As the monarch that grows in the forest, and rears
Its brow ever green to the firmament bright,
So, stedfast and sturdy, thy proud form appears,
Of patriots the hope, and thy country's delight.

Through thy heart, firm and true as the oak trees that stand
In the soil of Old England--in which thou hast grown,
There runs the same life which they draw from the land,
And the heart of thy country 's the life of thine own.

With the seal of Nobility set by thy Sire,
Thou tread'st in his steps as thou bearest his name;
And the glow that he added to Albion's fire
Reflects through the Past and enhances thy fame.

Where Freedom is free'st, thou takest thy stand:
Where Tyranny threatens, thy misson is told;
And thy tongue, which we hail as the Voice of the Land,
Speaks the wish of a nation heroic and bold.

And bright will the name be of England, as long
As safe in thy keeping her honour remains--
'Twill stand 'mongst the noblest in story and song,
And be worthy the purest and loftiest strains.