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And if your bosoms own this kindly debt Of old remembrance, how shall mine forget? O how forget! --how oft I hither came In anxious hope, how oft returned with fame: How oft around your circle this weak hand Has waved immortal Shakespeare's magic wand Till the full burst of inspiration came And I have felt and you have fanned the flame By mem'ry treasured, while her reign endures These hours must [live--&?] all their charms are yours O favoured land! renown'd for arts and arms For manly talent, and for female charms Could this full bosom prompt the sinking line What fervent benedictions now were thine! But my last part is played--my knell is rung When e'en your praise falls faultering pon my tongue And all that you can hear, or I can tell To-- friends and patrons, hail, and Fare, you well