A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

l'OZKB OP JUIWOK AJ(l) l'4TJIJOTI.Bll,

· A SONG J'OR VOLUl!TURB.

Wno eaya we are craven and cold,

Unworthy the land of our aires:-

That our souls worship nothing but gold,

Tbat quench'd are our patriot .fire .. t

They lie I-F or our dear native land,

Renown'd from the ages alar,

Prejxned against all foea we stand,

Oll.r Rifiea are ready! Hurrah!

Then up with the Rifie I Hurrah!

Our isle is the home of the free,

It owua neither tyrant nor alave;

To defend it on l&nd or on sea,

W o have bes.rts ever ready and brave.

And if ever a despot should dare

To threaten invasion or war,

We'd soon give him cauae to beware

Of ua and ow Rifles.. Hurrah I

Our Ri1l.ea are ready! Hurrah I

Sno.&TBR

rnu anb c:falst :J.ouaUJl.

Wx love
The king who loves the law, respects hla bound>5,
ADd reigns content within them: him we sen-e
Freely, and with delight, who leaves ua free;
But recollecting still that he is man,
We trust him not too far. King though he be,
And king in England too, he may be weak,
And vain enough to be ambitious atill;
.May exercise &UJisa his prope1· power:s,
Or covet more than freemen choose to grant :
Beyond that mark ill treason. He ill our:s
To administer, to guard, to adoru the state,
But not to warp or change it. We are his
To serve him nobly in the common cause,
True to the death, but not to be his alavea.