Fair Virgin of the world, America!
Thou who so innocent to heaven display’st
Thy bosom stored with plenty’s rich array,
And brow of gentle youth! Thou, who so graced
The tenderest and most lovely of the zones
Of mother Earth to shine, shouldst be of fate
The sweet delight and favour’d love it owns,
That but pursues thee with relentless hate,
Hear me! If ever was a time mine eyes,
When scanning thy eventful history,