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Then fare thee well, my mother's bower,

Farewell, my father's hearth;

Perish my home where lawless power

Hath rent the tie of love to native earth.

Perish! let deathlike silence fall

Upon the lone abode :

Spread fast, dark ivy, spread thy pall :—
I go up to the mountains, with my God.

THE ENGLISH BOY.

"Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt They owe their ancestors; and make them swear To pay it, by transmitting down entire

Those sacred rights to which themselves were born."

AKENSIDE.

Look from the ancient mountains down,

My noble English Boy!

Thy country's fields around thee gleam

In sunlight and in joy.

Ages have roll'd since foeman's march
Pass'd o'er that old firm sod ;

For well the land hath fealty held

To Freedom and to God!

Gaze proudly on, my English Boy!

And let thy kindling mind

Drink in the spirit of high thought

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There, in the shadow of old Time,

The halls beneath thee lie,

Which pour'd forth to the fields of yore,
Our England's chivalry.

How bravely and how solemnly

They stand, 'midst oak and yew!

Whence Cressy's yeomen haply framed

The bow, in battle true.

And round their walls the good swords hang

Whose faith knew no alloy,

And shields of knighthood, pure from stain

Gaze on, my English Boy!

Gaze where the hamlet's ivied church

Gleams by the antique elm,

Or where the minster lifts the cross

High through the air's blue realm.

Martyrs have shower'd their free hearts' blood, That England's prayer might rise,

From those fanes of thoughtful years,

grey

Unfetter'd, to the skies.

Along their aisles, beneath their trees,
This earth's most glorious dust,
Once fired with valour, wisdom, song,

Is laid in holy trust.

Gaze on-gaze farther, farther yet

My gallant English Boy!

Yon blue sea bears thy country's flag,

The billows' pride and joy!

B

Those waves in many a fight have closed

Above her faithful dead;

That red-cross flag victoriously

Hath floated o'er their bed.

They perish'd-this green turf to keep By hostile tread unstained;

These knightly halls inviolate,

Those churches unprofaned.

And high and clear, their memory's light

Along our shore is set,

And many an answering beacon-fire

Shall there be kindled yet!

Lift up thy heart, my English Boy!

And pray, like them to stand,

Should God so summon thee, to guard

The altars of the land.

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