Thy modern sons, by Ridleys led,
Shall rise to shield thy peace-crown’d shores.
Nor art thou blest for this alone,
That long thy sons in arms have shone;
For every art to them is known,
And science, form’d to grace the mind.
Art, curb’d by War in former days,
Has now burst forth in one bright blaze;
And long shall his refulgent rays
Shine bright, and darkness leave behind.