Here is no starveling—Heaven-forsaken—
Shrinking aside where the Nations throng;
Proud as the proudest moves she among them—
Worthy is she of a noble song!
Sing me the might of her giant mountains,
Baring their brows in the dazzling blue;
Changeless alone, where all else changes,
Emblems of all that is grand and true:
Free as the eagles around them soaring;
Fair as they rose from their Maker's hand;