O
NG through all thy immemorial years!
Rise,
Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
The nations that in fettered darkness weep Crave thee to lead them where great mornings break . . . .
Mother,
O Mother, wherefore dost thou sleep?
Arise and answer for thy children's sake!
Thy Future calls thee with a manifold sound To crescent honours, splendours, victories vast;
Waken,
O slumbering Mother and be crowned,
Who once wert empress of the sovereign Past.
