To England

Hail, thou my native soil! thou blessed plot Whose equal all the world affordeth not! Show me who can so many crystal rills, Such sweet-clothed valleys or aspiring hills; Such wood-ground, pastures, quarries, wealthy mines; Such rocks in whom the diamond fairly shines; And if the earth can show the like again, Yet will she fail in her sea-ruling men. From Britannia's Pastorals.