CAVALIER TUNES

I

MARCHING ALONG

KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing, a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk
droop,

Marched them along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

God for King Charles! Pym and such carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!

Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,

Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup
Till you're

CHORUS. Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?

Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell.

Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as

well!

England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here,
CHORUS.-Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing
this song?

Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls

To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent
carles!

Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,
CHORUS.-March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing
this song!

II.

GIVE A ROUSE

King Charles, and who 'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, King Charles!

Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?

Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?
CHORUS.-King Charles, and who'll do him
right now?

King Charles, and who's ripe for figh
now?

Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite

now,

King Charles!

To whom used my boy George quaff else,
By the old fool's side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh else,
While Noll's damned troopers shot him?
CHORUS.-King Charles, and who'll do him
right now?

King Charles, and who's ripe for fight
now?

Give a rouse: here 's, in hell's despite

now,

King Charles!

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III

BOOT AND SADDLE

Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray.
CHORUS.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! 4

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray God's luck to gallants that strike up the layCHORUS.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" 8

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads'

array:

Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by my fay, CHORUS.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and

away!"

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Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, “Nay! I've better counsellors; what counsel they?

WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command,

Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung the strain:
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves!
For Britons never will be slaves.

The nations not so blest as thee

Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish, great and free, The dread and envy of them all.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful from each foreign stroke;

As the loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;

All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,

But work their woe, and thy renown.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.

The Muses, still with Freedom found,"
Shall to thy happy coast repair;

Blest Isle! with matchless beauty crowned,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.

1740.

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James Thomson.

ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782

O THOU that sendest out the man
To rule by land and sea,

Strong mother of a Lion-line,

Be proud of those strong sons of thine
Who wrench'd their rights from thee!

What wonder if in noble heat

Those men thine arms withstood,
Retaught the lesson thou hadst taught,
And in thy spirit with thee fought—
Who sprang from English blood!

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