Or, how the Royal Bard did groaning lie Or other holy seers that tuned the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his head: How his first followers and servants sped, The precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then, kneeling down to heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. BURNS. YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. YE mariners of England, That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved a thousand years Your glorious standard launch again, While the stormy tempests blow,— While battle rages loud and long, And stormy tempests blow. The spirit of your fathers Shall start from every wave, For the deck it was their field of fame, While the stormy tempests blow,While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep, Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, When the stormy tempests blow,When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, Then, then, ye ocean warriors, E To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow,- THE ACORN. BEAUTIFUL germ! I have set thee low May scowl at the sun, and mock at the storm. A hundred years, and in some fair hall HURRAH! FOR "OLD ENGLAND!" HURRAH! for "Old England!" Hurrah! To the nations afar, she's a bright polar star, And right is the might of her sway; The slave's shackles fall, as he touches her shore, All melted by liberty's ray. Hurrah! for the land of the brave! Hurrah! for the flag of the free! Oh! it floats ever gaily and bright o'er the wave, And homage still claims from the sea! That flag is unfurl'd to extend The empire of truth and of mind; Where its red cross is seen, it shows England the friend, The unflinching friend of mankind. We will cling to the land of our birth, We will cling to the land of our sires; For our own fatherland is the best spot on earth, And is all that a Briton desires. Our hearths and our altars are dear, Our Nobles, our Commons, our King, We'll defend them afar, and uphold them when near, And round them still rally, and sing Hurrah! for "Old England!" Hurrah! THE LAND OF MY BIRTH. THERE's a magical tie to the land of our home, Which the heart cannot break, though the footsteps may roam: Be that land where it may, at the line or the pole, Oh! England! thy white cliffs are dearer to me My country, I love thee!-though freely I'd rove Through the western savannah, or sweet orange grove; Yet warmly my bosom would welcome the gale That bore me away with a homeward-bound sail. |