says of it: "This spirited lyric is alike creditable to the talents,
patriotism, and independence of its author. Its loyalty is an
intelligent attainment, free from blind prejudice and crouching
adulation."]

What land more beautiful than ours?
What other land more blest?
The South with all its wealth of flowers?
The prairies of the West?

Oh no! there's not a fairer land
Beneath yon azure dome--
Where Peace holds Plenty by the hand,
And Freedom finds a home.

The slave who but her name hath heard,
Repeats it day and night,
And envies every little bird
That takes its northward flight.

As to the Polar star they turn
Who brave a pathless sea:
So the oppressed in secret yearn,
Dear native land, for thee!

How many loving memories throng
Round Britain's stormy coast!
Renowned in story and in song,
Her glory is our boast.