Ah! had we, Sir, the power of art
To grant the wishes of our heart,
Your long and glorious reign should be
One entire piece of harmony.
No day should an ill aspect wear,
But, smooth as seas when calms appear.
All hearts should smile as at that hour
When you from exile blest our shore,
And the ill omens o'er us placed
Should vanish with the time that's past.
Then would we conclude that our Isle, which of old
Was the Fortunate called, had her name but foretold
By some learned bard, who in times past foreknew
How in ages to come she'ld be happy in you.