Aglowing and fair like a houri on high,

Full of grace and pure like the Morn that peeps

When in the sky the clouds are tinted blue,

Of th' Indian land, a goddess sleeps.



The light foam of the son'rous sea

Doth kiss her feet with loving desire;

The cultured West adores her smile

And the frosty Pole her flow'red attire.



With tenderness, stammering, my Muse

To her 'midst undines and naiads does sing;

I offer her my fortune and bliss:

Oh, artists! her brow chaste ring

With myrtle green and roses red

And lilies, and extol the Philippines!