"Where Sydney Cove her lucid bosom swells, Courts her young navies, and the storm repels; High on a rock amid the troubled air Hᴏᴘᴇ stood sublime, and waved her golden hair; Calmed with her rosy smile the tossing deep, And with sweet accents charmed the winds to sleep; To each wild plain she stretched her snowy hand, High-waving wood, and sea-encircled strand. ‘Hear me,’ she cried, ‘ye rising realms! record Time’s opening scenes, and Truth’s unerring word. There shall broad streets their stately walls extend, The circus widen, and the crescent bend; There, rayed from cities o’er the cultured land, Shall bright canals, and solid roads expand. There the proud arch, colossus-like, bestride Yon glittering streams, and bound the chasing tide; Embellished villas crown the landscape-scene, Farms wave with gold, and orchards blush between. There shall tall spires, and dome-capped towers ascend, And piers and quays their massy structures blend; While with each breeze approaching vessels glide, And northern treasures dance on every tide!’ Then ceased the nymph—tumultuous echoes roar, And Joy’s loud voice was heard from shore to shore— Her graceful steps descending pressed the plain, And Peace, and Art, and Labour, joined her train."