Hail, Thou My Native Soil! Thou Blessed Plot Whose Equal All The World Affordeth Not! Show Me Who Can So Many Crystal Rills, Such Sweet-Clothed Valleys Or Aspiring Hills; Such Wood-Ground, Pastures, Quarries, Wealthy Mines; Such Rocks In Whom The Diamond Fairly Shines; And If The Earth Can Show The Like Again, Yet Will She Fail In Her Sea-Ruling Men. From Britannia'S Pastorals.