Golden bells,—bedight o'er towers—
Amidst the betrothing melody,
The touch of stained glass—
Beams the rosary beads
Binding me with a man held high;
Now to be crowned his wife.
     "My lord, lend me thy right hand,
      As thy loyal servant,—
       I vow to pledge our country."

The Moonlight Song,— let our haunches be mere pitches—
Of forests rocked by branches
Ah, my fatal reverie—
Savor this antique scenery,
With classic gothic frames,
And worn laces,—Peaking the figures'desires
Cradle me,—
And thou shalt drink my glass,—
To offer a sip;-- so to paint moist on windows.

Sunrise, leap me to this town!—
How gracious men and children,
I shalt dress all thee;-—Make a stronghold that prospers the needy;
Lest the void of promised land—
Wither the faith of mankind.

With the King's side,
Reformation sets the nation to affluence;
The bonfire relives the glorious centuries—
Never scorn, swords unfold!