The tempests howl round it, but little he’ll heed them,—
Freely he thinks, and as freely he speaks.
The bird in its motion,
The wave in its ocean,
Scarcely can rival his liberty’s voice;
Yet he obeys,
With a willing devotion
Laws of his making and kings of his choice.
Land of the forest, the fell, and the fountain,—
Blest with the wealth of the field and the flood,—