“Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sunWhen first on this delightful land he spreadsHis orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower.Glist’ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earthAfter soft showers; and sweet the coming onOf grateful ev’ning mild, then silent nightWith this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,

And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.”