"I see thee breathing on the barren moor,
" That seems to bloom although so bleak before;
"There, if beneath the gorse the primrose spring,
" Or the pied daisy smile below the ling,
"They shall new charms, at thy command, disclose,
" And none shall miss the myrtle or the rose.
"The wiry moss, that whitens all the hill,
" Shall live a beauty by thy matchless skill;
"Gale from the bog shall yield Arabian balm,
" And the grey willow wave a golden palm.