It may be worth while, seeing the ballads are hopelessly out of print, if I here transcribe a few stanzas from divers other staves I penned in the early days of Rifledom. First, from "Rise, Britannia," before mentioned, which was "written and printed in 1846, and then headed, by a strange anticipation, a stirring song for patriots in the year 1860:" reproduced in my now extinct "Cithara," in 1863: I wrote it to be sung to the tune of "Wha wouldna fecht for Charlie:" even as afterwards I adapted my "In days long ago when old England was young" to "The roast-beef of old England," published with my own illustration by Cocks & Co.:--
"Rise! ye gallant youth of Britain, Gather to your country's call, On your hearts her name is written, Rise to help her, one and all! Cast away each feud and faction, Brood not over wrong nor ill, Rouse your virtues into action, For we love our country still, Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia! Raise that thrilling shout once more, Rise, Britannia! rule, Britannia! Conqueror over sea and shore!"
After three stanzas which I will omit, the last is
"Rise then, patriots I name endearing,-- Flock from Scotland's moors and dales, From the green glad fields of Erin, From the mountain homes of Wales,-- Rise! for sister England calls you, Rise! our commonweal to serve, Rise! while now the song enthrals you Thrilling every vein and nerve,-- Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia! Conquer, as thou didst of yore; Rise, Britannia! rule, Britannia! Over every sea and shore!"
Another noted alarum, sounded in January 1852, commences thus:--
"Englishmen, up! make ready your rifles! Who can tell now what a day may bring forth? Patch up all quarrels, and stick at no trifles,-- Let the world see what your loyalty's worth! Loyalty?--selfishness, cowardice, terror Stoutly will multiply loyalty's sum, When to astonish presumption and error Soon the shout rises--the brigands are come!"
After four stanzas of happily unfulfilled prognostication, the last is--
"Up then and arm! it is wisdom and duty; We are too tempting a prize to be weak: Lo, what a pillage of riches and beauty, Glories to gain and revenges to wreak! Run for your rifles, and stand to your drilling; Let not the wolf have his will, as he might, If in the midst of their trading and tilling Englishmen cannot--or care not to--fight!"