51. 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 flyTo 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 hereAn everlasting plenty year by year;O place! O people! manners! framed to pleaseAll nations, customs, kindreds, languages!I am a free-born Roman; suffer thenThat I amongst you live a citizen.London my home is; though by hard fate sentInto 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 reliques burial.