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!!"