Tune—"Young Love lived once."
Within a fine ould ancient pile
(Where long may splendour
And luck attend her!)
The Royal Hope of Britain's isle
Has shed her eighteenth summer's smile!
No winter mornin'
Was at her bornin',
But with the spring she did come forth,
A flow'r of Beauty, without guile,
Perfumin' sweet the neighb'rin' earth!
We've seen the blossom 'pon the stem
From early childhood—
Both in the wild-wood
And in the halls where many a gem
Did sparkle from the diadem,
But always bloomin',
On the rich cradle of her birth;
Her eyes beam'd softly—while from them
All others gather'd love and mirth!
Dear offspring of a royal race,
In this dominion
(It's my opinion)
There's not a soul that sees your face,
But prays for it sweet Heaven's grace.
May every birth-day
Be found a mirth-day,—
No clouds or tears e'er frown or weep,
But Pleasure's smile where'er you pace
Bless you for ever 'wake or 'sleep!