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Waterloo has not produced a song which can be compared with those splendid lyrics, the "Battle of the Baltic," and "Ye Mariners of England." Indeed, it would appear that however popular the "red coats may be among the ladies of the land, they are not by any means so popular as the 66 blue among the poets and the musicians. The dangers and the glories, the hardships and the rewards, the grief and the joy of soldiers, have found echoes comparatively faint in the hearts of the people. Even the patriotic song of "Rule Britannia" included in this series, partakes more of the character of a naval than of a military anthem.

FROM MERCILESS INVADERS.

FROM merciless invaders,

From wicked men's device,
O GOD! arise and help us,
To quell our enemies:
Sink deep their potent navies,
Their strength and courage break,
O GOD! arise and save us,
For Jesus Christ his sake.

Though cruel Spain and Parma,
With heathen legions come,
O GOD! arise and arm us,
We'll die for our home;
We will not change our credo,
For Pope, nor book, nor bell,
And if the devil come himself,

We'll hound him back to hell.

"This," says Mr. Chappell, in a note in his collection of National English Airs, "is a sort of hymn, which appears to have been written at the time of the threatened invasion of the Spanish Armada, and is here given from a manuscript in the possession of R. Pearsall, Esq., bearing the date of 1588. The mixture of devotion and defiance in the words, forms a curious sample of the spirit of the times."

Mr. Pearsall, the proprietor of the manuscript, in a note communicated to Mr. Chappell, says "The original MS. came into my possession with some family papers, derived from my father's maternal grandfather, John Still, who was the great grandson of John Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells in the time of Elizabeth," (author of Gammer Gurton's Needle,' and the song of 'Jolly Good Ale, and Old.") "He was," adds Mr. Pearsall," a very distinguished amateur of music; and I feel confident that both the music and the words are the bishop's own composition. The MS. is headed thus:— "A hymne to be sung by all Englande ;-Women, Youthes, Clarkes, and Souldiers.— Made by J.S."

GOD SAVE THE KING.
GOD save our gracious King,
Long live our noble King,
GOD save the King.
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
GOD save the King.

O Lord our God, arise,
Scatter his enemies,

And make them fall;

Confound their politics,

Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On him our hopes we fix,
GOD save us all.

Thy choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleased to pour,
Long may he reign.
May he defend our laws,

And ever give us cause

To sing with heart and voice

GOD save the King.

The national song of GOD Save the King [may it long continue to be sung as now, GOD save the QUEEN]-is generally believed to have been composed by Dr. John Bull for King James the First, A.D, 1667. The authorship both of the words and music has long been a matter of dispute, and has excited almost as much controversy as the authorship of the letters of Junius. Mr. Chappell, in the notes to his collection of Old English Airs, states that "about the year 1796, George Saville Carey asserted his father's claim to the authorship of this song, and made a journey to Windsor in the hope of obtaining some pecuniary recompense from the King. His claim was acquiesced in by Archdeacon Coxe, in his anecdotes of J. C. Smith, Handel's amanuensis; and by Mr. S. Jones, in his 'Biographia Dramatica.' It was by no means G. S. Carey's wish, though he claimed the authorship for his father, to prove also that it was first written for King James, as that would have defeated his hopes of reward; and probably his concealment of that fact tended more than any thing else to throw a suspicion upon his statement. It was immediately proved, upon concurrent testimonies, to have been sung' GOD save great James, our King,' and from that time we may date the endless discussions and assertions on the subject. Although it is impossible to prove at this distance of time that Harry Carey was actually the author and composer of the National Anthem, yet, there being not a shadow of proof of any other claim, his having the direct and positive attestations of J. C. Smith and Dr. Harrington, coupled with the strong internal evidence in both words and music leave little doubt on the subject. Add to this, that the accounts of Dr. Burney and Dr. Cooke, of its having been sung 'GOD save great James,' are clearly reconcilable with its being his production; that all attempts to prove a copy before Carey's time have failed; moreover, it is admitted that he sang it in public (announcing it as his own production) five years before the first publication; and his not claiming it when it attained its great popularity in 1745, being explained by his having put an end to his existence three years before, at the advanced age of eighty, and leaving his son an infant."

THE SOLDIER'S GLEE."

From "Deuteromelia; or, the Second Part of Musick's Melodie," &c., 1609.
WE be soldiers three,

Pardonnez moi je vous en prie;
Lately come forth of the low country,
With never a penny of monie.

Here good fellow, I drink to thee!
Pardonnez moi je vous en prie;
To all good fellows wherever they be,
With never a penny of monie.
And he that will not pledge me this,
Pardonnez moi je vous en prie ;
Pays for the shot whatever it is,
With never a penny of monie.

Charge it again boy, charge it again,
Pardonnez moi je vous en prie;
As long as there is any ink in thy pen,
With never a penny of monie.

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JOHN DRYDEN. From the opera of "King Arthur."
COME, if you dare, our trumpets sound;
Come, if you dare, the foes rebound!
"We come, we come!"

Says the double beat of the thund'ring drum,
Now they charge on amain,

Now they rally again;

The gods from above the mad labour behold,
And pity mankind that will perish for gold.

The fainting foemen quit their ground,
Their trumpets languish in the sound-
They fly they fly!

"Victoria! Victoria!" the bold Britons cry.
Now the victory's won,

To the plunder we run;

Then return to our lasses like fortunate traders,

Triumphant with spoils of the vanquished invaders.

The morality of this admired song-admired for its music, not for its poetry-is by no means of the best. Plunder, even of an invader, should form no part of the true soldier's aspirations. "The angels above the mad labour behold" might be suggested as an improvement upon the paganism "The gods from above.'

RULE BRITANNIA.

JAMES THOMSON, author of "The Seasons," born 1700, died 1748.

WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command,

Arose from out the azure main,

This was the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang the strain;

Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves;
Britons never will be slaves.

The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must in their turn, to tyrants fall;

Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free,
The dread and envy of them all:

Rule Britannia, &c.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful from each foreign stroke;

As the loud blasts that tear thy skies,
Serve but to root thy native oak:

Rule Britannia, &c.

Thee, haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to hurl thee down,

Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame,

And work their woe-but thy renown:
Rule Britannia, &c.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine:

All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore encircle thine:

Rule Britannia, &c.

The Muses, still with Freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle with matchless beauty crown'd,

And manly hearts to guard the fair.

Rule Britannia, &c.

This celebrated song was first sung in the "Masque of Alfred," a performance which was the joint production of James Thomson and David Mallet. The Masque was written by command of the Prince of Wales, father of George III., for his entertainment of the Court, and was first performed at Clifden in 1740, on the birthday of H.R.H. the Princess of Wales.

THE DEATH OF THE BRAVE.

WILLIAM COLLINS, born 1720, died 1756.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould;
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

THE ROAST BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND.

HENRY FIELDING AND RICHARD LEveridge.

WHEN mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food,
It ennobled our hearts, and enriched our blood;
Our soldiers were brave, and our courtiers were good.
Oh! the Roast Beef of old England,

And oh the old English Roast Beef.

But since we have learned from effeminate France
To eat their ragouts, as well as to dance,
We are fed up with nothing but vain complaisance,
Oh! the Roast Beef, &c.

Our fathers of old were robust, stout, and strong.
And kept open house with good cheer all day long,
Which made their plump tenants rejoice in this song,
Oh! the Roast Beef, &e

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