Classic Poem

Merry England, land of glory
plenty on thee fall
joy dwell on thy castles hoary
gladness in each hall

might be on thy stately towers
beauty in each dell
in thy blossomed vernal bowers
may peace ever dwell

when wars trumpet fierce is sounding
Brit[ain's] lion roars
Oer the mighty waters bounding
to The foes dark shores

When in battle he stands warlike
And his meteor sword
Gleams amid the fight more starlike
Round him blood is poured

Till his mane is red and gory
And his flashing eye
As he springs to future glory
Is of crimson dye

Now when victory hath assuaged him
Of his thirst for blood
'Neath his oak tree he hath laid him
While around the flood

Of the raging mighty ocean
Guards his own fair land
Standing mid the wild commotion
All serene and grand