Such joys await you, in our sorrows’ stead;
Thither our charts have almost led;
Nor in that land shall worth, truth, courage, ask for alms.
X.
VALETE ET SALVETE.
O, trained beneath the Northern Star!
Worth, courage, honor, these indeed
Your sustenance and birthright are!
Now, from her sweet dominion freed,
Your Foster Mother bids you speed;
Her gracious hands the gates unbar,