POETRY. 901 



ODE 



To the Pcoph of Great Brilainy on the threatened Invasion. 

 By Dr. Charles Burxey. 



ARM, Britons, arm ! Your Country's cause, 

 Your Monarch, Constitution, Laws, 

 Religion, wives, and infant train. 

 Now call to arms ! — nor let their call be vain ! 



No : tread the path which erst your fathers trod : 



The stake is England! Britons, rise: 

 Your foes arc Gauls ! Those foes chastise: 

 Foes to your King, your Country, and your God ! 



Shall he, — witli virtues amply known, 



Our King, be hurl'd from Britain's throne 



By Gauls, embrucd in royal gore, 

 Who menace death or slavery round our shore ? 

 No : tread the path w hich erst your fathers trod : 



Nor let the foes' licentious pride 



Your Monarch's lawful power deride: 

 Foes to your King, your Country, and your God ! 



Shall Ave, who boast a Briton's name, 



Renounce our Constitution's claim ? 



King, Lords, and Commons, levell'd low, — 

 And, tamely crouching, court the threaten'd blow ? 

 No: tread tlie path which erst your fathers trod : 



No foes in arms, with treacherous hate, 



Shall shake your church, shall change your state, 

 Foes to your King, your Country, and your God ! 



Shall we, whose laws our rights secure, 



Protecting all, — or rich or poor, — 



Those laws abandon : — fram'd of old 

 By sires whose souls were stamp'd in Freedom's mould ? 

 No : tread the path which erst your fathers trod : • 



No proud dictator Britain knows : 



Nor brook the rule of tyrant foes : 

 Foes to your King, your Country, and your God ! 



Shall we Religion's voice neglect : 

 . Her duties spurn, her word reject: 

 While priests i)y ruthless steel expire. 

 And temples sink, involv'd in Atheist tire ? 



3 M 3 Na :— 



