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1803.1
War Song
Richard Mant [1]
The Poetical Register and Repository of Fugitive Poetry, II (1803),
pp. 195-196
The Gentleman's Magazine, LXXIII (July 1803), pp. 665-666 [2]
By Rev. R. Mant, A.M.
Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford.
Written in May, 1803, on the Publication of the
Negotiation Papers
What! shall they seek the lion in his den,
And fright him there? And make his tremble there?
O, let it not be said!-------[3]
__________
Britons, bow the haughty head![4]
"Bend, Britons, bend the
stubborn knee!
"Own your ancient virtue fled,
"And know not that ye
once were free.
"Think not as your fathers
thought;
"Speak no more, as Britons
ought;
"Act no more the Britons'
part,
"With valiant hand and
honest heart;
"What indignation bids
you feel,
"Dare not, dare not to
reveal;
"Though Justice sharpen, dare not grasp the lance,
"Nor single-handed tempt the might of France!
"Me, Holland, Italy obey:
"Her breast with many
a war wound gor'd,
"And crush'd beneath my iron sway,
"Me Helvetia owns
her Lord.
"Boast not then your fleets,
that sweep
"The eastern and the western
deep!
"Boast not then your sea-wash'd
land,
"Rampart-girt by Nature's
hand!
"Fleets and billows stay
not me—
"Then bow the head, and
bend the knee.
"Britons, no more your rival ranks advance,
"Nor single-handed dare to cope with France!"
Yes! as our Albion's root-bound oak
Stoops to the tempest,
we will bow!
Yes! we will bend, as the tall rock
Mocking the wave that
chafes below!
Now by the sable Prince
inbrued
Once and again in Gallic
blood;
By the laurels that intwine,
Harry, thy helm;
and Marlborough, thine;
By our Chiefs on Nilus'
tide,
Him, who triumph'd; him,
who died;
By him, whom Acon's
turrets raise
To lion-hearted Richard's
praise;[5]
Yes! we will still our rival ranks advance,
And single-handed brave the might of France.
Come then, come thou Consul-king!
Launch thy navies, arm
thine host,
And beneath night's favouring wing
Thy banners plant on England's
coast![6]
Come! but hope not to
return—
Here other thoughts thou
soon shalt learn;
Shalt feel that Britons
still may claim
The honours of the British
name;
Can fearless still maintain
their stand
On British, as on Syrian,
land;
Still rise superior to the sons of Chance,
Still single-handed crush the pride of France.