Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/82

 The throng of heroes in her splendid streets, The snowy vest of peace, or purple robe, Slow trail'd triumphal ? where the Attic Fleece, And Tarentine, in warmest litter'd cots, Or sunny meadows, cloth'd with costly care ? All in the solitude of ruin lost, War's horrid carnage, vain Ambition's dust. Long lay the mournful realms of elder Fame In gloomy desolation, till appear'd Beauteous Venetia, first of all the nymphs Who from the melancholy waste emerg'd : In Adria's gulf her clotted locks she lav'd, And rose another Venus : each soft joy, Each aid of life, her busy wit restor'd ; Science reviv'd, with all the lovely Arts, And all the Graces. Restituted Trade To every virtue lent his helping stores, And cheer'd the vales around ; again the pipe And bleating flocks awak'd the cheerful lawn. The glossy Fleeces now, of prime esteem, Soft Asia boasts, where lovely Cassimere, Within a lofty mound of circling hills, Spreads her delicious stores ; woods, rocks, caves, lakes, Hills, lawns, and winding streams ; a region term'd The Paradise of Indus. Next the plains Of Lahor, by that arbour stretch'd immense, Thro' many a realm, to Agra, the proud throne Of India's worshipp'd prince, whose lust is law : Remote dominions, nor to ancient fame Nor modern known, till public-hearted Roe, Faithful, sagacious, active, patient, brave, Led to their distant climes advent'rous trade. Add, too, the silky wool of Libyan lands, Of Caza's bowery dales, and brooky Caus, Where lofty Atlas spreads his verdant feet,