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Nor are his blessings to his banks confin'd,
But free and common as the sea or wind;
When he to boast or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying towers
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours ;
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants,
Cities in deserts, woods in cities, plants.
So that to us no thing, no place, is strange,
While his fair bosom is the world's exchange.
Oh, could I flow like thee! and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme:
Though deep, yet clear ; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing, full.
The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear,
That had the self-enamour'd youth gaz’d here,
So fatally deceiv'd he had not been,
While he the bottom, not his face, had seen.

When love with unconfined wings,

Hovers within my gates,
And divine Althea brings,

To whisper at my grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,

And fettered with her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air,

Know no such liberty.
When flowing cups run swiftly round,

With no allaying Thames,
Our careless heads with roses bound..

Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep,

Know no such liberty.
When linnet like confinéd, I

With shriller tone shall sing,


The mercy, sweetness, majesty,

And glories of my king;
When I shall voice aloud, how good

He is, how great should be,
The enlargéd winds that curl the flood.

Know no such liberty.
Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage,
Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage.
If I have freedom in my love,-

And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind

To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,

The first foe in the field ;
And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such,

As you too shall adore :
I could not love thee, dear, so much,

Loved I not honour more.



Where the remote Bermudas ride,
In the ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that row'd along,
The list’ning winds receiv'd their song.
What should we do, but sing His praise
That led us through the wat’ry maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own'

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“Where he the huge sea-monsters racks,
That lift the deep upon their backs:
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms and Prelates' rage.
"He gave us this eternal Spring
Which here enamels every thing,
And sends the fowls to us in care,
On daily visits through the air.
“He hangs in shades the orange bright,
Like golden lamps in a green night,
And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound his name.
“Oh! let our voice His praise exalt
Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,
Which then perhaps rebounding may
Echo beyond the Mexique bay."
Thus sang they in the English boat,
A holy and a cheerful note,
And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.

Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Should’st rubies find : I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would

you ten years before the flood; And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze ; Two hundred to adore each breast; But thirty thousand to the rest : An age at least to every part : And the last age should show your heart. .

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