How oft has our fleet spread with terror their coast, And the Standard of England display'd. Then let, &c. Britannia now calls on her true hearts of oak, Who danger and death still disdain ; And dare vanquish'd Frenchmen her vengeance provoke, We've VINCENT and NELSON, the dread of our foes, Britain's heroes triumphantly sing; By conquest renown'd, for by merit they rose, The pride of their Country and King. Britannia still flourish! exultingly smile! Then let, &c. Fam'd for Valour, and Beauty's sweet charms; While Navies victorious encircle your Isle, Rest in safety, nor dread vain alarms. CHORUS. Then let the Ocean be their grave, Morning Post. SELECTED POETRY. THE DEVOTED AND VICTORIOUS BRITISH SOLDIER. The Music by Lient. WM. ABINGTON, of the First Regiment of Royal East TO battle let Despots compel the poor slave, 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 from our hands. The voice of bright fame will be heard from our tomb, Raise the song to the Heroes of Britain'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 our Monarch array'd, on their vain legions pour, The trophies of glory shine over his grave, THE FRENCH IN A FOG. Tune-" Hearts of Oak." AGAIN of their prowess our enemies boast, "Hearts of Oak," &c. They say they no longer our pride can endure, "Hearts of Oak," &c. It seems in a FOG these great heroes confide, "Hearts of Oak," &c. All their art, and their cunning, they know are in vain, Still a fog they would need to preserve them on shore. Perhaps they will tell us, we are not yet free, "Hearts of Oak," &c. Their protection and freedom we know would be such, Then cheer up, my lads! let us fly to the field; And when we have conquer'd, as Britons we know, A foe at our feet is no longer a foe. "Hearts of Oak," & THE ISLAND OF BRITAIN. Tune HEARTS OF OAK. My friends, ve bave heard, in the late British wars, We always are ready, steady boys, steady; For Made fast to a rock, of no danger afraid; Her Her CAPTAIN, God bless him! is lov'd by us all; The lot which great Providence seals as our fate. But the means in our hands we will ardently use; Heart of oak, Sc. The ship is staunch good, and her timbers are sound: Her hull, stores, and rigging, all malice defy; Then clear ship, If they board us, my boys! and each man to his gun; UNITE, and we'll soon make them run; And ages to come shall still have in view THE ISLAND OF BRITAIN, her Captain, and Crew HEARTS OF OAK; OR, THE BRITISH EMPIRE. NOW the French threaten loudly-those terrible foes, Let us fervently join in one common petition, That Old England may ne'er undergo requisition. English oak are our ships, brave and loyal our men, With hearts firm and steady, To thrash our invaters again and again. Our sailors are faithful, our soldiers are brave, English oak, &c. No taste have we Britons for frogs fricasced, No want of French Doctors our bodies to bleed: Our land, thank our stars! flows with milk and with honey, Which the French want to taste, and to pilfer our money. English oak, &c. The The treacherous Dutch are in terrible fear That the French will not leave them one stiver to 'spare; Let us arm with all speed both ourselves and our hosts, English oak are our ships, brave and loyal our men, With hearts firm and steady, To thrash these invaders again and again. DIE OR LIVE FREE. A New Song, respectfully inscribed to the ASSOCIATED VOLUNTEERS of the BRITISH EMPIRE. VOL. I. BY J. BISSET, MUSEUM, BIRMINGHAM. I Sing in the praise of each brave VOLUNTEER, To honour and glory, my boys, then advance, Strike Gallia with wonder, And humble the pride of the Tyrant of France. No tyrant o'er Britons in England shall reign, To honour, &c. What glory they'll share who return from the wars, To honour, &c. Though death may appal ev'ry coward and slave, LL To honour, &c. |