| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Intrepid sons to freedom true |
17 |
1 |
| Indulgent Phoebus bless the morn |
17-18 |
6 |
| Independence a portion belongs not the king |
18-19 |
4 |
| Of sports enjoy'd beneath the sun |
19-21 |
9 |
| I fear, traytors hear, sweet mercy call |
21 |
1 |
| Fleets spread thy canvas wing |
21-23 |
5 |
| See, worn with grief and languid on her shores |
23 |
1 |
| Away, away with meaner things |
23-24 |
6 |
| Heav'n bless the royal pair |
24 |
1 |
| My brother soldiers come away |
25 |
3 |
| Should good madeira prove your end |
26 |
2 |
| My good paper stainer |
26 |
1 |
| This morning I found at the rising of Phoebus |
26-27 |
3 |
| Surely stands first in the honour'd name Howe |
27 |
1 |
| Howe is the great name to which you allude |
27 |
1 |
| To Britons true hearted I offer my song |
28-29 |
4 |
| Phoebus no more afford us day |
29-30 |
1 |
| Tho' muse breaches sincerest love |
30 |
|
| If kind Maria will's it so |
30 |
4 |
| On this day of renown |
31-33 |
11 |
| Ye sons of Old England, hold honour in view |
33-34 |
6 |
| What swells within yon southern breeze? |
34-35 |
9 |
| God of all worlds preserve the King |
36 |
|
| Britain now recalls her thunder |
37 |
6 |
| Senseless as tho' in life no more |
38-39 |
2 |
| Scarce had the dreadful din of arms |
40-41 |
7 |
| No sooner Estaing got good harbour & cheer |
42-43 |
8 |
| Antiquity exults no more |
43-44 |
5 |
| All pow'rful omnipotent Lord |
45 |
|
| Sole cause of day; celestial globe |
45-47 |
5 |
| We volunteers of high renown |
47-48 |
11 |
| Fair Venus the goddess of beauty and love |
49-50 |
6 |
| Of reg'ments renowned they tell us |
51-52 |
4 |
| Independents of old, as in history we're told |
60-61 |
4 |
| Arise sweet messenger of morn |
61 |
6 |
| My fond shepherds of late were so blest |
62 |
4 |
| How soft and yet majestic is her air |
62 |
4 |
| O the raptures of possessing |
63 |
1 |
| To meet her Mars the queen of love |
63 |
1 |
| Rise glory rise, in all thy charms |
63 |
1 |
| New flown birds the shepherds sing, The |
63-64 |
6 |
| And In each tract of glory free |
64 |
|
| In the garb of old Gaul and the fire of old Rome |
65-66 |
7 |
| In infancy our hopes and fears |
67 |
2 |
| When Molly smiles beneath the cow |
67-68 |
5 |
| Rise Britannia's sons arise and see |
68-69 |
6 |
| Stand round my brave boys with heart and with voice |
69-70 |
5 |
| Arm, arm, the generous Briton's cry |
70 |
1 |
| Crown your bowls |
70 |
4 |
| Youth that I, The |
71 |
2 |
| Come ye lads who wish to shine |
71-72 |
8 |
| Guid people, it grieves your poor Sawney to tell |
73-74 |
5 |
| Good neighbors, if you're not afraid |
75-76 |
12 |