While our fond minds were young,
Oft thy bold numbers we poured in our mirth;
Now in our hall for aye
This shall be holiday,
Bard of all Nature, to honour thy birth.
Whether thou tremblest o’er
Green grave of Elsinore,
Stayest o’er the hill of Dunsinnan to hover,
Bosworth, or Shrewsbury,
Egypt or Philippi;