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Poem by Christian Milne
Written During His Majesty’s Illness, February, 1804
SEE how Britannia droops her head, This gloomy hour she sees, And weeps to find AUGUSTUS laid Depriv'd of health and ease. She anxious waits till Gallia's fleet Its mad-brain'd Chief obeys, Who bids it cut the briny wave, Where she her sceptre sways. Great GOD of Health! vouchsafe thine aid, Britannia's King restore; O give him long to fill his throne With health, and peace, and power. Drive the proud Tyrant and his hordes Far from Britannia's shore; Strike them with terror, that they may Their vain attempts give o'er. The Sons of Britain, free and brave, Will scorn presumptuous foes; If they approach, they'll meet and feel Sound hearts and home-struck blows. What countless heroes stand prepar'd To guard Britannia's isle, Who scorn, like them, to stain their steel, Like rav'ning wolves, for spoil. While GOD and Man thus guard our isle, The Gauls shall boast in vain; We'll tell them what ere this they knew-- "Britannia rules the Main!!"
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