How oft has our fleet spread with terror their coast,
And this nation of boasters dismay'd;
While our soldiers victorious have routed her host,

And the Standard of England display'd.

Then let, &c.

Britannia now calls on her true hearts of oak,

Who danger and death still disdain ;

And dare vanquish'd Frenchmen her vengeance provoke,
And skulk in their boats o'er the main !

We've VINCENT and NELSON, the dread of our foes,

Britain's heroes triumphantly sing;

By conquest renown'd, for by merit they rose,

The pride of their Country and King.

Britannia still flourish! exultingly smile!

Then let, &c.

Fam'd for Valour, and Beauty's sweet charms;

While Navies victorious encircle your Isle,

Rest in safety, nor dread vain alarms.

CHORUS.

Then let the Ocean be their grave,
And sink the plund'ring band;
Their bodies wafted on each wave,
May this way reach the land.

Morning Post.

SELECTED POETRY.

THE DEVOTED AND VICTORIOUS BRITISH SOLDIER.

The Music by Lient. WM. ABINGTON, of the First Regiment of Royal East
India Volunteers, for a Regimental Band.

TO battle let Despots compel the poor slave,
His country for him has no charms;

But the voice of fair Freedom is heard by the brave,
And calls her own Britons to arms.

Our Country and King may triumphantly rest,
Encircled by Loyalty's bands;

For the spirit of Liberty glows in each breast,

And her sword shall ne'er drop from our hands.
How glorious to fall in youth's early bloom!
For Britain life's joys to resign:

The voice of bright fame will be heard from our tomb,
And our names be enroll'd in her shrine.

Raise the song to the Heroes of Britain's proud isle,
Whilst in strains proudly flowing we tell—

How the soldier's lov'd Chief, by the blood-streaming Nile,
Triumphantly conquer'd and fell.

Then, Britons, strike home to the French, on our shore,
Their Invincible Standard display;

By our Monarch array'd, on their vain legions pour,
And rival fam'd Aboukir's day.
Whilst proudly the banners of Victory wave,
The soldier exultingly dies;

The trophies of glory shine over his grave,
And his spirit ascends to the skies.

THE FRENCH IN A FOG.

Tune-" Hearts of Oak."

AGAIN of their prowess our enemies boast,
And again we are told, they will visit our coast!'
But with vaunting a Briton was never dismay'd,
For when Bobadil blusters—pray who is afraid?

"Hearts of Oak," &c.

They say they no longer our pride can endure,
And talk of our conquest, as if it was sure;
And, as sure as the day owes it's light to the sun,
If talking were fighting, we should be undone.

"Hearts of Oak," &c.

It seems in a FOG these great heroes confide,
When UNSEEN o'er the sea they think safely to ride;
For taught by our sailors, they know to their shame,
With Britons to see and to conquer's the same.

"Hearts of Oak," &c.

All their art, and their cunning, they know are in vain,
If they once chance to meet our brave sons of the main,
And if in a fog they escape safely o'er,

Still a fog they would need to preserve them on shore.
"Hearts of Oak." &c.

Perhaps they will tell us, we are not yet free,
And 'tis true we are not—a la mode de Paris;
For tho' with French fashions we've oft been disgrac'd,
This new-fashion'd freedom is not to our taste.

"Hearts of Oak," &c.

Their protection and freedom we know would be such,
As they kindly bestow on the Swiss and the Dutch;
They embrac'd them with accents fraternal and mild,
But hugg'd them to death as the bear hugg'd the child.
"Hearts of Oak," &c.

Then cheer up, my lads! let us fly to the field;
And nobly determine to die ere we yield;

And when we have conquer'd, as Britons we know,

A foe at our feet is no longer a foe.

"Hearts of Oak," &

THE ISLAND OF BRITAIN.

Tune HEARTS OF OAK.

My friends, ve bave heard, in the late British wars,
Of our navy-our admirals-brave British tars!
But the ship I would bring to your notice and view
Is the ISLAND OF BRITAIN, her Captain and Crew.
Heart of oak is this ship,
Hearts of oak are our men;

We always are ready, steady boys, steady;
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again

For
ages safe noord, in the Channel she's laid,

Made fast to a rock, of no danger afraid;
But now she is threaten'd to stay there no more,
To be boarded and plunder'd, or driven on shore.
Heart of oak, &c.

Her

Her CAPTAIN, God bless him! is lov'd by us all;
With HIM we 're determin'd to stand or to fall;
United in hand and in heart we await

The lot which great Providence seals as our fate.
Heart of oak, &c.

But the means in our hands we will ardently use;
We'll fight and no danger or hazard refuse;
For our lives---for our property---children and wives
We'll fight---for the old British spirit survives.

Heart of oak, Sc.

The ship is staunch good, and her timbers are sound:
Still fast to the rock we trust she'll be found;

Her hull, stores, and rigging, all malice defy;
I name not her sails---for she don't mean to FLY!
Heart of oak is this ship, c.

Then clear ship,

If they board us,

my boys! and each man to his gun;

UNITE, and we'll soon make them run;

And ages to come shall still have in view

THE ISLAND OF BRITAIN, her Captain, and Crew
Heart of oak is this ship, &c.

HEARTS OF OAK;

OR, THE BRITISH EMPIRE.

NOW the French threaten loudly-those terrible foes,
Alarm all our women, and scare all our beaux:

Let us fervently join in one common petition,

That Old England may ne'er undergo requisition.

English oak are our ships, brave and loyal our men,
All cager and ready,

With hearts firm and steady,

To thrash our invaters again and again.

Our sailors are faithful, our soldiers are brave,
Their King and their Country all anxious to save;
And whilst life shall remain to no traitors they'll yield,
For Virtue's their safeguard-Religion their shield.

English oak, &c.

No taste have we Britons for frogs fricasced,

No want of French Doctors our bodies to bleed:

Our land, thank our stars! flows with milk and with honey,

Which the French want to taste, and to pilfer our money.

English oak, &c.

The

The treacherous Dutch are in terrible fear

That the French will not leave them one stiver to 'spare;
The proud Dons of Spain look as small as a rat,
Lest their friendly allies from their mines skim the fat,
English oak, &c.

Let us arm with all speed both ourselves and our hosts,
Nor suffer French tyrants to land on our coasts:
Such tygers, my friends, we'll not trouble with words,
But end their exploits with the points of our swords.

English oak are our ships, brave and loyal our men,
All eager and ready,

With hearts firm and steady,

To thrash these invaders again and again.

DIE OR LIVE FREE.

A New Song, respectfully inscribed to the ASSOCIATED VOLUNTEERS of the BRITISH EMPIRE.

VOL. I.

BY J. BISSET, MUSEUM, BIRMINGHAM.
Tune-Hearts of Oak.

I Sing in the praise of each brave VOLUNTEER,
Whose name in Fame's annals inroll'd shall appear;
On Glory's proud scroll they recorded shall be,
As Britons resolving to die or live free."

To honour and glory, my boys, then advance,
With bold British thunder

Strike Gallia with wonder,

And humble the pride of the Tyrant of France.

No tyrant o'er Britons in England shall reign,
Great GEORGE and our RIGHTS we will ever maintain,
Let the loud trump of Fame then proclaim our decrce,
That Britons resolve or to die or live free.

To honour, &c.

What glory they'll share who return from the wars,
If for King or for Country they gain honour'd scars;
Their friends, wives, and sweethearts will welcome with glee,
The brave who resolv'd, or to die or live free.

To honour, &c.

Though death may appal ev'ry coward and slave,
No terrors has death for the valiant and brave!
Then haste, Gallic despot, in England you'll see,
That Britons resolve, or to die or live free,

LL

To honour, &c.
O hasten