Bear praises on each breeze that blows,
Sweet as the breath of morning rose
That blossoms in the woodland shades!
Then crown, O, Love, these later days
With mystic charms of wondrous bliss,
That lived when thou wert wreathed with bays,
And nations hungered for thy kiss!
No more thy temples tower above,
But lives and bosoms hold thee dear;
Then come with all thy worth of cheer