Thomson（2 / 2）
by tweed erects his aged head,
and sees, with self-approving mind,
each creature on his bounty fed.
while maniac winter rages o'er
the hills whence classic yarrow flows,
rousing the turbid torrent's roar,
or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows.
so long, sweet poet of the year!
shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won;
while scotia, with exulting tear,
proclaims that thomson was her son.
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