O, fair as are the ruddy morns that rise
O’er her wild hills, and flush her stormy skies!120
How thy sons, thy faiths upholding,
Victors, firm in peace or strife,
Toil, thy gifts of Truth unfolding,
Weave the web of human life!
Here in these shades, with straining sight125
Through many a fretful day and weary night
Bent o’er the baffling page,
How have they won the wealth of seer and sage