Sweet power of Song! That canst impart,
To lowland swain or mountaineers,
A gladness thrilling trough the heart,
A joy so tender and so dear:
Sweet Power! That on a foreign strand
Canst the rough soldier's bosom move,
With feelings of his native land,
As gentle as infant's love.

Sweet Power! That makes youthful heads
With thistle, leek, or shamrock crown'd,
Nod proudly as the carol sheds
Its spirit through the social round.
Sweet Power! That cheer's the daily toil
Of cottage maid, or beldame poor,
The ploughman on the furrow'd soil,
Or herdboy on the lonely moor.

Or he, by bards the shepherd hight,
Who mourns his maiden's broken tye,
'Till the sweet plaint, in woe's despite,
Hath made a bliss of agony.
Sweet power of Song! Thanks flow to thee
From every kind and gentle breast!
Let Erin's Cambria's minstrels be
With Burn's tuneful spirit blest!