Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race
Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place!
I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away,
And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay.
But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms,
So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.
THE MONARCHY OF BRITAIN. {87c}
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time,
Ere spoilers had breath'd the free air of your clime!
All that its eagles beheld in their flight
Was yours from the deep to each storm-mantled height!
Though from your race that proud birthright be torn,
Unquench'd is the spirit for monarchy born.
Darkly though clouds may hang o'er us awhile,
The crown shall not pass from the Beautiful Isle! {88}
Ages may roll ere your children regain
The land for which heroes have perish'd in vain.
Yet in the sound of your names shall be pow'r,
Around her still gath'ring, till glory's full hour.
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