Yet should we mourn thee in thy blest abode,
But for that thought—“It is the will of God!”
Who shall arraign th’ Eternal’s dark decree
If not one murmur then escaped from thee?
Oh! still, though vanishing without a trace,
Thou hast not left one scion of thy race,
Still may thy memory bloom our vales among,
Hallow’d by freedom and enshrined in song!
Still may thy pure, majestic spirit dwell
Bright on the isles which loved thy name so well,