20
SONNET TO ITALY.
For thee, Ausonia! Nature's bounteous hand,
Luxuriant spreads around her blooming stores:
Profusion laughs o'er all the glowing land,
And softest breezes fan [1] thy myrtle-shores.
Yet though for thee, unclouded suns diffuse
Their genial radiance o'er thy blushing plains;
Though in thy fragrant groves the sportive muse
Delights to pour her wild, enchanted strains;
Though airs that breathe of paradise are thine,
Sweet as the Indian, or Arabian gales;
Though fruitful olive and empurpling vine,
Enrich, fair Italy! thy Alpine vales;
Yet far from thee inspiring freedom flies,
To Albion's coast and ever-varying skies!
- ↑ see errata—original has from
