stanzas.
105
Thy deathless numbers sound in every home;
Dearly familiar is each matchless lay;
Hearts vibrate to them in th' Imperial dome,
Whilst round cot hearths congenial pulses play.
All bosoms share the universal pride
With which this sacred day is set apart;
Whilst gratitude lets loose the gushing tide
Of feeling, deep in peer and peasant's heart.
Lovers of song to-day from sister lands
Meet on the shores by Burns immortalised;
By Caledon is grasped the regal hands,
Whose pressure speaks how well they sympathised.
Fair Albion, with her brow 'neath helmet's shade,
Imperial trident, and her mystic shield,
With azure mantle o'er her shoulders laid,
Comes smiling, honour to the Bard to yield.
And Erin, robed in undulating green,
The dew-fresh shamrock glistening round her head,
With golden harp, appears upon the scene
To weave her garlands o'er the illustrious dead:
Whilst Caledonia bends her high-plumed crest,
To hide the tear that o'er her flushed cheek falls.
Remorse, with pride, is struggling in her breast,
As memory stern her Poet's past recalls;
I¥en while he crowned her with undying flowers,
Her deeds heroic bade his lyre record,
Till light immortal glorified her bowers,
She loved the honour but forgot the Bard!
The past is past, august and regal dame—
Oblivion's veil o'er painful memories draw;
Dearly familiar is each matchless lay;
Hearts vibrate to them in th' Imperial dome,
Whilst round cot hearths congenial pulses play.
All bosoms share the universal pride
With which this sacred day is set apart;
Whilst gratitude lets loose the gushing tide
Of feeling, deep in peer and peasant's heart.
Lovers of song to-day from sister lands
Meet on the shores by Burns immortalised;
By Caledon is grasped the regal hands,
Whose pressure speaks how well they sympathised.
Fair Albion, with her brow 'neath helmet's shade,
Imperial trident, and her mystic shield,
With azure mantle o'er her shoulders laid,
Comes smiling, honour to the Bard to yield.
And Erin, robed in undulating green,
The dew-fresh shamrock glistening round her head,
With golden harp, appears upon the scene
To weave her garlands o'er the illustrious dead:
Whilst Caledonia bends her high-plumed crest,
To hide the tear that o'er her flushed cheek falls.
Remorse, with pride, is struggling in her breast,
As memory stern her Poet's past recalls;
I¥en while he crowned her with undying flowers,
Her deeds heroic bade his lyre record,
Till light immortal glorified her bowers,
She loved the honour but forgot the Bard!
The past is past, august and regal dame—
Oblivion's veil o'er painful memories draw;
