The GOD OF ARMIES can alone secure The Warrior's fortune, and make vengeance sure; Blind to the future, men too rashly dare The proud contempt with which they danger view, Natives of Britain's warlike Isle arise; Loud let the shout thro' heaven's wide concave ring "OUR GOD! OUR GOD! OUR COUNTRY! AND OUR KING !" Morning Post. G. BUTTLER. THE DEVOTED AND VICTORIOUS BRITISH SOLDIER. BY MR. COURTENAY, M. P. TO battle let despots compel the poor slave, His country for him has no charms, But the voice of fair Freedom is heard by the brave, Our Country, and King, may triumphantly rest For the spirit of Liberty glows in each breast, And her sword shall ne'er drop froin our hands. In In the bright race of glory Britannia still runs, Or vie with the charms of her fair. How glorious to fall in youth's early bloom, The voice of loud fame will be heard in each tomb, Raise the song to the heroes of Freedom's proud isle, How the soldier's lov'd chief, by the blood-streaming Nile, Then, Britons, strike home-to the French on our shore, By MotRA array'd, on their vain legions pour, While proudly the banners of victory wave, The trophies of glory shine over his grave, DEFIANCE TO THE CORSICAN. TO subdue the Armadas of FRANCE and of SPAIN, Though by slaughter or threats, from.the ELBE to the Po, Not content with the blood, which in EUROPE he shed, When defeated, he fled, and his fleet was our prey ; Then let NELSON, and SIDNEY new triumphs prepare, And the CORSICAN TYRANT may come, if he dare! Yet Yet against us, he vaunts, his base myriads to bring, Impious wretches! in terror, who kiss the vile rod- BUT We fight for our Laws, for our King, and our GOD! And the CORSICAN TYRANT may come, if he dare! From their coasts, by the winds, should our navy be tossed, Let the CORSICAN TYRANT then come, if he dare! Of our wives, and our daughters, protecting the charms; TO BLASPHEMERS AND SLAVES, BRITONS never will yield, OUR INVINCIBLE BANNER then wave high in air, And the CORSICAN TYRANT may come, if he dare! As a COMET descends, that has blazed from afar While he scatters around desolation, and war: So this merciless Despot, who makes the earth groan, Let her wake from her trance, shall be hurled from his throne. VOL. I. PATRIOTIC SONG. TUNE, The Prince and Old England for ever. THE day, Fellow Soldiers, is nearly at hand, And the fate of your happy, your dear native land, In defence of your ISLE, let each sinew be strung, That isle, the just pride of an Englishman's tongue, The envy and praise of the world. Then sound, sound the trumpet, your standards advance, Our ranks shall dismay the proud legions of France, The eyes of all Europe are fix'd upon you, The base violation of virtue and truth, And wreak on its authors the blood of our youth, Cemented by Nature's, Humanity's call, Avaunt each political feud, Let private opinion, let personal gall, Thus greatly united, the insolent foe Shall tumble if Britons but nod, Untarnish'd that Fame, which our ancestors bought, Inspir'd by the shades of the heroes that fought To latest posterity shall it descend; Oh Gods!-what a theme for the rest of his life, Who, loaded with honours, returns to his wife, Fill, fill to the brim, hark the wide welkin rings, Here's the kindest of Fathers, the mildest of Kings, May happy he reign, till the sand of his glass Then find in the pray'rs of his subjects a pass To Honour, to Glory, and Peace. Then Then sound, sound the trumpet, your standards advance, Loud, loud let the drum beat to honour; Our ranks shall dismay the proud legions of France, SONG, BY EDWARD WILMOT, ESQ. Tune-"Hearts of Oak." COME cheer up my lads, 'tis our Country that calls, Our stake is our liberty, laws, and our lives, And ourselves are the shield of our children and wives. Steady, boys, steady! Our Country to save, and repel the proud foe. They come to invade with the sword and the brand, But each son of the isles a sure bulwark shall prove In defence of the call to the field we will go, Of times far remote should their memory fail, Mow'd the ranks of the French like the grass of the field! Be it ours then to teach these all-insolent slaves, How the lads of the isles, and the sons of the waves, United shall guard hallow'd Liberty's coast From tyranny's yoke and republican boast! From the yoke and the boast we our freedom will show, Be theirs the abhorr'd atheistical sword, And murder, rape, rapine, or plunder the word; But ours be the boast, that no Briton but draws In defence of the Faith, and the King, and the Laws! And will always be ready, &c. 1 THE |