  By J. Gibson, of Newcastle. Roll on thy way, thrice happy Tyne! Commerce and riches still are thine; Thy sons in every art shall shine, And make thee more majestic flow. The busy crowd that throngs thy sides, And on thy dusky bosom glides, With riches swell thy flowing tides, And bless the soil were thou dost flow. Thy valiant sons, in days of old, Led by their Chieftains, brave and bold, Fought not for wealth, or shining gold, But to defend thy happy shores. So e’en as they of old have bled, And oft embrac’d a gory bed, Thy modern sons, by Ridleys led, Shall rise to shield thy peace-crown’d shores. Nor art thou blest for this alone, That long thy sons in arms have shone; For every art to them is known, And science, form’d to grace the mind. Art, curb’d by War in former days, Has now burst forth in one bright blaze; And long shall his refulgent rays Shine bright, and darkness leave behind. The Muses too, with Freedom crown’d, Shall on thy happy shores be found, And fill the air with joyous sound Of—War and Darkness’ overthrow. Then roll thy way, thrice happy Tyne! Commerce and riches still are thine! Thy sons in arts and arms shall shine, And make thee still majestic flow. |
|
