Her sacred spirit soars o’er gilded spires,
And breathes into creative fires a force;
In well-tuned chants and chords of countless choirs
Lives ever her immortal shadowed source.
From age to age the roll of poets grows;
And yet, a lonely few are laurel-crowned,
In whose sweet words her inspiration shows,
Revealing insights deep and thoughts profound.
O shall Cecelia, or shall Goddess Muse
Reach then to me across eternal skies?
Is heaven’s quick’ning fire but a ruse,
Abiding rather here before mine eyes?
Nearer than I dream’d is She whose fame
All poets sing, whose glory all proclaim:
LONG LIVE FAIR ORIANA!
