Thomas Campbell

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
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Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.

For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.

For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.

Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.

Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.

Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.