BUT now again our winged Sails we spread,
Again we visit  sylvan Shade;
Where, parting from my Friend, I mount my Steed,
And, o'er the Wilds of  urge his Speed:
Wilds, which were lately sterile, as the Coast,
Where patient CATO march'd his fainting Host!
Nor could the Swain explore a cooling Shade,
When fervid PHOEBUS burnt his glowing Head;
Till CHANDOS bad the dreary Desert smile
With verdant Groves, and beautify'd the Soil:
He said; ten thousand Trees adorn'd the Plain,
Ten thousand Shades, delightful to the Swain.