Queen of sweet numbers and melodious strains,
If yet thou deign to visit Britain's plains;
If yet thy hallow'd haunts partake thy love,
Clear spring, enamel'd vale, or bowery grove;
O come, and range with me th' aspiring glades,
Where Leicester spreads the lawns and forms the shades,
On Holkham's plains bid Graecian structures rise,
And the tall column shoot into the skies:
Beneath whose proud survey, extended wide,
New scenes, new beauties charm on every side:
Here, crown'd with woods, the shaded hills ascend,
In open light there the low vales extend;
Here in rich harvests waves the ripen'd grain,
And there fresh verdure cloaths the pastur'd plain,
Sweetly intermix'd, and lovely to behold,
As the green emerald enchas'd in gold.