The Thames

Alexander Pope

(From Windsor Forest)


THOU too, great father of the British floods!

With joyful pride survey’st our lofty woods;

Where towering oaks their growing honors rear,

And future navies on thy shores appear.

Not Neptune’s self from all her streams receives

A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.

No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,

No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.

Nor Po so swells the fabling poet’s lays,

While led along the skies his current strays,

As thine, which visits Windsor’s famed abodes,

To grace the mansion of our earthly gods:

Nor all his stars above a lustre show,

Like the bright beauties on thy banks below;

Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,

Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.