James Thomson (1)

The stately-sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with read more

The stately-sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle,
Protective of his young.

Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he read more

Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations.

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs.

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs.

Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best gift,
To that of life and an immortal soul!

Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best gift,
To that of life and an immortal soul!

When autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide read more

When autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around,
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift,
The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once,
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire.