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10.

COMPOSED IN THE

VALLEY, near DOVER,

On the Day of landing.

Dear fellow Traveller! here we are once more.The Cock that crows, the Smoke that curls, that soundOf Bells, those Boys that in yon meadow-groundIn white sleev'd shirts are playing by the score,And even this little River's gentle roar,All, all are English. Oft have I look'd roundWith joy in Kent's green vales; but never foundMyself so satisfied in heart before.Europe is yet in Bonds; but let that pass,Thought for another moment. Thou art freeMy Country! and 'tis joy enough and prideFor one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grassOf England once again, and hear and see,With such a dear Companion at my side.
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