Why Should The Enthusiast, Journeying Through This Isle Repine As If His Hour Were Come Too Late? Not Unprotected In Her Mouldering State, Antiquity Salutes Him With A Smile, 'Mid Fruitful Fields That Ring With Jocund Toil, And Pleasure-Grounds Where Taste, Refined Co-Mate Of Truth And Beauty, Strives To Imitate, Far As She May, Primeval Nature'S Style. Fair Land! By Time'S Parental Love Made Free, By Social Order'S Watchful Arms Embraced; With Unexampled Union Meet In Thee, For Eye And Mind, The Present And The Past; With Golden Prospect For Futurity, If That Be Reverenced Which Ought To Last.