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THE MARINERS OF BRITAIN.
Ye Mariners of Britain,
That guard our natives ſeas,
Whoſe flag has brav’d a thouſand years
the battle and the breeze,
Your glorious Standard launch again,
to match another foe,
And ſweep thro’ the deep,
while the stormy tempests blow.
While the battle rages long and loud.
And the stormy tempests blow.
The ſpirit of your fathers
Shall start from ev’ry wave,
For the deck it was their field of fame,
the ocean was their grave;
Where Blake the boast of freedom fought,
your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep o’er the deep
while the stormy tempests blow.
While the battle rages, &c.
Britannia nseds no bulwark,
no tow’r along the steep;
Her march is o’er the mountain-wave,
