And fill'd with plenty, tho' dry sandy wastes
Spread naked round; so great the power of trade. 275
Persia few ports: more happy Indostan
Beholds Surat and Goa on her coasts,
And Bombay's wealthy isle, and harbour fam'd,
Supine beneath the shade of cocoa groves.
But what avails or many ports or few, 280
Where wild Ambition frequent from his lair
Starts up, while fell Revenge and Famine lead
To havoc, reckless of the tyrant's whip,
Which clanks along the vallies? Oft in vain
The merchant seeks upon the strand whom erst, 285
Associated by trade, he deck'd and cloath'd:
In vain whom rage or famine has devour'd
He seeks, and with increas'd affection thinks
On Britain. Still howe'er Bombaya's wharfs
Pile up blue indigo, and, of frequent use, 290
Pungent salt-petre, woods of purple grain,
And many-colour'd saps from leaf and flower,
And various gums; the cloathier knows their worth;
And wool resembling cotton, shorn from trees,
Nor to the Fleece unfriendly, whether mix'd 295
In warp or woof, or with the line of flax,
Or softer silk's material, tho' its aid
To vulgar eyes appears not. Let none deem
The Fleece in any traffic unconcern'd;
By every traffic aided, while each work 300
Of art yields wealth to exercise the loom,
And every loom employs each hand of art.
Nor is there wheel in the machine of trade
Which Leeds or Cairo, Lima or Bombay,
Helps not, with harmony, to turn around, 305
Tho' all unconscious of the union act.
Few the peculiars of Canara's realm,
Or sultry Malabar, where it behoves
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THE POEMS OF JOHN DYER.
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