Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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ANCIENT BRITONS. |
 | Mirth and Metre |  |
ANCIENT BRITONS.
Your primitive Britons, as patriots none greater,
Unincumber'd with dress, unaccustom'd to fears,
Resolv'd to defend the rights given by nature,
Met each foe that invaded, with clubs, slings, and spears;
They were like swarms of bees, and their spears were their stings,
While to pave way to victory over their foes,
They left no stone unturn'd that would fit in their slings,
And their club law was constantly knock down blows.
No quarrels they sought, nor refus'd what might come,
And their watch-word in battle was, “Britons strike home!”
Unincumber'd with dress, unaccustom'd to fears,
Resolv'd to defend the rights given by nature,
Met each foe that invaded, with clubs, slings, and spears;
They were like swarms of bees, and their spears were their stings,
While to pave way to victory over their foes,
They left no stone unturn'd that would fit in their slings,
And their club law was constantly knock down blows.
No quarrels they sought, nor refus'd what might come,
And their watch-word in battle was, “Britons strike home!”
Tho' Britons, like Catabaws, ne'er threw a hatchet,
With their axes, like woodmen, they lopp'd off the foe;
And as an ill compliment do not attach it,
If I say, none were like them to draw the long bow;
Next, in armour of iron the gauntlet they threw,
Then made every foe run the gauntlet they found;
And whoe'er, when the keen biting broad sword they drew,
Shew'd their teeth, as a foe, were soon made bite the ground.
No quarrel, &c.
With their axes, like woodmen, they lopp'd off the foe;
And as an ill compliment do not attach it,
If I say, none were like them to draw the long bow;
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Then made every foe run the gauntlet they found;
And whoe'er, when the keen biting broad sword they drew,
Shew'd their teeth, as a foe, were soon made bite the ground.
No quarrel, &c.
Their cross-bow-men in ev'ry foes breast found a target,
When gunpowder chang'd the whole method of fight,
With their matchlocks they'd match all you could near or far get,
And to conquest, e'en cannon law prov'd Britain's right.
Let our foes talk then, no living language yet found,
Could intimidate us; so they'd better be mum—
Then for language, this they'll find true classic ground,
For we'll teach them the dead ones as soon as they come.
No quarrels we seek, nor refuse what may come,
And with us, like our fathers, 'tis “Britons strike home!”
When gunpowder chang'd the whole method of fight,
With their matchlocks they'd match all you could near or far get,
And to conquest, e'en cannon law prov'd Britain's right.
Let our foes talk then, no living language yet found,
Could intimidate us; so they'd better be mum—
Then for language, this they'll find true classic ground,
For we'll teach them the dead ones as soon as they come.
No quarrels we seek, nor refuse what may come,
And with us, like our fathers, 'tis “Britons strike home!”
| Mirth and Metre | |