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Does haughty Gaul invasion threat

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Dear Harp of my country! in darkness I found thee 216
Despond who will-I heard a voice exclaim
Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe
O'Neill

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Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile

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England, queen of the waves, whose green inviolate

girdle enrings thee round.

Erin, the tear and the smile in thine eyes

Fair stood the wind for France.

Fareweel to Lochaber, fareweel to my Jean
Far up among the forest-belted mountains
Fierce on this bastion beats the noon-day sun
First pledge our Queen this solemn night
Forests that beard the avalanche
Frae the friends and land I love

Free as the wind that leaps from out the North
From domes and palaces I bent my way

Glyndwr, see thy comet flaming
God be with the Irish host

God of Nations! at Thy feet

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God of our fathers, known of old

God save our Lord, the King

Green fields of England! wheresoe'er

Green Flodden! on thy bloodstained head
Growing to full manhood now.

Half a league, half a league

Harp of the mountain-land! sound forth again
Have done with care, my hearts! aboard amain
Heard ye the thunder of battle

He left his island home

Her court was pure; her life serene
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling
Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more
Here's a health to the King and a lasting peace
Here's a health unto His Majesty
How great the loss is thy loss to me

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'How many?' said our good captain
How sleep the brave who sink to rest

I know 'tis but a loom of land.
I may sit in my wee croo house
I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary

In all my wanderings round this world of care
In a quiet water'd land, a land of roses

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In the greyness of the dawning we have seen the
pilot-star

In the Highlands, in the country places.
In the ranks of the Austrian you found him

I remember the lowering wintry morn

It is not to be thought of that the flood

I send to you

It's hame, an' it's hame, hame fain wad I be
It was a' for our rightfu' king.

It wasna from a golden throne.

I've heard the lark's cry thrill the sky o'er the

meadows of Lusk

I've heard the liltin' at our ewe-milkin'

Jack dances and sings, and is always content.

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Lying here awake, I hear the watchman's warning

March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale
Men of England! who inherit.

Men of the Hills and men of the Plains, men of
the Isles and Sea

Methinks already from this chymic flame
My England, island England, such leagues and
leagues away

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here.
My name, d'ye see, 's Tom Tough, I've seed a little

sarvice

Bid her name

New Year, be good to England.

Nobly, nobly Cape St. Vincent to the North-West

died away.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not 'mid the thunder of the battle guns
Not tasselled palm or bended cypress wooing
Now all the youth of England are on fire

O, Bay of Dublin! how my heart you're troublin'
Oh! Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling
O Child of Nations, giant-limbed

O England, thou hast many a precious dower.
Of Nelson and the North.

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Of old sat Freedom on the heights

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O, Kenmure's on and awa, Willie

O land of Druid and of Bard

O! my dark Rosaleen

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Once more upon the waters! yet once more

'On with the charge!' he cries, and waves his
sword

O, Paddy dear! an' did ye hear the news that's
goin' round

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O, the East is but West, with the sun a little hotter 243
O, then, tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall, tell me why you

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O, 'twas merry down to Looe when the news was

carried through.

O undistinguished Dead

Our second Richard Lion-Heart

O, where, Kincora ! is Brien the Great

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O, where's the slave so lowly

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O'where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie

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O! why left I my hame

O ye, who with your blood and sweat

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu

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Sang one of England in his island home

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Say not the struggle naught availeth
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled

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See, see where Royal Snowdon rears
She is a rich and rare land

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She is far from the land where her
sleeps

young hero

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She stands alone: ally nor friend has she

She stands, a thousand-wintered tree

Shy bird of the silver arrows of song

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Son of the Ocean Isle

Sons in my gates of the West

Speak gently, gently tread

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing

Steep is the soldier's path; nor are the heights
Still stand thy ruins 'neath the Indian sky
Sun-showered land! largess of golden light
Sye, do yer 'ear thet bugle callin'

The Campbells are comin', O-ho, O-ho
The camp-fire gleams resistance
The cool and pleasant days are past

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The feast is spread through England

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The fifteenth day of July

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The forward youth that would appear

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The harp that once through Tara's halls

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There are boys to-day in the city slum and the home
of wealth and pride.

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There's a land, a dear land, where the rights of the

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There was a sound of revelry by night
There was heard the sound of a coming foe

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The seaman slept-all nature sleeps; a sacred still-

ness there.

The waves are dashing proudly down
The weary day rins down and dies

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They called Thee MERRY ENGLAND in old time
They lie unwatched, in waste and vacant places
They say that war is hell,' the 'great accursed'
This England never did, nor never shall.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptr'd isle
Thy voice is heard through rolling drums
To-day the people gather from the streets
To horse! to horse! the standard flies
Toll for the Brave

To mute and to material things

To my true king I offered free from stain

To Thee, our God, we fly.

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To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke 187

Truth, winged and enkindled with rapture

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War-worn, sun-scorched, stained with the dust of
toil

We cheered you forth-brilliant and kind and brave
We come from tower and grange

We come in arms, we stand ten score
Welcome, wild North-easter

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'Well done!' The cry goes ringing round the

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We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea

What are the bugles saying

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Whate'er of woe the Dark may hide in womb
What have I done for you

What of the bow

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When Britain first at Heaven's command

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When the British warrior queen

Where Foyle her swelling waters

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Where the remote Bermudas ride

Who 'as 'eard the Ram a callin' on the green fields

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Who is he that cometh, like an honour'd guest

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