O Thou whose inextinguishable eye
Now sleeps beneath the ocean stream,
Whether the star of morn shall call thee forth
To pour thy rich and fiery beam
Through the wide arch of an unclouded sky;
Or whether the rude North
Shall o’er thy head his showery mantle cast,
Making the dank earth shiver at his blast;
Welcome alike to me! the genial day
That gave my fair Eliza birth