That earth hath seen, or fancy could devise,
Thine altar, sacred Liberty, should stand,
Built by no mercenary, vulgar hand,
With fragrant turf, and flowers as wild and fair
As ever dressed a bank, or scented summer air.
Duly, as ever on the mountain’s height
The peep of morning shed a dawning light;
Again, when evening in her sober vest
Drew the gray curtain of the fading west;
My soul should yield thee willing thanks and praise