On the thrones of foam right joyous ride
’Mid the sullen dash of the angry tide.
I hear ye tell of music’s power,
The rapture of a sigh,
When beauty in her wizard bower
Unveils her languid eye.
Of those who die in rugged fight
And battling for their country’s right
With the shivered brand in the “red right hand,”
And the plaudits of a rescued land.