Classic Poem

Sung at the Anniversary of Mr. Fox's Birth.

I.

Well , now that the prospect of Britain's a blank —
No hope from her councils, or gold from her Bank;
When all the vile schemes of destruction and woe
Have come back on ourselves , that were meant for our Foe ;

When projects of famine and fire have fail'd us,
And heaven's just wrath is entail'd on our guilt;
Shall we plunge further into this chaos of sin —
That our children may bleed for the Blood WE have spilt?

CHORUS.

Ah, no, Britons; no — it cannot be so,
While there's justice ABOVE , and oppression BELOW !

II.

When all schemes, all attempts, all delusions we've tried,
Have but blazon'd our folly and humbled our pride;
When the millions we've wasted in impotent aim
Are as barren of fruit as — the Minister's frame ;

When danger is all that we've got by his measures,
And beggary all that he's bought with our gold;
Shall we now be bereft of the little that's left —
'Till WE ALL , like himself, to perdition be sold?
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

III.

When a train of bright glory unknown 'till our day
Lights the soldiers of freedom, like stars, on their way;
When torrents and floods, by a will from on high,
In ONE country freeze up , in ANOTHER run dry ;

When equity's balance to slaves gives redemption,
And NATURE concurs to spread freedom and light;
Shall we wickedly strive to keep darkness alive,
That the blessing of heaven be hid from their sight?
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

IV.

When a visiting plague o'er our conquests is spread,
'Till the earth we have seiz'd has scarce room for our dead;
Where army on army God's judgment defies,
While pestilence swallows what madness supplies ;

Where our gold and our blood alike wastingly vanish —
The treasures of B RITAIN sink dead as her sons,
Shall we drain our own State to make war against fate —
And in HEAVEN'S OWN FACE plant our blasphemous guns?
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

V.

When business of State's a mere personal trade ;
When the Senate is bought , and the people betray'd ;
When baseness and pride, link'd in T YRANNY'S cause,
Laugh E NGLAND to scorn, and disfigure her laws ;

When impudence, mockery, hate, and defiance
Is all that the people obtain for their pray'r;
Shall we crouchingly lie, and see L IBERTY die —
The charge our brave ancestors left to our care?
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

VI.

Around, while despair, disappointment, and hate,
Sit moodily mourning the sins of the State;
When men, as they mute and disconsolate stand,
Seem stunn'd with the fate that hangs over the land;

When all is debasement, depression, and terror,
And rotton corruption the bond of the State;
We feel the sad times a true fruit of our crimes —
And a justice divine in the VENGEANCE OF FATE !
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

VII.

When Britons to tame beasts of burden descend —
When the more that's heap'd on 'em, the better they bend;
When lashes and loads have been laid on their backs,
'Till the slaves are so sore they can't carry their packs;

When scourg'd by taxation and padlock'd by terror,
Their tongues are tied up while they rifle their purse;
Be vex'd as we may, 'faith, one cannot but say,
The burthen's WELL FITTED , and JUST is the curse!
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

VIII.

When a legion of soldiers keep watch o'er each town,
To strike the faint spirit of Liberty down;
When a merciless Statesman, sustain'd by the sword,
Strides daring in arms , and makes law at a word ;

When bold VIOLATION , back'd home by COERCION ,
Leaves nothing but death or disgrace in our way;
Shall chains , or the grave — the sad choice of the slave
Thus blast the fair glories of Runnymede's day?
Ah, no, Britons, &c.

IX.

Oh, no gallant Britons! there lives in your breast
A spirit too long, and TOO BLINDLY supprest! —
A spark of that flame your brave ancestors knew,
When they won back the land , and gave FREEDOM to you!

And you, gallant Britons, the treasure defending,
Shall yet for your sons the blest legacy save ;
For the moment comes fast, when the die will be cast —
And the banner of Freedom TRIUMPHANTLY wave!
Ah, no, Britons, &c.