When our prince, the mighty monarch,
When our prince, of high-set splendour,
To the hunt, with many a horseman,
Marches o'er Kariji's moorland,
Kneeling low, the deer adore him,
Kneeling low, the quails surround him.
We, too, kneel like deer before him,
We, too, kneel like quails around him,
Giving true and trembling service;
And our eyes and hearts, uplifted,
Seem to rest on heav'n's own radiance,
Ever piercing new perfections
In our prince, the mighty monarch!