Firm as our native hills, we'll stand,
And should the lords of Europe land,
We'll meet them on the farthest strand,
We'll conquer o'er we'll die.

Now let the song united rise,
Wide as our realms its spirit flies,
To heroes in the eternal skies,

To Washington in heaven.

18

A SOLDIER'S LIFE.

How blest the life a soldier leads,
From town to country ranging,
For as the halt the march succeeds,
Our toil delights by changing.
Though cannons roar along the field,
And comrades bleed beside us,
Our hearts are like our bayonets steel'd,

These dangers never fright us.

Should fresh troubles come, we'll take sword and

gun,

If the enemy attack, we'll not heed them,

But prime, load, and fire, and charge as they come nigher,

"Twas the way our brother soldiers gained their freedom.

Our country's call we will obey,

"Tis what we take delight in;

Although we're snug at home to day,
To-morrow we may be fighting.

Should foreign troops invade our land,
We'll welcome them on shore, sir;
Americans they can't withstand;

They well knew this before, sir.

m

The drum beats alarms, we appear with our arms, Though the enemy advance we'll not heed them; We'll march till we meet then we'll make them retreat,

'Tis the way we'll support the cause of Freedom.

Returning home with cheerful hearts,

Our friends delighted greet us:
Presenting us with flowing bowls,

The pretty lasses meet us:

Their smiles, my lads, drive off dull care.

And banish every sorrow:

We'll drink, and dance, and laugh and sing,

And take our rest to-morrow.

Then drink round my boys, 'tis the first of our joys, May we have our arms and courage when we need

them,

To prime, load, and fire—so we'll raise our fame still

higher,

And support our Constitution and our freedom.

19

THE SOLDIER'S CALL.

Tune.-The Soldier's Return."

Rouse, rouse, ye brave, ye gallant souls,
Who cherish independence,

That country you so dearly love

Demands your quick attendance;

Injured, insulted, she has been,
By Britain-haughty nation;
Then haste to arms, for honour calls
Aloud for reparation.

Remember your forefathers bold,
For freedom who contended,
Who nobly dear Columbia's cause
With their best blood defended;
O! do not sully their fair fame:
O tarnish not their glories;
Discard the deeds, despise the name
And actions of old tories.

In infant days Columbia bore
The storms of war unmoved,
For a tyrant's wrath and deep designs
More than a match she proved;
O! who can think upon those times,
Nor feel his bosom glowing,
Nor feel sensations, sweet, sublime,
His patriot heart o'erflowing.

And if in infancy she foil'd

The plans of wild ambition, To her united youthful might Vain will be opposition:

In Him who rules the host of heaven, Her hope, her stay, her trust, is, He will with victory crown the cause Of liberty and justice.

Too long has our loved country sought,

By mild negotiation,

To have her rights restored in peace,
For wrongs some compensation.

But patience hitherto has made
Her claims be more neglected,
The last resort then must tried,
She then may be respected.
Though war we never do desire,
We do not dread its terrors;
Columbia's thunders shall once more,
Show kingcraft all its errors.
Her volunteers will rally round
The starry flag of Freedom,
Nor shall Quebec arrest their march,
If heroes only lead them.

Then beat the drum-the trumpet sound,
And let the cannon rattle,
Gird on your swords, your muskets seize,
Be all prepared for battle.

Go forth to conquer or to die,
The cause is good, is glorious,
And sacred Union will ensure,
The final end victorious.

20 THE DEATH OF THE BRAVE.
How glorious the death for our country to die,
When vanquish'd, when fallen are her foes;
On victory's soft bosom the hero shall lie,
And sink in her arms to repose!

Though low in the dust his proud spirit expires,
The dust by his bleeding form press'd;
'Tis glory his soul's last emotion that fires,
And beats the last throb of his breast.

Immortal shall bloom each bright wreath of his fame, "Tis valour's illustrious meed;

Lisping infants shall sigh as they murmur his name,
And learn for their country to bleed.

With tears shall fond beauty his ashes bedew,
And breathe a soft sigh o'er his breast;
Shall seek the first roses his grave to bestrew,
And guard the lone spot of his rest.

Hence, cowards! who wake not to Freedom's loud call!

Hence! seek an inglorious grave!

Those only who dare for their country to fall-
Those only shall sleep with the brave!

21

BATTLE OF BENNINGTON.

REMEMBER the glories of patriots brave,

Though the days of the heroes are o'er;
Long lost to their country and cold in their grave,
They return to their kindred no more.
The stars of the field, which in victory pour'd
Their beams on the battle are set,

But enough of their glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet!

Walloomsack! when nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footsteps of slavery there!