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Ere Persia’s vase the Attar’s sweets distills,
Plucked are the roses of a thousand hills;
From distant realms the treasured bloom is brought,
And with an empire’s sweet each drop is fraught;
And, ere the master of the Grecian art
Could to his loveliest work its grace impart,
He, ’midst Ionia’s nymphs, his search pursued,
Their smiles he treasured, and their loves he wooed;
Blended their beauties for his Paphian throne,
Where in one form the charms of thousands shone.
—Dear Croker, thus
to grace thy wondrous mind,
Unnumbered merits the favouring Heaven combined—
From various climes thy various merits come,
Some foreign grown, and some matured at home:
From France, that soul on moral reasoning bent;
From Belgium, wit by bright Clancarty sent:
From the damp vallies of thy native shore,
Thy blushing modesty, thy classic lore;
Thy generous love of liberty from Spain;
Thy taste from realms beyond the western main;—
From the bold sons of fair Italia’s clime,
Thy manly strength and energy sublime:
Thy charity from Algiers’ sandy vales;
Thy frankness, spirit, truth, from New South Wales.
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