As ourselves your empires fall, And every kingdom hath a grave.

Like the violet, which alone Prospers in some happy shade, My Castara lives unknown To no looser eye betrayed.

I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will.

Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne Whereon he sits! whose deep foundations lie In veneration and the people's love.