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Beyond the dread Atlantic deep,

One gleam of comfort shines for me; There shall these bones untroubled sleep,

And press the earth of Liberty. Wide, wide, that waste of waters rolls, And sadly smiles that distant land, Yet there I hail congenial Souls,

And Freemen give the Brother's hand. COLUMBIA hear the Exile's prayer!

To him thy fostering love impart, So shall he watch with patriot care, So guard thee with a filial heart.

Yet O! forgive, with anguish fraught, If sometimes start th' unbidden tear, As tyrant Memory wakes the thought,

Still, still, I am a stranger here."

Thou vanquish'd land, once proud and free,

Where first this fleeting breath I
drew,

This heart must ever beat for thee,
In absence near-in misery true!

BRAVURA SONG. Written by Mr. CROSS of the Royal Circus, and sung in the Burletta Spectacle of John Bull and Bonaparte.

THE British Lion's rous'd! his growl,

Appals the sons of plunder, Biting the dust, with hideous howl, Their knells we'll knoll in thunder! With the dangers that threaten our efforts shall tally,

Temerity's legions indignant we'll scourge,

And while round the standard imperial we rally!

Cry, God for us, for England, and
King George.

A Tyrant leads the impious horde,
The slaves! defeat's decreed 'em,

A King belov'd, a God ador'd!
We serve! our cause is freedom!

Inflated with rage, from their ports let them sally,

Temerity's legions indignant we'll

scourge,

And while round the standard imperial we rally,

Cry, God for us, for England, and
King George.

GARLAND FOR BONAPARTE. TO rear the Tree of Liberty

In vain have Frenchmen tried, Unfit, ungenial, was the soil,

Th' exotic droop'd and died.

A Laurel next they thought upon,
And planted in its stead,
And steep'd in Blood, a Crown they

made

For Bonaparte's head.

To those who would this plant assail, He promises no quarter;

But we may laugh his threat to scorn, His Laurels die in water.

Grieve not, thou Corse, should fortune frown,

Or leave thee in the lurch; Thy laurels here may be supply'd

By wholesome British Birch. This plant is fraught with magic pow'r On children spoilt and naughty; So we a rod in pickle keep

For thee, oh! BONAPARTE.

And tho' the Tree of Freedom die,
Thy Laurels lose their hue,
We have a Gard'ner to supply
Enough of Rue for you.

Morning Post.

BRITONS STRIKE HOME. HARK! the devoted foe's afloat! Hark! 'twas the cannon's brazen throat, And the shrill clarion's piercing note, That struck mine ear!

In

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Whilst ev'ry Briton's song shall be,

"O give us Death--or Victory!" Long had this favour'd Isle enjoy’d

True comforts, past expressing, When France her hellish arts employ'd To rob us of each blessing:

These from our hearths by force to tear (Which long we've learn'd to cherish)

Our frantic foes shall vainly dare;

We'll keep 'em, or we'll perish― And ev'ry day our song shall be,

O give us Death-or Victory!" Let France in savage accents sing

Her bloody Revolution;

We prize our Country, love our King, Adore our Constitution:

For these we'll every danger face,

And quit our rustic labours; Our ploughs to firelocks shall give place,

Our scythes be chang'd to sabres. And clad in arms, our song shall be,

"O give us Death-or Victory!" Soon shall the proud Invaders learn,

When bent on Blood and Plunder, That British bosoms nobly burn,

To brave their cannon's thunder: Low lie those heads, whose wily arts

Have plann'd the World's undoing! Our 'vengeful blades shall reach those

hearts

Which seek our Country's ruin; And night and morn our song shall be, "O give us Death—or Victory!" When, with French blood our fields manur'd,

The glorious struggle's ended, We'll sing the dangers we've endur'd,

The blessings we've defended : O'er the full bowl our feats we'll tell,

Each gallant deed reciting;
And weep o'er those who nobly fell,

Their country's battle fighting-
And ever thence our song shall be,

""Tis Valour leads to Victory."

Anti-Jacabin.

[graphic]

VOL. I.

THE

ANTI-GALLICAN.

NUMBER V.

ODE TO MY COUNTRY,
BRITONS! hands and hearts prepare;
The angry tempest threatens nigh,
Deep-toned thunders roll in air,

Lightnings thwart the livid sky;

Thron'd upon the winged storm,
Fell DESOLATION rears her ghastly form,
Waves her black signal to her hell-born brood,
And lures them thus with promis'd blood:

Drive, my sons, the storm amain!
Lo, the hated, envied land,

Where Piety and Order reign,

And Freedom dares maintain her stand.

Have you not sworn, by night and hell,

These from the earth for ever to expell?

Rush on, resistless, to your destin'd prey,

Death and rapine point the way."

Britons! stand firm! with stout and dauntless heart
Meet unappall'd the threatening Boaster's rage;
Yours is the great, the unconquerable part

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For your lov'd hearths and altars to engage,
And sacred Liberty, more dear than life-
Yours be the triumph in the glorious strife,
Shall theft and murder braver deeds excite
Than honest scorn of shame and heavenly love of right?

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Turn the bright historic page!
Still in Glory's tented field
Albion's arms for many an age

Have taught proud Gallia's bands to yield.

Are not WE the sons of those

Whose steel-clad sires pursued the insulting foes
E'en to the centre of their wide domain,
And bow'd them to a Briton's reign?*

Kings in modest triumph led,

Graced the SABLE VICTOR's arms; †
His conquering lance, the battle's dread ;-
His courtesy the conquer'd charms.

The lion heart soft pity knows,

To raise with soothing cares his prostrate foes;
The vanquish'd head true valour ne'er opprest,

Nor shunn'd to succour the distrest.

Spirit of great ELIZABETH! inspire

High thoughts, high deeds, worthy our ancient fame :
Breathe through our ardent ranks the patriot fire

Kindled at Freedom's ever hallow'd flame;

Baffled and scorn'd, the Iberian tyrant found,
Though half a world his iron sceptre bound,
The gallant Amazon could sweep away,

Arm'd with her people's love, the "Invincible" array.||

The BOLD USUR PER§ firmly held

The sword, by splendid treasons gain'd;

And Gallia's fiery genius quell'd,

And Spain's presumptuous claims restrain'd:

When lust of sway by flattery fed,

To vent'rous deeds the youthful Monarch** led,
In the full flow of victory's swelling tide

Britain check'd his power and pride,

To the great Batavian's name *+*
Ceaseless hymns of triumph raise!
Scourge of tyrants! let his fame

Live in songs of grateful praise.

Thy turrets, Blenheim, glittering to the sun,
Tell of bright fields*$* from warlike Gallia won;
Tell how the mighty Monarch mourn'd in vain
His impious wish the world to chain,

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And ye fam'd Heroes, late retir'd to heaven,
Whose setting glories still the skies illume,
Bend from the blissful seats to virtue given

Avert your long-defended country's doom.
Earth from her utmost bounds shall wondering tell
How victory's meed ye gain'd, or conquering fell;
Britain's dread thunders bore from pole to pole,
Wherever man is found, or refluent oceans roll,

Names embalm'd in honour's shrine,
Sacred to immortal praise,
Patterns of glory, born to shine

In breathing arts or pictur'd lays:
See WOLFE, by yielding numbers prest,
Expiring smile, and sink on Victory's breast!
See Minden's plains and Biscay's § billowy bay
Deeds of deathless fame display.

O! tread with awe the sacred gloom **
Patriot Virtue's last retreat;

Where Glory, on the trophied tomb

Joys their merit to repeat;

r-hand.

There CHATHAM lies, whose master-]

Guided, through seven bright years, the mighty band
That round his urn, where grateful memory weeps,
Each in his hallow'd marble sleeps.

Her brand accurs'd when civil discord hurl'd, *+*
Britain alone th' united world withstood,

Rodney his fortune-favour'd sails unfurl'd,

And led three nation's chiefs to Thames's flood.
Firm on his rock the Veteran Hero*§* stands ;-
Beneath his feet unheeded thunders roar;

Smiling in scorn he sees the glittering bands
Fly with repulse and shame old Calpe's hopeless shore.

Heirs or partners of their toils,
Matchless heroes* still we own;
Crown'd with honourable spoils

From the leagued nations won.

On their high prows they proudly stand
The god-like guardians of their native land;
Lords of the mighty deep triumphant ride,
Wealth and victory at their side.

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