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To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
Without the sin of violating thine :
And while the wings of fancy still are free,
And I can view this mimic18 show of thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft-
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.


ENGLAND, with all thy faults, I love thee still-
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though thy clime
Be fickle, and thy year, most part, deform'd
With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies,
And fields without a flower, for warmer France
With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia’s groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Of patriotic eloquence to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task:
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart
As any thunderer there. And I can feel
Thy follies, too; and with a just disdain

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18 mimic, imitative.
1 constrained, forced.
2 Ausonia, the country of tho

Ausones. From Auson, a son of
Ulysses and Calypso, but here,
generally, for Italy,

Frown at effeminates, whose very looks
Reflect dishonour on the land I love.
How, in the name of soldiership and sense,
Should England prosper, 4 when such things, as smooth
And tender as a girl, all-essenced o'er
With odours, and as profligate as sweet;
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath,
And love when they should fight;ð when such as these
Presume to lay their hand upon the ark
Of her magnificent and awful cause ?

Time was when it was praise and boast enough
In every clime, and travel where we might,
That we were born her children. Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother tongue,
And Wolfe's' great name compatriot with his own.
Farewell those honours, and farewell with them
The hope of such hereafter ! They have fallen,
Each in his field of glory; one in arms,
And one in council-Wolfe upon the lap
Of smiling Victory that moment won,
And Chatham, heart-sick of his country's shame.”



3 effeminates, women-like men.
4 "The Task," from which this piece

was taken, was completed in
October, 1784, when the disas-
trous American war had just

ended with the loss of America. 5 Gen. Burgoyne is alluded to. He had

surrendered, at Saratoga, to the Americans, in 1777. In London he had previously been known only as a gay man of fashion, a

song writer, dramatist, and musician. " The Dashing White Serjeant" is one of his songs. He had sought the poet's “myrtle," rather

than the soldier's "laurels." 6 Lord Chatham. 7 General Wolfe. 8 At the battle of the Plains of Abra

ham, 1759, which won Canada

for us.

9 Lord Chatham died in the House of

Lords, in 1778.

They made us many soldiers. Chatham, still
Consulting England's happiness at home,
Secur'd it by an unforgiving frown,
If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fought,
Put so much of his heart into his act,
That his example had a magnet's force,
And all were swift to follow whom all loved.
Those suns are set. Oh rise some other such !
Or all that we have left, is empty talk
Of old achievements, and despair of new,

- 5 –

Mrs. BARDAULD.-Born, 1743; Died, 1825.

Mrs. Barbauld was the daughter of the Rev. John Aikin, of Leicester, and the wife of the Rev. Rochemont Barbauld. In conjunction with her brother she wrote the famous book, “ Evenings at Homo," and was, besides, a voluminous writer in prose and verse.


LIFE! we've been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather,
"Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;

Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time,
Say not "Good night," but in some brighter clime
Bid me "Good morning."

C. DIBDIN.--Born, 1745; Died, 1814.

Charles Dibdin was an admirable writer of sea-songs, of which he composed no fewer than about 1200. He enjoyed a pension of £2 a year from Government in consideration of his services to the nation as their author.


The signal to engage shall be

A whistle and a hollo;
Be one and all but firm, like me,

And conquest soon will follow!
You, Gunnel, keep the helm in hand-

Thus, thus, boys! steady, steady,
Till right a-head you see the land, -

Then soon as we are ready,
-The signal to engage shall be

A whistle and a hollo;
Be one and all but firm, like me,

And conquest soon will follow!
Keep, boys, a good look out, d'ye hear?

'Tis for Old England's honour;
Just as you brought your lower tier
Broad-side to bear


- The signal to engage shall be

A whistle and a hollo;
Be one and all but firm, like me,

And conquest soon will follow!
All hands then, lads, the ship to clear;
Load all your guns and mortars;


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BRITANNIA'S NAME. BRITANNIA's name, from age to age,

Has like her cliffs stood fast, And promises, in history's page,

In honour long to last.
Her sailors rulers of the sea,

Her soldiers, of that soil
On which the industrious peasantry,

To give it value, toil;
All, all shall hail Britannia's name,
By glory handed down to fame!
Then sing our tars, who boldly roam

Our glory to insure;
And sing our soldiers, who at home

That glory well secure:
And sing our peasants, at a word,

Who, of mankind the friend,
Would turn each ploughshare to a sword,

Their country to defend.
All, all shall sing Britannia's name,
As glory hands it down to fame!

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