Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
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RGB: 114 54 62
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RGB: 205 102 87
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RGB: 192 160 73
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RGB: 223 167 118
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RGB: 244 207 152
And bright were its flowery banks to his eye;
But far, very far, were the friends that he lov'd,
And he gaz'd on its flowery banks with a sigh.