With their deep voice, monotonous and slow,
    The cannon’s thunders roll along the sea;
    But ’tis in reverence, and to work no woe
    Those sounds here reach the shore and onward flee
    Past the oak woods that climb the grassy lea,
    To strike thy terraces, and palace fair
    With stately salutation offered thee
    Who of these potent realms the crown dost wear.
    So to the fabric of our future fame,
    Set in the green oak of our Empire’s might:
    Shall history’s voice, with measured praise, proclaim
    Thy life-long love of justice and of right,
    And the good era that thy reign hath been.
    To hail thee, reverently, Victoria, Queen.