, The Shepherds and the Farmers Gains, Fair @3Britain@1 all the world outvyes; And @3Pan@1, as in @3Arcadia@1 reigns Where Pleasure mixt with Profit lyes. 2 Though @3Jasons@1 Fleece was Fam'd of old, The @3British@1 Wool is growing Gold; No Mines can more of Wealth supply: It keeps the Peasant from the Cold, And takes for Kings the @3Tyrian@1 Dye. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPRING OF THE YEAR by ALLAN CUNNINGHAM THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY DRINKING SONG (5) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE THE PRETTY REDHEAD by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE TO A. E. HOUSMAN by MARGARET ASH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 14. 'I LOVE THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |