Ah, Tell Them They Are Men!

England, So Long Mistress Of The Sea, Where Winds And Waves Confess Her Sovereignty, Her Ancient Triumphs Yet On High Shall Bear And Reign The Sovereign Of The Conquered Air.

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.

The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow, Chastis'd By Sabler Tints Of Woe.

Ah, Happy Hills! Ah, Pleasing Shade! Ah, Fields Beloved In Vain! Where Once My Careless Childhood Stray'd, A Stranger Yet To Pain! I Feel The Gales That From Ye Blow A Momentary Bliss Bestow.

Each In His Narrow Cell Forever Laid, The Rude Forefathers Of The Hamlet Sleep.