From those eternal regions bright

From those eternal regions bright, Where Suns that never set in night, Diffuse the golden day; Where spring, unfading, pours around, O'er all the dew impearled ground, Her thousand colours gay, Her thousand colours gay.

The Messenger of Heaven's high King, I come, and happy tidings bring, To cheer this drooping Isle; Behold! her cruel foes are fled, Behold! fair freedom lifts the head, And all her children smile, And all her children smile.

The dawn that now unveils her skies, Sees England's future glory rise, A better age is born; Then let each voice of sprightly strain Around, from warbling hill and plain, Hail this triumphant morn, Hail this triumphant morn.