And Thou! O goodly omen'd trust, all-dear[1]6
to Lusitania's olden liberty,
whereon assurèd esperance we rear
enforced to see our frail Christianity:
Thou, O new terror to the Moorish spear,
the fated marvel of our century,
to govern worlds of men by God so given,
that the world's best be given to God and Heaven:
Thou young, thou tender, ever-flourishing bough,7
true scion of tree by Christ belovèd more,
than aught that Occident did ever know,
"Cæsarian" or "Most Christian" styled before:
Look on thy 'scutcheon, and behold it show
the present Vict'ory long past ages bore;
Arms which He gave and made thine own to be
by Him assumèd on the fatal tree:[2]
Thou, mighty Sovran! o'er whose lofty reign8
the rising Sun rains earliest smile of light;
sees it from middle firmamental plain;
and sights it sinking on the breast of Night:
Thou, whom we hope to hail the blight, the bane
of the dishonour'd Ishmaëlitish knight;
and Orient Turk, and Gentoo-misbeliever
that drinks the liquor of the Sacred River:[3]
