With taste so true, and genius fine,

The blythsome Minsterels of langsyne,

Sung sweetly ’tween the Tweed and Tyne,

Of war and love;

Sounding their melody divine,

Thro’ ev’ry grove.

Northumbria’s waters, woods, and plains,

Her hills and dales, her nymphs and swains,

Her rural sports, in sweetest strains,

The Poets sung;