 | Songs and Poems |  |
13
GOOD OLD GEORGE THE THIRD.
I love one living Monarch well,
Yet would I laud the dead;
Would turn me from the diademed,
To wreath a buried head!
And though he pour a feeble song,
Sincere must be the bard,
Who praises hands, that—generous once—
Can now no song reward.
By British feelings, British hopes,
My heart and harp are stirred,
To sing the English-minded King,
The good old George the Third.
Yet would I laud the dead;
Would turn me from the diademed,
To wreath a buried head!
And though he pour a feeble song,
Sincere must be the bard,
Who praises hands, that—generous once—
Can now no song reward.
By British feelings, British hopes,
My heart and harp are stirred,
To sing the English-minded King,
The good old George the Third.
When crafty statesmen would have reft
One jewel from his crown,
The jewel of his Indian reign,
He met them with a frown:
“Old England's crown is on my head,
Her sceptre in my hand,
Take these—if Britons will it; but—
Abridge not my command!”
O'erawed, the traitors turned away,
The Isles delighted heard,
And hailed with one applausive shout
The good old George the Third.
One jewel from his crown,
The jewel of his Indian reign,
He met them with a frown:
“Old England's crown is on my head,
Her sceptre in my hand,
Take these—if Britons will it; but—
Abridge not my command!”
O'erawed, the traitors turned away,
The Isles delighted heard,
And hailed with one applausive shout
The good old George the Third.
The baffled traitors came again,
A deeper scheme to bring,
A scheme to sap our glorious church
By sanction of its King.
“Firmly to stand by England's church
I pledged a Monarch's troth;
And I dare bow me to the block,
But dare not break my oath!”
Each loyal heart in Britain leaped,
Exultant at the word,
And the Isles rung from shore to shore
With—Good old George the Third!
A deeper scheme to bring,
A scheme to sap our glorious church
By sanction of its King.
14
I pledged a Monarch's troth;
And I dare bow me to the block,
But dare not break my oath!”
Each loyal heart in Britain leaped,
Exultant at the word,
And the Isles rung from shore to shore
With—Good old George the Third!
| Songs and Poems | |