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.

Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

James Thomson [1700-1748]

"YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND”

YE Mariners of England

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe;

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow,

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!-
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,

Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow!
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow!
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

Thomas Campbell [1777-1844]

"READY, AY, READY"

OLD England's sons are English yet,
Old England's hearts are strong;
And still she wears her coronet

Aflame with sword and song.
As in their pride our fathers died,
If need be, so die we;

So wield we still, gainsay who will,

The sceptre of the sea.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last,-Ready, ay, ready!

We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part,

We've Nelsons yet unknown;

The pulses of the Lion Heart

Beat on through Wellington.

Hold, Britain, hold thy creed of old,

Strong foe and steadfast friend,

And, still unto thy motto true,

Defy not, but defend.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last,-Ready, ay, ready!

Men whispered that our arm was weak,
Men said our blood was cold,

And that our hearts no longer speak

The clarion-note of old;

But let the spear and sword draw near

The sleeping lion's den,

His island shore shall start once more

To life with armèd men.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady;
Be thy first word thy last,-Ready, ay, ready!

Herman Charles Merivale [1806-1874]

"OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS" From "On a Mourner"

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet;
Above her shook the starry lights,
She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gathered in her prophet-mind,
But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.

Then stepped she down through town and field

To mingle with the human race,

And part by part to men revealed

The fullness of her face

Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-altar gazing down,

Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, king-like, wears the crown.

Her open eyes desire the truth.

The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and shine,

Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine

The falsehood of extremes!

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

AN ODE

IN IMITATION OF ALCAUS

WHAT Constitutes a State?

Not high-raised battlement or labored mound,

Thick wall or moated gate;

Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts,

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No:-men, high-minded men,

With powers as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,—

Men who their duties know,

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain; Prevent the long-aimed blow,

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:These constitute a State;

And sovereign Law, that State's collected will,

O'er thrones and globes elate

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

Smit by her sacred frown,

The fiend, Dissension, like a vapor sinks;

And e'en the all-dazzling Crown

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.

Such was this heaven-loved isle,

Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore!
No more shall Freedom smile?

Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?

Since all must life resign,

Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave,

'Tis folly to decline,

And steal inglorious to the silent grave,

William Jones (1746-1794]

ENGLAND, 1802

I

O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, oppressed,
To think that now our life is only dressed
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
Or groom! We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
This is idolatry; and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

II

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; .
Oh! raise us up, return to us again,
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart.
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.