America to Great Britain

All 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:For thou with magic mightCanst reach to where the lightOf Phœbus travels brightThe world o'er!

The Genius of our clime,From his pine-embattled steep,Shall hail the guest sublime;While the Tritons of the deepWith their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim.Then let the world combine—O'er the main our Naval LineLike the milky way shall shineBright in fame!

Though ages long have pastSince our Fathers left their home,Their pilot in the blast,O'er untravell'd seas to roam,Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!And shall we not proclaimThat blood of honest fameWhich no tyranny can tameBy its chains?

While the language free and boldWhich the Bard of Avon sung,In which our Milton toldHow the vault of Heaven rungWhen Satan, blasted, fell with his host;While this, with rev'rence meet,Ten thousand echoes greet,From rock to rock repeatRound our coast;

While the manners, while the arts,That mould a nation's soul,Still cling around our hearts—Between let ocean roll,Our joint communion breaking with the Sun:Yet still from either beachThe voice of blood shall reach,More audible than speech,'We are One.'