There is a land, of every land the pride,

Beloved by Heaven o’er all the world beside;

Where brighter suns dispense serener light,

And milder moons emparadise the night:

A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,

Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth:

The wandering mariner whose eye explores

The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,

Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,

Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.

For in this land of Heaven’s peculiar grace,

The heritage of Nature’s noblest race,

There is a spot of earth supremely blest—

A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest:

Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,

Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;

In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,

An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;

Around her knees domestic duties meet,

And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.

“Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?”

Art thou a man?—a patriot?—look around;

Oh, thou shalt find, howe’er thy footsteps roam,

That land thy Country, and that spot thy Home.