The PINKS and ARBUTUS.
I.
Virtue, the growth of ev’ry clime,
Alike should be rever’d;
Whether from distant regions brought,
Or in our country rear’d.
II.
Rome, the great mistress of the world,
Such height had ne’er attain’d;
The train of worth in ev’ry land
Had her proud sons disdain’d.
III.
From foreign arms, from foreign arts,
Her native glory rose;
And more than half her boasted state
She borrow’d from her foes.
IV.
Vain is that boast of selfish pride,
Which deems no worth is found,
But in the narrow sphere confin’d
Of its own native ground.
V.
Though not to foreign lands, untaught,
We need for Virtue roam;
Yet real Virtue, nurs’d abroad,
Should be rever’d at home.—
VI.
On fair Ierne’s happy shore
A tall ARBUTUS plac’d,
Bloom’d near a sweetly-cultur’d spot,
By PINKS unnumber’d grac’d,
VII.
’Twas on the border of that lake,
Where vary’d prospects rise,
Of sunny hills, o’er-hanging rocks,
And low’ring misty skies;