Thou Shalt Rise in the Pride of Thy Glory Again. Earth is sick, And heaven is weary of the hollow words Which kings and statesmen utter when they speak Of truth and justice. —. Oh England, my country, arouse thee, arouse, From the slumbers of apathy rouse thee awhile ; Let the laurel of Freedom be girt on thy brows, As of yore with the sons of this sea-beaten isle ; Behold, how the spirit of Liberty spoke, And the bonds of the Tyrant were instantly broke. My country, and is it for thee to be last In the struggle for freedom ?—O, well may it be For the twig to be prostrate beneath the rude blast, But we look for resistance and strength in the tree : The stream in its weakness meanders aside, Bat the river should roll in its splendour and pride. Look back on thy annals, dark spots on thy fame, To Poland ! and Norway, and Saxony too, Genoa, Ragusa, all curse on thy name ; And Parga ! betrayed to the Moslem by you— O shame to thee, England ! in sadness and grief I mournfully glance over history’s leaf. Up, Germany, up ! for the wolf is at hand, And woe to thee now, if thy spirit should quail, Spurn from thee the heartless confederate bond, And pœans of triumph shall swell on the gale ! Shall the many still toil for the few ?—shall it be ? O Germany, dash down the spoilers—be free. Arouse thee, arouse thee, with Gaul by thy side, The day-star of Freedom shall beam on the world, And where will the minions of tyranny hide, When the tri-colourcd banner is proudly unfurl’d ; When the people shall rise in their strength, and shall sever The links of corruption for ever and ever. Then, Poland, for thee, shall the sword be unsheathed, Thy sons from the dungeons of despots set free ; O deep are the feelings, though silently breathed, Of vengeance, stern vengeance, brave Poland for thee ; They have bound thee in darkness and chains, but in vain— Thon shalt rise in the pride of thy glory again. E. C. Collins. Gray’s Inn Road.