Thomas Campbell

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while read more

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.

Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
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Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
Her home is on the deep.

Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to read more

Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.

Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of read more

Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer in my mind,
But leave,--oh! leave the light of Hope behind!

Cease, every joy, to glimmer in my mind,
But leave,--oh! leave the light of Hope behind!