And thou hast prouder glories too,
Than nature ever gave,
Peace sheds o er thee, her genial dew,
And Freedom s pinions wave,
Fair science flings her pearls around,
Religion lifts her dome,
These, these endear thee, to my heart,
My own, loved native home!
And " heaven s best gift to man " is thine,
God bless thy rosy girls!
Like sylvan flowers, they sweetly shine,
Their hearts are pure as pearls!
And grace and goodness circle them,
Where er their footsteps roam,
How can I then, whilst loving them,
Not love my native home!
Land of the South! imperial land!
Then here s a health to thee,
Long as thy mountain barriers stand,
May st thou be blessed and free!
May dark dissension s banner ne er
Wave o er thy fertile loam,
But should it come, there s one will die,
To save his native home!
THE MOCKING BIRD
From the vale, what music ringing, Fills the bosom of the night; On the sense, entranced, flinging Spells of witchery and delight!
