Page:England and Spain.pdf/9

    Lo! where her pennons, waving high, aspire,
Bold Victory hovers near, "with eyes of fire!"
While Lusitania hails, with just applause,
The brave defenders of her injured cause;
Bids the full song, the note of triumph rise,
And swells th' exulting pæan to the skies!

    And they, who late with anguish, hard to tell,
Breathed to their cherish'd realms a sad farewell
Who, as the vessel bore them o'er the tide,
Still fondly lingered on its deck, and sigh'd;
Gazed on the shore, till tears obscured their sight,
And the blue distance melted into light—
The Royal exiles, forced by Gallia's hate
To fly for refuge in a foreign state—
They, soon returning o'er tho western main,
Ere long may view their clime beloved again:
And as the blazing pillar led the host
Of faithful Israel o'er the desert coast,
So may Britannia guide the noble band
O'er the wild ocean to their native land.
O glorious isle!—O sovereign of the waves!
Thine are the sons who "never will be slaves!"