 | The Poems of Ambrose Philips |  |
But who advances next, with chearful grace,
Joy in her eye, and plenty in her face?
A wheaten garland does her head adorn,
O Property! O goddess, English-born!
Where hast thou been? How did the wealthy mourn!
The bankrupt nation sigh'd for thy return,
Doubtful for whom her spreading funds were fill'd,
Her fleets were freighted, and her fields were till'd.
Joy in her eye, and plenty in her face?
A wheaten garland does her head adorn,
O Property! O goddess, English-born!
Where hast thou been? How did the wealthy mourn!
The bankrupt nation sigh'd for thy return,
Doubtful for whom her spreading funds were fill'd,
Her fleets were freighted, and her fields were till'd.
| The Poems of Ambrose Philips | |