Air.--Contralto

Prince, in these Collegiate bowers, Where Science, leagued with holier truth, Guards the sacred heart of youth, Solemn monitors are ours. These reverend aisles, these hallowed towers, Raised by many a hand august, Are haunted by majestic Powers, The memories of the Wise and Just, Who, faithful to a pious trust, Here, in the Founder’s spirit sought To mould and stamp the ore of thought In that bold form and impress high That best betoken patriot loyalty. Not in vain those Sages taught.-- True disciples, good as great, Have pondered here their country’s weal, Weighed the Future by the Past, Learned how social frames may last, And how a Land may rule its fate By constancy inviolate, Though worlds to their foundations reel, The sport of factious Hate or godless Zeal.