PO, E:T Y: 913 
Yet, heayen-inspired, he knew, beyond contro} 
With strains sublime, to rouse the torpid soul, 
Swell with proud hopes the heart, and, by his breath, 
Kindle the love of fame, the scorn of death, 
And shall the British Muse, ’midst war’s alarms, 
In silence rest, nor rouse her sons to arms? 
Shall Britons yield an unresisting prey, 
And own a base Usurper’s foreign sway ? 
No—when ye march to guard your sea-girt shore, 
*¢ Return victorious, or return no more.” 
Greece, in her freedom’s most propitious hour, 
Wag’d impious wars, in quest of spoil, or power ; 
And Rome, through many an age, unjustly brave, 
Fought to oppress, and conquer’d to enslave. 
F’en the bright wreaths, our Edwards, Henries, claim, 
Crown’d not the cause of Freedom, but of Fame ; 
While fond Ambition, with misguided zeal, 
Sought England’s glory more than England’s weal, 
But when, of old, to chase a foreign host, 
The painted guardians of our Albion’s coast, 
O’er her white cliffs descending, from afar, 
On Cesar’s legions pour’d the tide of war, 
When scythed chariots swept th’ ensanguin’d plain, 
Then bards, enraptur’d, sung this patriot strain : 
¢ Ye generous youths, who guard the British shore! 
Return victorious! or return no more !” 
Again Britannia sounds her just alarms ; 
Nor lures by Int’rest or Ambition’s charms, 
But prompts to deeds, which fairer trophies yield 
Than grac’d e’en Agincourt’s immortal field, 
And bids you guard, in free and gallant strife, 
All that adorns, improves, or sweetens life. 
Your homes, by faithful love and friendship blest, 
Each pledge of love, now smiling at the breast. 
Your daughter’s, fresh in bloom, mature in charms, 
Doom’d (should he conquer) to the spoiler’s arms ; 
Yoursons, who hear the Tyrant’s threats with scorn, 
The joys, the hopes, of ages yet unborn ; 
All, all, endear this just, this sacred cause, 
Your Sov’reign’s throne, your Freedom, Faith, and Laws, 
Champions of Britain’s cherish’d rights ye stand : 
Protect, preserve, avenge your native land ! 
For lo! she cries, amidst the battle’s roar, 
** Kketurn victorious, or—return no more!” 
Vou. XLV. . 3N From 
