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Of gratulation and delight her king ? Pours she not all her choiceft fruits abroad, Her sweetest flowers, her aromatic gums, Disclosing paradife wherever he treads ? She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps . And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot. The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke, For he has touched them. From the extremeft point Of elevation down into the abyss His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt. The rocks fall headlong, and the vallies rise, The rivers die into offensive pools, And, charged with putrid verdure, breathe a gross And mortal nuisance into all the air. What folid was, by transformation strange, Grows fluid; and the fixt and rooted earth, Tormented into billows, heaves and swells, Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs And agonies of human and of brute Multitudes, fugitive on every fide, And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene Migrates uplifted; and, with all its soil Alighting in far diftant fields, finds out

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Such evil fin hath wrought; and such a flame Kindled in heaven, that it burns down to earth,

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England, with all thy faults, I love thee ftill.My country! and, while yet a nook is left, Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrained to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed With dripping rains, or withered by a frost,

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