Symphony

NEREID, PAN
 Round thy coast, fair nymph of Britain,
 For thy guard our waters flow:
 Proteus all his herd admitting
 On thy green to graze below:
 Foreign lands thy fish are tasting;
 Learn from thee luxurious fasting.
 [bad word]  Round thy coast, fair nymph of Britain, etc.

ALTO, TENOR, BASS
 For folded flocks, and [bad word] plains,
 The shepherd's and the farmer's gains,
 Fair Britain all the world outvies;
 And Pan, as in Arcadia, reigns
 Where pleasure mix'd with profit lies.
 Tho' Jason's fleece was fam'd of old,
 The British wool is growing gold;
 No mines can more of wealth supply:
 It keeps the peasants from the cold,
 And takes for kings the Tyrian dye.