v.
Roll on, majestic flood, in power and pride,
Which like a sea doth swell old ocean's sway;—
With hasting keel, thy pale-fac'd sponsors glide
To keep the pageant of thy christening day.
They bless thy wave, they bid thee leave unsung
The uncouth baptism of a barbarous tongue,
And take his name,—the Stuart's,—first to bind
The Scottish thistle in the lion's mane,
Of all old Albion's kings, most versatile and vain.
vi.
Spring robes the vales. With what a flood of light
She holds her revels in this sunny clime;—
The flower-sown turf, like bossy velvet bright,
The blossom'd trees exulting in their prime;
The leaping streamlets in their joyous play,
The birds that frolic 'mid the diamond spray,
Or heavenward soar, with melody sublime:—
What wild enchantment spreads a fairy wing,
As from their prisoning ships the enfranchis'd strangers spring.
vii.
Their tents are pitch'd, their spades have broke the soil,
The strong oak thunders, as it topples down,
Their lily-handed youths essay the toil,
