Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
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Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
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.
But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
Men of England! who inherit
Rights that cost your sires their blood.
Men of England! who inherit
Rights that cost your sires their blood.
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
