Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades, Our leaders march with fuses, and we with hand grenades, We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears, Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers! And when the siege is over, we to the town repair, The townsmen cry, 'Hurrah, boys, here comes a Grenadier! 'Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!' Then sing, tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers! Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes, May they and their commanders live happy all their years, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers! XXX Anonymous. THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill, I seek no more the fine or gay, For each does but remind me Oh, ne'er shall I forget the night, When first she vowed to love me. But now I'm bound to Brighton camp, To the girl I've left behind me. My mind her form shall still retain, For whom my heart is breaking. And she should not decline me, I evermore will live and stay With the girl I've left behind me. Anonymous. XXXI THE ARETHUSA COME, all ye jolly sailors bold, Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould, Huzza for the Arethusa! To their fav'rite launch, And when the foe shall meet our fire, 'Twas with the spring fleet she went out The famed Belle Poule straight ahead did lie, Not a sheet, or a tack, Or a brace, did she slack; Though the Frenchmen laughed and thought it stuff, But they knew not the handful of men, how tough, On board of the Arethusa. On deck five hundred men did dance, On board of the Arethusa. Our captain hailed the Frenchman, 'Ho!' To our admiral's lee!' 'No, no,' says the Frenchman, 'that can't be!' The fight was off the Frenchman's land, And now we've driven the foe ashore To his fav'rite lass; A health to our captain and officers true, On board of the Arethusa. XXXII Prince Hoare. JERUSALEM IN ENGLAND ENGLAND, awake! awake! awake! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death, Thy hills and valleys felt her feet And now the time returns again: Our souls exult; and London's towers In England's green and pleasant bowers. And did those feet in ancient time On England's pleasant pastures seen? And did the Countenance Divine Bring me my bow of burning gold! I will not cease from mental fight, In England's green and pleasant land. William Blake. XXXIII ON LANDING IN ENGLAND HERE, on our native soil, we breathe once more. Of bells; those boys who in yon meadow-ground grass William Wordsworth. XXXIV DESTINY It is not to be thought of that the Flood Be lost for ever-In our halls is hung XXXV THE MOTHERLAND WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we who find And I, by my affection was beguiled: Among the many movements of his mind, William Wordsworth. |