by Robert Herrick

FROM the dull confines of the drooping West
To see the day spring from the pregnant East,
Ravish'd in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly
To thee, bless'd place of my nativity !
Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground,
With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd.
O fruitful Genius ! that bestowest here
An everlasting plenty, year by year.
O place !   O people !   Manners ! fram'd to please
All nations, customs, kindreds, languages !
I am a free-born Roman ; suffer, then,
That I amongst you live a citizen.
London my home is : though by hard fate sent
Into a long and irksome banishment ;
Yet since call'd back ; henceforward let me be,
O native country, repossess'd by thee !
For, rather than I'll to the West return,
I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn.
Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall ;
Give thou my sacred relics burial.

Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol II.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 50.

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