Nature and man should join with one accord
To celebrate this purer second birth
Of royalty — blue skies and Attic mirth,
And boughs of myrtle round the guardian sword;
A double strength of purple on the hills,
And a wine-fount in mid-Athens! that each mouth
May quaff the young king's health, and slake the drouth
Of that long-drawn Bavarian term of ills;
And you, Ionian Isles! when Adria's wave
Comes foaming in before the Danish prows,
Remember England, ruling but to save,
And how she listen'd to your earnest vows;
Remember England in that night's carouse,
For what her mighty hand, unfolding, gave.