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;