A LL hail, thou noble land, Our Fathers' native soil! O, stretch thy mighty hand, Gigantic grown by toil, O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore! The world o'er! The Genius of our clime From his pine-embattled steep While the Tritons of the deep With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim. O'er the main our naval line Though ages long have past Since our Fathers left their home, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins! That blood of honest fame While the language free and bold How the vault of Heaven rung Round our coast; While the manners, while the arts, That mould a nation's soul, Our joint communion breaking with the Sun: The voice of blood shall reach, More audible than speech, "We are One." Washington Allston. |