IV.

  Ye blustering brethren of the skies,
    Whose breath has ruffled all the watery plain,
  Retire, and let Britannia rise,
    In triumph o’er the main. 
  Serene and calm, and void of fear,
  The Queen of Islands must appear: 
  Serene and calm, as when the Spring
    The new-created world began,
  And birds on boughs did softly sing
  Their peaceful homage paid to man;
  While Eurus did his blasts forbear,
  In favour of the tender year. 
  Retreat, rude winds, retreat
  To hollow rocks, your stormy seat;
  There swell your lungs, and vainly, vainly threat.

  V.

  Foe folded flocks, on fruitful plains,
  The shepherd’s and the farmer’s gains,
    Fair Britain all the world outvies;
  And Pan, as in Arcadia, reigns,
    Where pleasure mix’d with profit lies.

  Though Jason’s fleece was famed of old,
  The British wool is growing gold;
    No mines can more of wealth supply;
  It keeps the peasant from the cold,
    And takes for kings the Tyrian dye.

  VI.

  Fairest isle, all isles excelling,
    Seat of pleasures and of loves;
  Venus here will choose her dwelling,
    And forsake her Cyprian groves.

  Cupid from his favourite nation
    Care and envy will remove;
  Jealousy, that poisons passion,
    And despair, that dies for love,

  Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining,
    Sighs, that blow the fire of love;
  Soft repulses, kind disdaining,
    Shall be all the pains you prove.

  Every swain shall pay his duty,
    Grateful every nymph shall prove;
  And as these excel in beauty,
    Those shall be renown’d for love.

* * * * *

XVIII.

SONG OF JEALOUSY, IN LOVE TRIUMPHANT.

  What state of life can be so blest
  As love, that warms a lover’s breast? 
  Two souls in one, the same desire
  To grant the bliss, and to require! 
  But if in heaven a hell we find,
  ’Tis all from thee,
  O Jealousy! 
  ’Tis all from thee,
  O Jealousy! 
  Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
  Thou tyrant of the mind! 
  All other ills, though sharp they prove,
  Serve to refine, and perfect love: 
  In absence, or unkind disdain,
  Sweet hope relieves the lover’s pain. 
  But, ah! no cure but death we find,
  To set us free
  From Jealousy: 
  O Jealousy! 
  Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
  Thou tyrant of the mind!

  False in thy glass all objects are,
  Some set too near, and some too far;
  Thou art the fire of endless night,
  The fire that burns, and gives no light. 
  All torments of the damn’d we find
  In only thee,
  O Jealousy! 
  Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
  Thou tyrant of the mind!