Hark! the martial drums resound,
Valiant brothers, welcome all,
Crowd the royal standard round,
'Tis your injured country's call.
See, see, the robbers come,
Ruin seize the ruthless foe;
For your altars, for your homes,
Heroes lay the tyrants low!
He whom dastard fears abash,
He was born to be a slave--
Let him feel the despot's lash,
And sink inglorious to the grave.
See, see, &c.
He who spurns a coward's life,
He whose bosom freedom warms,
Let him share the glorious strife,
We 'll take the hero to our arms.
See, see, &c.
Spirits of the valiant dead,
Who fought and bled at Freedom's call,
In the path you dared to tread,
We, your sons, will stand or fall.
See, see, &c.
Bending from your airy halls,
Turn on us a guardian eye--
Lead where Fame or Honour calls,
And teach to conquer or to die!
See, see, &c.
[89] Written in 1805, when the nation was in apprehension of the French
invasion.