Classic Poem

Hail , England, dear England, true Queen of the West,
With thy fair swelling bosom and ever-green vest,
How nobly thou sitt'st in thine own steady light,
On the left of thee Freedom, and Truth on the right,
While the clouds, at thy smile, break apart, and turn bright!
The Muses, full voiced, half encircle the seat,
And Ocean comes kissing thy princely white feet.
All hail! all hail!
All hail to the beauty, immortal and free,
The only true goddess that rose from the sea.

Warm-hearted, high-thoughted, what union is thine
Of gentle affections and genius divine!
Thy sons are true men, fit to battle with care;
Thy daughters true women, home-loving and fair,
With figures unequalled, and blushes as rare:
E'en the ground takes a virtue, that's trodden by thee,
And the slave, that but touches it, starts, and is free
All hail! all hail!
All hail, Queen of Queens, there's no monarch beside,
But in ruling as thou dost, would double his pride.