But what though Fame her charms deny
While Fancy yields such precious store !
What, though thy past be starless sky !
Thy future's sun will glow the more.
Here, standing 'mid thy girding wood,
I see yon city's limits bound —
As Rome of old her Tiber's flood —
Those mirror'd bays now circling round.
And, gazing landward from the sea.
The wild is chang'd, the desert gone,
And vine-clad hill and fruitful lea
Are vocal with the rustic song.
Again I turn to greet the wave,
And ships unnumber'd stand array'd
And men are there as strong and brave
As ever flush'd in war or trade.
And, fairest sight ! o'er land and main
Waves Freedom's banner uncontroll'd,
And Freedom, chief of heav'nly train.
E'er bounteous, squanders bliss untold.