AND shall we then renounce the Flag?                     
Hear this ye British Sailors,
While of the ſluff remains a rag,
'Tis you shall teach the French to brag,
The Devil take the Waiters.

Still may the Flag undaunted ſail,
Though some in Britain haply rail,
And talk of cowing Reason ;
The Gallant sight shall make France Pale,
Who doubts—I ſay 'tis Treaſon.

The Song shall be " my Sons Strike Home,"
Daſh with French Blood the proud ſea-foam,
Resurging from the Billows;
From France to Egypt let them roam,
We'll make the waves their pillows.

See *Britain's Cymon born to brave
All that contend by land or Wave,
Who quell'd † "this Fortune's Minion;"
And Nelson from Aboukir's grave
A Phenix with fresh pinion.

Unfurl the Flag its fulleſt; length,
There Britain owns her heart-springs strength
Expanding with its motion:
While from ‡ "the giddy Top-maſts height,"
'Tis Vict'ry waves her pinions bright;
Be yours, She cries, the Ocean.

O! Freedom, beſt of blessings known,
In Britain still erect thy Throne,
The ſeas and rocks ſurrounding
O Happy Isle thou standst alone,
Her foes and thine confounding.

* Sir Sydney Smith.          † Shakespeare,          ‡ Shakespeare

Printed for J. HATCHARD, 190 Piccadilly.

Price Threepence per Dozen.               J. Hales, Old Boswell Court.