As a new moon to Britain—not a son;
But half a loaf is better far than none—
And so we welcomed thee; but oh! I ween,
(Not thee—I leave thy nurses to wean thee,)
Towards the next our expectations lean
Upon Hope's anchor, wishing for a "He;"
Who shall sometime rule Britons and the sea;
And till he rules our land and ocean green,
The princedom of its Wales his own will be,
That he may learn the trick of sovranty!