| No alien's aid the noble parent sought |
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| In vain the youth his utmost art essay'd |
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| When thy firm sons undaunted heard th' alarms |
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| The Ready boat the tardy youth upbraids |
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| Obedient ever to thy lov'd command |
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| But now the greenest moss she culls with care |
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| O! frail, uncertain state, where shall we find |
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| Thus was the youth by turns a captive led |
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| Once,as she stray'd, by gentle labour led |
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| Sung by a Choir of Boys Marching Round the Room |
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