There mighty nations shall enquire their doom, Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into thy floods, Bear Britain's thunder, and her Cross display, 386 To the bright regions of the rising day; 391 Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, 395 400 405 Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire! Oh VER. 391.] Here is almost a prophecy of those discoveries of new islands and continents which this country of late years has had the honour to make. Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore, Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves, 411 And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold. 415 420 In brazen bonds shall barb'rous Discord dwell: Enough for me, that to the list'ning swains 426 431 |