Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts The laughing Chloris, [Q] with profusest hand, Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you 80 Pomona seeks to dwell; and o'er the lawns, And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames Ye love to wander, Amalthea [R] pours, Well-pleased, the wealth of that Ammonian horn, Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles Nysaean or Atlantic. Nor canst thou (Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, O Bromius, O Lenaean), nor canst thou Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, 90 With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me, Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. [S] For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, As down the verdant slope your duteous rills Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, Delighted; and your piety applauds; And bids his copious tide roll on secure, For faithful are his daughters; and with words 100 Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, When Hermes, [T] from Olympus bent o'er earth To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill Stoops lightly sailing; oft intent your springs He views: and waving o'er some new-born stream His bless'd pacific wand, 'And yet,' he cries, 'Yet,' cries the son of Maia, 'though recluse 110 And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs, Flows wealth and kind society to men. By you my function and my honour'd name Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic rale, Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct The English merchant; with the buxom fleece Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, 120 Dispense the mineral treasure [U] which of old Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land Was yet unconscious of those generous arts, Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime Transplanted to a more indulgent heaven.'