From Those Eternal Regions Poem by James Thomson

From those eternal regions bright,
Where suns, that never set in night,
Diffuse the golden day;
Where Spring, unfading, pours around,
O'er all the dew-impearled ground,
Her thousand colours gay;
O whether on the fountain's flowery side,
Whence living waters glide,
Or in the fragrant grove,
Whose shade embosoms peace and love,
New pleasures all our hours employ,
And ravish every sense with every joy!
Great heirs of empire! yet unborn,
Who shall this island late adorn;
A monarch's drooping thought to cheer,
Appear! appear! appear!