COME ye–who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land
Were with herself at strife, would take your stand,
Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch’s side,
And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride–
Come ye–who, not less zealous, might display
Banners at enmity with regal sway,
And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day,
Think that a State would live in sounder health
If Kingship bowed its head to Commonwealth–
Ye too–whom no discreditable fear
Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear,
Uncertain what to choose and how to steer–
And ye–who might mistake for sober sense
And wise reserve the plea of indolence–
Come ye–whate’er your creed–O waken all,
Whate’er your temper, at your Country’s call;
Resolving (this a free-born Nation can)
To have one Soul, and perish to a man,
Or save this honoured Land from every Lord
But British reason and the British sword.
