To Italy

ot that thy Beauty from the Tramontanes 2Is fenc'd by Mountains of eternal Snow; 2Not that great Jove into the silver Po 2Struck Phaëton, that lost the Solar Reins; Not that the golden Orange on thy Plains, 2And fatt'ning Olives in full Sweetness blow; 2Nor that thy Lakes into Avernus go, 2While sparkling Summer on their Surface reigns; No; nor that that enlighten'd Hill doth shine, 2The Torch of Nature, through the radiant Night, 2Can make thy Coast, O Italy, divine: But this thy Glory, this thy sacred Light; 2That Catalani, whom all Tongues incline 2To speak immortal, is by Birth thy Right.