No. III.

NOVEMBER 30.

We have received the following from a Loyal Correspondent, and we shall be very happy at any time to be relieved, by Communications of a similar tendency, from the Drudgery of Jacobinical Imitations.

THE INVASION;

OR, THE BRITISH WAR SONG.

TUNE," Whilst happy in my native land.”

I.

WHILST happy in our native land,

So great, so famed in story,

Let's join, my friends, with heart and hand

To guard our country's glory:

When Britain calls, her valiant sons

Will rush in crowds to aid her

Snatch, snatch your muskets, prime your guns,

And crush the fierce invader!

Whilst every Briton's song shall be,

"O give us death-or victory!"

II.

Long had this favour'd isle enjoy'd
True comforts, past expressing,
When France her hellish arts employ'd
To rob us of each blessing:

These from our hearths by force to tear
(Which long we've learn'd to cherish)
Our frantic foes shall vainly dare;
We'll keep 'em, or we'll perish-

And every day our song shall be,

"O give us death-or victory!"

III.

Let France in savage accents sing

Her bloody Revolution;

We prize our Country, love our King,

Adore our Constitution;

For these we'll every danger face,

And quit uor rustic labours;

Our ploughs to firelocks shall give place,

Our scythes be changed to sabres ; And clad in arms, our song shall be, “O give us death—or victory!”

IV.

Soon shall the proud invaders learn,

When bent on blood and plunder, That British bosoms nobly burn

To brave their cannon's thunder: Low lie those heads, whose wily arts Have plann'd the world's undoing! Our vengeful blades shall reach those hearts Which seek our country's ruin;

And night and morn our song shall be,

"O give us death-or victory!"

V.

When, with French blood our fields manured,

The glorious struggle's ended,

We'll sing the dangers we've endured,

The blessings we've defended.

O'er the full bowl our feats we'll tell,

Each gallant deed reciting;

And weep o'er those who nobly fell

Their Country's battle fighting—

And ever thence our song

shall be,

""Tis Valour leads to Victory!"

No. IV.

DECEMBER 4.

We have been favoured with the following Specimen of Jacobin Poetry, which we give to the world without any comment or imitation. We are informed (we know not how truly) that it will be sung at the Meeting of the Friends of Freedom; an account of which is anticipated in our present Paper.

LA SAINTE GUILLOTINE.

A NEW SONG.

ATTEMPTED FROM THE FRENCH.

TUNE, “O'er the vine-cover'd hills and gay regions of France."

I.

FROM the blood-bedew'd vallies and mountains of France,

See the Genius of Gallic invasion advance!

Old Ocean shall waft her, unruffled by storm,

While our shores are all lined with the Friends of Reform.*

*See Proclamation of the Directory.

D

Confiscation and Murder attend in her train,

With meek-eyed Sedition, the daughter of Paine ;*

While her sportive Poissardes, with light footsteps are seen,
To dance in a ring round the gay Guillotine.†

II.

+

To London," the rich, the defenceless," she comes—
Hark! my boys, to the sound of the Jacobin drums !
See Corruption, Prescription, and Privilege fly,
Pierced through by the glance of her blood-darting eye.
While patriots, from prison and prejudice freed,
In soft accents shall lisp the Republican Creed,
And with tri-colour'd fillets, and cravats of green,
Shall crowd round the altar of Saint Guillotine.

III.

See the level of Freedom sweeps over the land

The vile Aristocracy's doom is at hand!

Not a seat shall be left in a House that we know,

But for Earl Buonaparte and Baron Moreau.—

* The "too long calumniated author of the Rights of Man." See a Sir Something Burdet's speech at the Shakspeare, as referred to in the Courier of November 30.

The Guillotine at Arras was, as is well known to every Jacobin, painted "Couleur de Rose."

See Weekly Examiner, No. II. Extract from the Courier.