A song, a song for the good old Flail, And the brawny arms that wield it, Hearty and hale, in our yeoman mail, Like intrepid knights we'll shield it. We are old nature's peers, Right royal cavaliers! Knights of the Plough! for no Golden Fleece we sail, We're Princes in our own right--our sceptre is the Flail.
A song, a song for the golden grain, As it wooes the flail's embraces, In wavy sheaves like a golden main, With its bright spray in our faces.
Mirth hastens at our call, Jovial hearts have we all! Knights of the Plough! for no Golden Fleece we sail, We're Princes in our own right--our sceptre is the Flail.
A song, a song for the good old Flail, That our fathers used before us; A song for the Flail, and the faces hale Of the queenly dames that bore us! We are old nature's peers, Right royal cavaliers! Knights of the Plough! for no Golden Fleece we sail, We're Princes in our own right--our sceptre is the Flail.
Fair was the maid, and lovely as the morn From starry Night and rosy Twilight born, Within whose mind a rivulet of song Rehearsed the strains that from her lips ere long Welled free and sparkling, as the vocal woods Repeat the day-spring's sweetest interludes. Her gentle eyes' serenest depths of blue Shrined love and truth, and all their retinue; The health and beauty of her youthful face Made it the Harem of each maiden grace; And such perfection blended with her air, She seemed some stately Goddess moving there: Beholding her, you thought she might have been The long-lost, flower-loving Proserpine:
"Oh, dreamy autumn days! I seek your faded ways, As one who calmly strays Through visions of the past; I walk the golden hours, And where I gathered flowers The stricken leaves in showers Are hurled upon the blast."
Thus mused the lonely maid, As through the autumn glade, With pensive heart, she strayed, Regretting Love's delay; In vain the traitor flies! To pleading lips and eyes, Sweet looks, and tender sighs, He falls an easy prey.
"Oh, dreamy autumn days! I tread your bridal ways, As one who homeward strays, Through realms divinely fair; I walk Love's radiant hours, Fragrant with passion flowers, And blessings fall like dowers Down the elysian air."
Thus mused the maiden now, With sunny heart and brow, For Love had turned his prow