The Bride from the North
Sullivan, Arthur
The shadows take their flight,
The violet blooms,
Gentle and pure and bright,
A Fairy comes.
Fresh as the day, when dew
Impearls her car,
Waking a music new,
To echo England through
While bridal flow'rs we strew,
Hail! Northern star.
Our gallant mariners tell
Of lands they know,
Where hue of Indian shell
Tinges the snow.
Where nights, than our June days
More brilliant are-
And her fair face displays
To Britain's loyal gaze,
That blush, those meteor rays.
Bright Northern Star!
Blessings on that fair face!
Safe on the shore
Of her home-dwelling place,
Stranger no more.
Love from her household shrine,
Keep sorrow far.
May, for her, hawthorn twine,
June, bring sweet eglantine,
Autumn the golden vine,
Dear Northern Star!