II.

O spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes, With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn; And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn! Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies, And England, triumphant, display her proud Rose: A fairer than either adorns the green valleys, Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

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