His Return to London

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, blest place of my nativity!

Thus, thus with hallow'd 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.