PO:‘IE. ER Y. O17 
All ranks, all ages, feel the high alarms, 
At Glory’s call, impatient rush to arms ; 
Ardent to meet a foe their souls disdain, 
Conqu’rors on shore, and sovereigns on the main! 
To victory rush on, ye dauntless bands, 
The fate of Europe trembles in your hands ! 
Oh! still for glory pant, for Britain burn, 
Nor to the sheath the avenging blade return, 
Till Liberty her trampled rights regain, 
Till justice re-assume her ancient reign, 
Till vanquished Gaul in blood her crimes bemoan, 
And heaven’s avenging arm repentant own ; 
Or, in the chains she forg’d for Europe, bound, 
Spend her vain rage, and prostrate bite the ground ! 
Britons! the criss of her fate draws near ; 
Advance your standards, launch th’ avenging spear, 
In radiant arms indissolubly join’d, 
Your firmness hath subdu’d the world combin’d! 
LINES 
On James IV. of Scotland, who fell at the Battle of Flodden, by T. Camr- 
BELL, Esq. (unpublished. ) 
26 Bhi he that rul’d his country’s heart, 
With more than royal sway ; 
But Scotland saw her James depart, 
And sadden’d at his stay. 
She heard his fate—she wept her grief— 
That James her lov’d, her gallant chief, 
Was gonefor evermore: - 
But this she learnt, that, ere he fell, 
(Oh Men! oh Patriots ! mark it well) 
His fellow soldiers. round his fall, 
Enclos’d him like a living wall, 
Mixing their kindred gore! 
Nor was the day of Flodden done, 
Till they were slaughter’d one by one ; 
. And this may serve to shew: 
; When Kings are Patriots none will fly— 
When such a King was doom’d to die, 
Oh who would death forego* ? 
3N3 EPITAPH, 
* The gallant promise, made by our beloved monarch, that, in case of invasion, 
he would be found, in the hour of danger, at the head of his troops, gave birth to 
the above effusion, 
