THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 4^^ 
 
 1/
 
 ^-PROTESTANT BALLADS,
 
 PROTESTANT 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 nr 
 
 THE EEV. JAMES A. PAGE. B.A. 
 
 . '.-^ ^>»fCUMBENT OF TINTWISTLE, CHESHIRE. 
 
 '• Hearts resolved, and hands prepared, 
 The blessings they enjoy to guard." 
 
 LOx\ i) O N: 
 
 WHITTAKER & CO., AVE .M A K I A I. AXE. 
 
 EDINBURGH: .JOHNSTONE & HUNTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER: J. GALT & CO., DUCIE STREET, EXCHANGE. 
 
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 BERESFOKD AND GALT, PRINTBRS, CROSS STREET, MANCHESTER.
 
 P7? 
 
 f 
 
 THAT GREAT CHAMPION OF PROTESTANTISM. 
 
 REV. HUGH M'NEILE, D.D. 
 
 CANON OF CHESTER, 
 
 WITH FEELINGS OF THE DEEPEST RESPECT FOE HIS 
 '\.,-- "- UNCOMPROMISING ZEAL, 
 
 A^CD -<^F .CHRISTIAN AFFECTION FOR SPIRITUAL BENEFIT 
 DERIVED FROM HIS PULPIT MINISTRATIONS, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS, WITH PERMISSION, DEDICATED, 
 
 By 
 
 HIS FELLOW-LABOURER IN THE GOSPEL 
 
 OF 
 
 OUR COMMON LORD AND MASTER. 
 
 853856
 
 PREFACE 
 
 lN/siii)i]iittmg tlie following "Ballads" to 
 his* readers, tlie author begs them to re- 
 member that he is more ambitious of being- 
 considered a good Protestant, than a good 
 Poet ; and if only the object, he has had in 
 view in his present production, be in any 
 degree attained, he is content to bear the 
 Critic's lash, however heartily applied — his 
 sole design being to aid in stirring up, and 
 keeping alive, that flame of Protestant feel- 
 ing, which is so valuable, in these days of 
 half-hear tedness and lukewarmness in the 
 cause of Truth,
 
 A-IU. PREFACE. 
 
 He sympatliises with the sentiment of one 
 of our greatest men, who has said — 
 
 " Let me make the ballads of a nation, and I care not 
 who makes the laws ;" 
 
 and he heartily trusts that the " Ballads" 
 he now puts forth may, in some small degree 
 at least, attest the philosophy of such a re- 
 mark. 
 
 He is utterly callous to all criticism as to 
 poetic merit. When the trumpet sounds the 
 battle-note, few care to criticise its tone ; 
 and he trusts that his little volume may be 
 regarded as a trumpet giving no " uncertain 
 sound," however harsh or inharmonious it 
 may be. He sends forth, then, his '^ Pro- 
 testant Ballads" with the hope and prayer 
 that they may be made instrumental in the 
 defence of that Trutli — the maintaining of 
 those principles — and the preservation of 
 those privileges — for which his martyred 
 forefathers bore theii- testimony, and shed 
 their blood.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Preface vii. 
 
 Who^is on the Lord's side? Who? 1 
 
 The BiU of Twenty-nme 4 
 
 The'Bwiard- of the Sph-it 7 
 
 The Martyi'S of Old 10 
 
 The Siege of Derry 13 
 
 Do what you can 10 
 
 St. Bartholomew's Day 22 
 
 Watch ye !— Stand Fast in the Faitli ! 26 
 
 The Prophecy 28 
 
 Ye Protestants of England 31 
 
 The One Oblation 33 
 
 Song of the Irish Converts 36 
 
 Protestants, Awake! 38 
 
 We will not have them 42 
 
 Let them alone 44 
 
 Gunpowder Plot 1 ~
 
 X. CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Begone ! 49 
 
 The Days of Old 52 
 
 The Bible— The Bible alone ! 55 
 
 What is a Protestant ? 6l 
 
 The Song of a True One 62 
 
 One or the Other 66 
 
 Britain's Bible 68 
 
 The Men of Mary's Days 71 
 
 Protestant Voters 75 
 
 The Horse and his Rider 77 
 
 TheGrant to Maynooth , 80 
 
 The Trial of the Seven Bishops 83 
 
 Let them Go 86 
 
 A Dirge for the Irish Massacre 89 
 
 Jerome's Last Words 92 
 
 The Land is Awake 95 
 
 Protestant Aggression 98 
 
 Curse ye Meroz 101 
 
 The Battle of the Boyne 104 
 
 A Word of Waking 106 
 
 A Protestant Welcome 109 
 
 I have Fought a Good Fight 112 
 
 The Woman Drunken with Blood 115 
 
 Magna Charta 118 
 
 The Glorious Reformation...,...., 12J
 
 CONTENTS. XI. 
 
 .^ 
 
 Page 
 Cometjut of Her, my People 124 
 
 Old Erin is Waking 127 
 
 Let it go Free 131 
 
 The Fate of Babylon 134 
 
 Old England, my Country 137 
 
 The Truth' 140 
 
 Rome ward. Ho ! 142 
 
 England's Voice to England's Queen 145 
 
 The Bible Society's Plea 148 
 
 Let np man deceive you 150 
 
 Protestan^ A^iance 153 
 
 A. Protestant's Prayer 155 
 
 Appendix '. j, clvii.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 WHO IS ON THE LOED'S SIDE? WHO? 
 
 Who is on the Lord's side ? — Wlio ? 
 
 Who is eager for the fray, 
 Eeady both to dare and do, 
 
 When the battle's in array ? 
 
 Eome is marching on her hosts, — 
 Britain ! answer to the call ; 
 
 Send thy warriors to their posts. 
 Place thy watchmen on the wall.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Rome is tliund'ring at thy gates — 
 Burst tliem wide upon the foe ! 
 
 Christendom the charge awaits, 
 Eeady to repeat the blow. 
 
 Who is on the Lord's side ? — Who ? 
 
 Let him come and sally forth, 
 Shew that saints are soldiers too, 
 
 Men of war as well as worth. 
 
 " Eome shall perish ! — write that word 
 In the blood, that she lias spilt ; 
 
 Perish hopeless, as abhorred, 
 Deep in ruin, as in guilt !" 
 
 So the Christian bard has sung ; 
 
 So the Christian warrior sings ; 
 As. the harp the bow is strung, 
 
 Shafts as songs desert the strings.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Who is on tlie Lord's side ? — ^Vho ? 
 
 Let him take the Poet's word, 
 Take the warrior's weapon too, 
 
 In the battle of the Lord. 
 
 Soon the vict'ry shall be won ; 
 
 Soon the crown for soldiers true ; 
 When shall speak the Monarch's Son, 
 
 "^'AVho is on the Lord's side ? — Who ?' 
 
 " Well done good and faithful heart !' 
 From the voice of welcome tone, 
 
 *' Take thy portion and thy part. 
 In my kingdom— on my throne !"
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE BILL OF TWENTY-NINE. 
 
 A WORD TO THE PRIME MINISTER OF ENGLAND, 
 
 Eepeal tlie Bill of Twenty-nine ! 
 
 Disgrace of Britisli laws — 
 Impound again tlie Popisli kine, 
 
 For " is tliere not a cause?" 
 They've had their fi-eedom — but to shew 
 
 How well it can agree 
 With Romish hands to strike the blow 
 
 At those, who made them free. 
 
 The fatal Bill of Twenty-nine 
 
 Beheld the tiger caged, 
 And wept to see a brute so fine 
 
 By bolt and bai' engaged ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 ^' It will not prowl — it will not prey, 
 
 Its nature is subdued ; 
 Take bar and bolt, and all away, 
 
 And see its gratitude !" 
 
 The idiot Bill of Twenty-nine ! — 
 
 It took them all away. 
 And found the brute, so sleek and fine. 
 Yet- eager for the prey : 
 /No, spjaner from the cage released, 
 "Than nature gave its sign ; 
 'Twas but a signal for the beast — 
 The Bill of Twenty-nine ! 
 
 The deadly Bill of Twenty -nine ! — 
 
 Ah, well-a-day, the deed ! — 
 My Christian brother ! yours and mine 
 
 May be the hearts to bleed. 
 The Popish tiger hunts her food. 
 
 And seeks her foes the first ; 
 For draughts of anti-Papal blood 
 
 Are welcome to her thirst.
 
 6 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 But shall the Bill of Twenty-nine 
 
 Eemain a British law ? — 
 Or shall our senators combine 
 
 To gag the tiger's maw? — 
 Aye, by our faith ! we'll have our turn •, 
 
 We'll raise the martyi's' shrine 
 Where Smithfield blazed, and there we'll 
 burn 
 
 The Bill of Twenty-nine.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 ' -^ -^--' The Sword of the Spirit," 
 " "■ - The Word of the Lord, 
 
 Its might and its merit 
 Let seraphs record, 
 As they charait thro' the temple of glory ; 
 
 Bat the cherubim's song. 
 
 Rolling heaven along, 
 Has a theme from terrestrial story ! 
 
 The happy and holy. 
 
 The angels of light. 
 Have never known folly. 
 
 To need its might,
 
 8 PKOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Or to yield in tlie battle before it ; 
 But the cliildren of clay, 
 They have owned its sway, 
 
 And they felt it, or ever they wore it. 
 
 " The Sword of the Spirit"— 
 
 Proclaim its praise, 
 Its might and its merit 
 In ancient days, 
 When it fought for Immanuel's honour : 
 When it followed, and fell 
 On the "Harlot" of hell. 
 And vented its vengeance upon her. 
 
 The warriors that wielded 
 
 Were valiant men, 
 And Satan yielded 
 Again and again. 
 While the Word of the Lord grew stronger 
 And ages have passed. 
 But its vigour will last 
 Till the faithful shall need it no longer.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 9 
 
 ^ Let Infidels spurn it 
 
 In rational pride ; 
 Let Popery bum it, 
 And folly deride ; 
 Unscatlied, like a meteor, it flashes *, 
 For tlie spurning but tries, 
 And tlie flame it defies, 
 As the Phoenix, revived from its ashes. 
 
 < ..^ ^JThen take up the story, 
 * - ' ' That seraphs recite, 
 And tell of its glory, 
 Its merit, and might. 
 And aloft, as ye sing, be it wielded ; 
 Till the foes of the Lord, 
 To the power of His Word, 
 Both their hearts and their armour have 
 
 yielded.
 
 10 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE MARTYRS OF OLD. 
 
 Oh, the martyrs of old ! tliey were men of 
 
 grace, 
 
 And tliey left us a noble story, 
 In earth's fairest annals to find tliem a place, 
 Till they shine on the page of glory T"' 
 
 Oh ! they were not the men of a cowardly 
 mind, 
 At a tyrant's beck to bend them ; 
 For they knew that no fetters of earth could 
 bind 
 The spirit their God would send them. 
 
 Aye ! unfettered, their souls sprang aloof 
 from the chain, 
 That the darkness had twined around them; 
 
 * Eev. XX. 12, 15.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. H 
 
 Anc). tliev died, ere they'd enter tlie prison 
 again, 
 ^Miere the grace of their God had found 
 them. 
 
 For "the faith once delivered" they bran- 
 dished the sword,! 
 
 Like a true-hearted legion of honour ; 
 For when Rome lit her faggots, they drew 
 
 "..-' ^forth'^ the Word," 
 
 < — If' ^y 
 
 :^ik1 they dealt its destruction upon her ! 
 
 And they fought to the last — aye ! they con- 
 quered in death. 
 As their Leader, who suffered before them ; 
 And the flame that encircled, consuming their 
 breath, 
 Waved a banner of victory o'er them. 
 
 And they went to their rest ; but the mantle 
 that fell 
 From their chariot of fire, that ascended, 
 
 t Eph. vi. 17.
 
 12 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Was the funeral -pall for " the offspring of 
 hell," 
 By the stake and the faggot defended. 
 
 Oh, then, for the soul of the martyrs of old. 
 To spread out the banner they wove us ! 
 
 For the Tyrant of Eome is reviving and bold, 
 And would fain wave his trophies above 
 us. 
 
 Up, up from your lethargy, Protestant men ! 
 
 Nor abandon the rights, they have won us ; 
 Draw " the Sword of the Spirit" again and 
 again, 
 
 For the martyrs are looking upon us. 
 
 And the martyrs of old, they were men of 
 
 grace. 
 And they've left us a noble story 
 
 In earth's fairest annals to find them a place, 
 
 Till they shine on the page of glory.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 13 
 
 . THE SEIGE OF DEEEY 
 
 STRiNG,higli the liai'p, old Erin's liarp, 
 *^ That ever thrills to noble story : 
 iie"st thee, good bard, by Deny's scarp, 
 And sing the song of Derry's glory ! — 
 
 With ready hand he took the lyre, 
 
 And strung it high for deeds of wonder ; 
 
 Glowed all his frame with patriot fire. 
 As thus he sang the old walls under : 
 
 " They have s wanned from the south, 
 They have poured from the west, 
 
 They have banded together 
 Their bravest and best ;
 
 14 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 And tliey vow by tlie Virgin, 
 
 By Peter, and Paul, 
 That our own little Deny 
 
 ]\Iust open or fall. 
 
 " But tlie hearts of our Derry 
 
 Are faithful and brave. 
 And they've hands that can only 
 
 Be chained by the grave ; 
 And they vow by their children. 
 
 Their wives, and their all, 
 That our own little Derry 
 
 Shall conquer or fall. 
 
 " And they've been on their knees. 
 
 To the Lord of the host, 
 They have ranged every man 
 
 At his perilous post ; 
 And they answer the foe, 
 
 Like a storm from afar. 
 With ' William for ever !' 
 
 And ' Derry -go-bragh !'
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 15 
 
 .^ '' Then tlie tyrant comes on, 
 
 With his thousands of men ; 
 And his cannon-roar rattles 
 
 Again and again ; 
 But as loud is the cry 
 
 From the rampart afar, 
 Of ' William for ever !' 
 
 And ' Derry-go-bragh !' 
 - o "— o o * * 
 
 /- 'ii;^AiKl the cold snow has rusted 
 ' '" Their annour till now, 
 And the summer sun's glory 
 
 Bescorches their brow ; 
 And fainter and feebler, 
 
 The battle-cries are, 
 ' King William for ever !' 
 
 And ' Derry-go-bragh !' 
 
 " But the pale fomi of Famine 
 
 Each true man appals. 
 And she beckons full many 
 
 Away from the walls :
 
 16 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Yet faithful, tliougli failing, 
 
 The echoes still are, 
 ' King William for ever !' 
 
 And ' Derry-go-bragh I' 
 
 " And many a brave one 
 
 Has yielded his breath, 
 And many a fair one 
 
 Has gone to her death ; 
 But they fight for their king, 
 
 While they wait for their doom, 
 Till the walls of their town 
 
 Are the walls of their tomb. 
 
 " But hurrah ! — there's a sail 
 
 On the waves of the Foyle, 
 And hurrah ! — there is aid 
 
 For the patriot's toil : 
 There is food ! There is food ! 
 
 And the tyrant will see 
 What a giant of might 
 
 Little Derry can be.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 17 
 
 )'• And tlie tyrant was told 
 
 "W^iat that vessel had braved, 
 And he knew that our city 
 
 Was succoured and saved. 
 So he led off his men, 
 
 In their honours so fine, 
 To receive their reward 
 
 On the banks of the Boyne ! 
 
 *'T3ii, Derry, mavoumeen 
 A. 
 
 ^ I 
 
 ^ • ~\May Protestant men 
 Be as valorous now, 
 
 As their fathers were then ; 
 May they shew, by their deeds. 
 
 Of what spirit they are. 
 Like the good men and true — 
 
 Crying ' Derry-go-bragh !' " 
 
 He ceased ! the bard his lyre unstrung, 
 And tore its thrilling cords in twain ; 
 
 His harp by Derry' s waters hung. 
 Nor thought to sing the like again.
 
 18 TROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 But let the Papist ever dare 
 
 To siege our holy faith — he will, 
 
 He'll take the harp that moulders there, 
 And rouse its ancient echoes still. 
 
 For valiant deeds again shall be, 
 A theme as noble for his story — 
 
 As vain all Popish tyranny 
 
 To bind our souls or dim our glory. 
 
 I
 
 PROTESTAXT BALLADS. 19 
 
 DO WHAT YOU CAN ! 
 
 A WORD TO WORKING MEN. 
 
 ^*^[|pojiJt:, Protestant workmen ! 
 ^ ■'- A word to your hearts : 
 We must have you arousing 
 And playing your parts ; 
 In the battle of truth 
 
 You must come to the van, 
 You must brace on your armour, 
 And do what you can. 
 
 You have heads, to indite, 
 You have fingers, can write, 
 
 And your weapons, though rude. 
 Will im])rove in the fight :
 
 20 TROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Let your sword be " tlie Truth" — 
 Though its polish they scan, 
 They will shrink from its fall, 
 When you do what you can. 
 
 You have ears, that have heard 
 
 Of the '' Jezebel's" guilt; 
 You have hearts, that can feel 
 
 For the blood she has spilt ; 
 And your ears and your hearts 
 
 Will inspire you a plan, 
 And you'll put it in practice 
 
 To do what you can. 
 
 You've vour Bible at hand. 
 
 And your neighbour is near ; 
 You can open the one 
 
 Where the other may hear : 
 And blessed the work,"' 
 
 'Spite of Popery's ban — 
 For Jehovah will bless, 
 
 When you do what you can. 
 
 * Rev. i. 3.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 21 
 
 You have tongues, tliat can tell 
 
 What tlie " Harlot" has done 
 To the " martyrs of old," 
 
 Who have suffered and gone ; 
 Till our Protestant spirits 
 
 Arise to a man, 
 And vow by their mem'ry, 
 
 To do what they can ! 
 
 /^.TJieji, ye workmen, who boast 
 " ■ ~" Of a Protestant name, 
 Let your Protestant doings 
 
 Your nature proclaim : 
 In the battle of truth. 
 
 Let us see in the van 
 Ten thousand men ready 
 To do what they can !
 
 22 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY 
 
 CoLIGNY ! Coligiiy ! 
 
 The doom is decreed, 
 Of thirty full thousands 
 
 The foremost to bleed ; 
 For the last to retreat 
 
 From the struggle of faith, 
 Shall be first in the ranks 
 
 At the triumph of death. 
 
 Aye ! they slay the old man — 
 They are deaf to his prayers, 
 
 And the heart-blood is creeping 
 To clot his grey hairs ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 23 
 
 While the soul of the martyr 
 
 Is mounting away, 
 To herald the news 
 
 Of Bartholomew's day. 
 
 Then the slaughter begins 
 
 Of that hideous night, 
 And fiends turn away 
 From the horrible si2:ht : 
 ^''"While the bell of St. Germain's 
 " • r- Is clanging amain, 
 
 Till its echoes are drowned 
 In the groans of the slain. 
 
 And oh, for humanity ! — 
 
 Where is she gone, 
 AVhile the red steel is wielded 
 
 From father to son ; 
 While tlie blade, in the blood 
 
 Of the husband bedyed. 
 Is finding a sheath 
 
 In the heart of his bride !
 
 2-1 PEOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 And tlie innocent babe, 
 
 That awakes from its rest, 
 Is poisoned to feed 
 
 Of its dead mother's breast ; 
 For it drinks of the fountain. 
 
 That flowed with its food, 
 And the mother's red bosom 
 
 Is welling with blood ! 
 
 Oh ! for thirty long days 
 
 Goes the massacre on. 
 Till thirty full thousands 
 
 Are slaughtered and gone ; 
 Till the swords are all rust. 
 
 And their edge worn away. 
 With the work they have done 
 
 Since Bartholomew's day. 
 
 Then the tale comes to Rome,— 
 And the Pope, in his glee. 
 
 Proclaims for the slaughter 
 A grand jubilee ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 25 
 
 ■ And " We praise Thee, God," 
 Is the anthem they play, 
 Giving vent to their joy 
 For Bartholomew's day. 
 
 And in mighty procession 
 
 They're marching along, 
 And the cannon-roar heightens 
 Their jubilee song. 
 *^"Ancl there's ioy in the citv, 
 "''■-- And joy in the plain, 
 For thirty full thousands 
 Of Protestants slain. 
 
 Oh, Eome ! — It is done — 
 
 And the souls of the dead 
 Cry aloud from the altar 
 
 For wrath to be shed ; 
 While the lips of the living 
 
 Are learning to pray 
 That the Lord will avenge 
 
 St. Bartholomew's day !
 
 26 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 WATCH YE!— STAND FAST IN THE 
 
 FAITH ! 
 
 Wiitch ye^stand fast in tlie faith— quit you like men— be strong." 
 
 1 Cor. svi. 13. 
 
 Watch ye ! stand fast in the faith — 
 Quit you like men and be strong ! 
 
 Bold in the struggle, and firm to the death- 
 Waiting the conqueror's song. 
 
 '' Watch ye !" — The sword of the foe 
 Waits for the moment of sleep — 
 
 Be on your guard, ere the fall of the blow- 
 Wake you — but only to weep. 
 
 " Fast in the faith" — stand aloof 
 
 From the wile, the device, and the snare ; 
 
 Clad in the armour of heav'nly proof, 
 Eush to the front of the war !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 27 
 
 '' Quit you like men" at the post, 
 Wielding the two-edged sword ; 
 
 Fighting the battle that cannot be lost ; 
 Hurling the shafts of the Word. 
 
 '' Strong" in the power of His might, 
 
 Wait for the day of renown ; 
 Then, only then, the reward of the fight — 
 
 Changing the cross for the crown. 
 
 Changing the shield for the lyre, 
 
 Taking the palm for the sword. 
 Leaving your arms for the victor's attire. 
 
 And the fight for the face of the Lord.
 
 28 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE PEOPHECY. 
 
 " All being prepared, a lighted faggot was brought and laid at Ridley 'y 
 feet. Latimer then turned and addressed his fellow-snfferer in these memorable 
 and emphatic words : ' Be of good comfort. Master Eidley, and play the man : 
 we shall this day light such a fire in England as, by God's grace, shall never be 
 put out !' " — History of England. 
 
 They stand amid the blazing pile, 
 
 Those bold and gallant men ; 
 They point each others faith the while, 
 Beyond all hmnan ken ; 
 Their spirits, mounting on the flame, 
 That scorches but the mortal frame, 
 To seek the bosom, whence they came. 
 And be with God again ! 
 
 " Good comfort, Master Eidley, take," 
 
 Hugh Latimer began, 
 " Another fire to-day we make. 
 
 My brother, play the man !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 29 
 
 Aijotlier fire, whose rapid glow 
 Shall traverse England to and fro, 
 And let the proud usurper know, 
 That grace is in its van ! 
 
 " Through grace it shall not be put out 
 
 By Bishop, Priest, or Pope, 
 The flame, that wreathes our limbs about,. 
 Shall bum the tyrant's hope ! 
 Pfophetic words ! — The old man turned, 
 He bent his body to be burned. 
 And by his word good Eidley learned 
 With martyrdom to cope. 
 
 Prophetic words ! — Let History tell. 
 
 Let grateful Britain own. 
 And Popery curse with book and bell 
 The name of England's son : 
 His valiant words have not been lost — 
 On faithful hearts and hands embossed, 
 They've told the Harlot, to her cost. 
 What Latimer has done.
 
 30 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 And by the mem'iy of the dead, 
 
 We keep alive the flame — 
 As fuel round the despot's head 
 Shall be the martyr's fame : 
 We'll fan the fire with song and shout, 
 We'll bear its blazing brands about. 
 Till Rome is stripp'd of every clout. 
 And hides her head for shame !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 31 
 
 YE PEOTESTANTS OF ENGLAND! 
 
 AN OLD SONG SLIGHTLY ALTERED. 
 
 " AlE, — " Ye Marinei-s of England." 
 
 Ye Protestants of England ! 
 
 NoJonger sit at ease, — 
 ' -Tlie^battle-cry of Tnitli and Eight 
 - r- Is rnsliing on the breeze — 
 Your glorious standard lift again 
 
 To meet the ancient foe, 
 Nor keep to your sleep, 
 
 While the stonny tempests blow ; 
 While the battle rages loud and long, 
 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 The spirits of your fathers, 
 Tlie blessed and the brave, — 
 
 Arc starting from the sacred earth. 
 That glories in their grave :
 
 32 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Where Latimer and Eidley fell 
 Your manly hearts shall glow, 
 
 Nor keep to their sleep, 
 
 While the stormy tempests blow ; 
 
 While the battle rages loud and long 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 Britannia needs no bulwark, 
 
 Her sons their freedom keep ; 
 Her truth is like the ocean waves, 
 
 That roll around her steep ; 
 With thunders from her hearts of oak, 
 
 She quells the floods below — 
 As they roar on the shore. 
 
 When the stormy tempests blow ; 
 When the battle rages loud and long, 
 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 The meteor-flag of England 
 
 Shall yet terrific burn ; 
 Till danger's troubled night depart, 
 
 And the star of peace return.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 33 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 ^Then, then, ye faithful warriors, 
 Our praise shall rise and flow. 
 
 To the fame of your name 
 
 When the storm has ceased to blow. 
 
 When the fiery fight is heard no more, 
 And the storm has ceased to blow ! 
 
 /•- ■ 
 
 THE ONE OBLATION, ONCE OFFERED. 
 
 " Who made then, by his one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect, 
 and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world.'' 
 
 Communion Service. 
 
 " Once offered" — and offered for all, 
 I look to the Lamb that was slain. 
 
 Oblation appointed the curse to recal, 
 And buy back my glory again.
 
 34 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 " Once offered" — a ransom complete, 
 
 From sorrow, from sin, and from shame ; 
 
 He piirchas'd my crown, to be laid at his feet. 
 And my harp, to be strung to his name. 
 
 Then what can your masses avail, 
 Your wafer-gods do for my soul ? 
 
 Since Jesus has died — and His blood cannot 
 fail. 
 In cleansing and making me whole. 
 
 Oh ! tell me not, fondly deceived. 
 
 Of your " prayers for the souls of the 
 dead ;" 
 I'm alive, and for ever, since first I believed. 
 
 You may offer your praises instead. 
 
 Let others abandon their faith. 
 
 For the follies that Rome may supply, 
 
 I live on the truth, that will serve me in death. 
 And believing, I never can die.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 35 
 
 No mass sliall be offered for me, 
 Since Jesus lias suffered — is slain ; 
 
 And who would the blasphemous regicide be 
 To crucify Jesus again ? — 
 
 No mass shall be sung for my soul, 
 
 When this earth has returned to its rest ; 
 For beyond where the stars of the firmament 
 roll, 
 ^ 'T^^itl"be joining the song of the blest. 
 
 Then away with your follies ! — away 
 With your masses, for sin to atone ! 
 
 My soul and its sin I'm contented to lay 
 On Jesus — and Jesus alone !
 
 36 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 SONG OF THE IRISH CONVERTS. 
 
 We have come — we liave come — from tlie 
 rocky west, 
 Where ocean's waves are breaking, 
 Like a frighted sea-bird longing rest, 
 The threat' ning main forsaking : 
 For to land he flies, 
 Ere the storm arise 
 To rock his wat'ry pillow ; 
 
 When he hears the note 
 Of the winds afloat, 
 Like a groan from the distant billow. 
 
 We have heard the note of the coming blast, 
 From Jehovah's anger swelling ; 
 
 We have marked the blue skies overcast, 
 Of gath'ring tempest telling:
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 37 
 
 And we come — we come 
 
 From the sea of doom, 
 To the Safety-Eock of ages ; 
 
 Ere Babylon's crew 
 
 Shall the waves bestrew, 
 When the great destruction rages. 
 
 We have bm-st the meshes that Rome had twin'd, 
 
 Like a ^serpent's coils, around us 5 
 We' hWe jiast her shackles to the wind, 
 That sings of fi-eedom round us ; 
 And our souls are free 
 As the echoing sea. 
 Old Erin's shores surroundino- • 
 
 O 7 
 
 While our hearts rejoice 
 At the silvery voice 
 Of the Gospel trumpet sounding. 
 
 Oh ! Spirit of life, and light, and love. 
 
 Thy branded truth revealing, 
 To sin-smote hearts — Celestial Dove ! 
 
 Descend on wings of healing :
 
 38 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Let our fatlierland, 
 From strand to strand, 
 
 Still learn Redemption's story ; 
 Till her sons shall be 
 All great and free, 
 
 And candidates for glory ! 
 
 PROTESTANTS, AWAKE ! 
 
 Protestant Fathers, — awake ! 
 
 You have slumber' d too long and securely^ 
 Ere the thunder-cloud over your spirit shall 
 break. 
 
 That is rising, though slowly, yet surely.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 39 
 
 Walye ! — ere you waken in vain, 
 
 AVlien your hearths and your homes are 
 invaded, 
 When your sons and your daughters are fast 
 in the chain — 
 Ere they bow them to Rome — be per- 
 suaded ! 
 
 Protestant- Mothers, — awake ! 
 
 Tliej^ejire " wolves" looking into your fold. 
 And >' the lambs of your flock" for a booty 
 will take — 
 They are waiting the time to lay hold. 
 Oh ! the children that play by your knee, 
 Of their martyr'd forefathers be telling. 
 Till a spirit is roused, that would dare to be 
 free. 
 Though a Pope should come into your 
 dwelling. 
 
 Protestant Husbands, — awake ! 
 
 It is time you should watch and beware,
 
 40 
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 For the wives of your bosom your homes 
 may forsake, 
 Should they fall in the Jesuit snare. 
 It has been — it may be again ; 
 
 Tis too late, when 'tis done, to repent it ; 
 Teach your partners " the truth," like true 
 Protestant men. 
 And so do your parts to prevent it. 
 
 Protestant wives, — be awake ! 
 
 Why not urge on your husbands to glory ? 
 You must move them the " sword of the 
 Spirit" to take, 
 
 And be famous in Protestant story ! 
 Cheer them 'mid trial and scorn, 
 
 Endur'd when the faith is defended ; 
 Bid them look through the night to millenial 
 morn, 
 
 AVhen Antichrist's day shall be ended. 
 
 Protestant Pastors, — awake ! 
 
 You are "watchmen of Zion" — you know it!
 
 TROTESTANT BALLADS. 41 
 
 Would je " her beautiful garments" she'd 
 take ? — 
 Will ye her gloiy ? — then shew it ! 
 Take up, and publish " the Word," 
 
 Where the Harlot of Babylon brands it, 
 And call out, " A people prepared for the 
 Loed" 
 
 Dare to do it ! — Jehovah commands it ! 
 
 ~* ' 
 
 Protestants, all, — be awake ! 
 'Vo'ung and old — rich and poor — to your 
 duty ! 
 Oh ! never the cause of your Master forsake, 
 Till the King shall appear " in His beauty." 
 Then shall the warfare be done ; 
 
 Until then you must up and be doing ; 
 Though you fail you must fight till the battle 
 be won. 
 And, though faint, you must still be pur- 
 suing !
 
 42 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 WE WILL NOT HAVE THEM ! 
 
 WRITTEN ON FIRST HEARING OF THE APPOINTMENT OF A 
 POPISH HIERARCHY. 
 
 " AVe will not have them !" — No ! by all 
 
 The martyr-blood, that Eome hath shed, 
 Our freedom's flag shall never fall 
 
 Beneath a foreign despot's tread ! 
 " We will not have them !" — 'Tis tlie cry 
 
 From cottage hearth, and palace dome ; 
 " We will not have them !" — Let it fly 
 
 A death-knell to the walls of Rome ! 
 
 Speak out, speak out, ye hearts of faith ! 
 
 And let your firm resolve be known ; 
 Your weapon brandish from its sheath. 
 
 And shew the " Spirit's sword" your own !
 
 PEOTESTANT BALLADS. 43 
 
 An^ as ye Avield the " two-eclg'cl" blade, 
 " We will not have them !" be your cry, 
 
 " Nor, cowards, see tlie triitli betrayed, 
 " For wliicli our Fathers dared to die !" 
 
 Where is the spirit of the past ? — 
 
 Wliere is the blood that coursed their veins '? 
 The breath, that blew the battle-blast, 
 
 When 'Rome display'd her galling chains ? 
 ThK§piiit-of the past awakes — 
 
 The blood of martyrs flows amain — 
 Again the breath of freedom speaks, 
 
 For Rome has called for war again ! 
 
 Yes ! and it tells the Triple Crown, 
 
 That dares our British rights invade. 
 How England's Church, and England's Throne 
 
 Maintain the conquests they have made ! 
 From England' s Church and England' s Tliron e, 
 
 A miglity cclio thrills his ear ; 
 " We will not have them ! — Keep your own, 
 
 But send no Popish Bishops here !"
 
 44 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 LET THEM ALONE ! 
 
 Yes ! " Let tliem alone !" — 'tis tlie Gallic cry ; 
 But where is tlie Protestant tongue to reply ? 
 It may do for the sluggard, may do for the 
 
 drone, 
 But the true-hearted man will not " let them 
 
 alone !" 
 
 What! — "Let them alone," while they sap, 
 
 and they mine, 
 Resolving to compass their deadly design ; 
 While they stealthily strike at the Church 
 
 and the Throne ! 
 Say, shall Protestant Englishmen " let them 
 
 alone ?"
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 45 
 
 While they deck out their persons with pomp 
 
 and display, 
 As a Jezebel did in the conqueror's way, 
 Till the simple are caught by the bait that is 
 
 thrown, 
 Rhall we see the destruction and " let them 
 
 alone?" 
 
 WJien '' the lambs of the Lord" are beguiled 
 
 -- '--*- ^y from the fold, 
 To'fhe Moloch of Mystery offered and sold ; 
 Oh ! while fathers and mothers have " lambs" 
 
 of their own. 
 They will not — they dare not — say, ''Let them 
 
 alone !" 
 
 Oh ! it was not the spirit that breathed in 
 
 our sires, 
 It was not the spirit that spake in the fires. 
 And it is not the spirit— it is not the tone 
 Of the true-hearted Protestant — " let them 
 
 alone !"
 
 46 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Let the coward, who dares not abandon his ease, 
 The worldling, who cares but his fellow to 
 
 please, 
 Let the Puseyite spare what is " bone of his 
 
 bone," 
 They had better be peaceful and '' let them 
 
 alone !" 
 
 But ye good men, and true men ! who value 
 
 the faith, 
 And are ready to seal your profession in death, 
 Shut your ears to a doctrine, you never have 
 
 known. 
 And bid those who hold it, to let you alone ! 
 
 Yes ! you know what you do ; you have chosen 
 
 your plan 
 For the honour of Jesus — the welfare of man ; 
 And the '^Harlot" must come from Immanuel's 
 
 throne. 
 Ere you lay down your armour and " let them 
 
 alone !"
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 47 
 
 GUNPOWDER PLOT. 
 
 " God grant that neither we nor ours live to see the Fifth of November for- 
 gotten, or the solemnity of it silenced." — Bishop Sandersox. 
 
 
 " Oil ! tlie Gunpowder Plot, 
 It shall ne'er be forgot !" 
 ^'Tis a-«ong from my youth I remember ! 
 ^nd far be the day, 
 When my zeal shall decay 
 For the glorious Fifth of November ! 
 
 'Twas a cowardly blow 
 
 Of a treacherous foe. 
 To be dealt on our Protestant nation ; 
 
 But its weight never fell. 
 
 For the minion of hell 
 Was caught at his Popish vocation ! 
 
 And our Protestant cause 
 Was saved from the jaws
 
 48 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Of the '^ Beast" tliat would feed on its failing ; 
 And our Protestant Faitb 
 Drew its sword from the sheath, 
 
 And followed it, wounded and wailing. 
 
 " So the Gunpowder Plot, 
 
 It shall ne'er be forgot !" 
 We'll sing it — and tell it — and shout it, 
 
 Though Eome will essay 
 
 To pass over the day. 
 And bid us think nothing about it. 
 
 With our bells by daylight, 
 And our bonfires at night, 
 
 AYe'll shew her how well we remember ; 
 While with hearty accord 
 We give praise to the Lord, 
 
 For His care on the Fifth of November.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 49 
 
 BEGOXE ! 
 
 A WORD TO TEACTARIAN JESUITS. 
 
 Bei?one1 ye men of double heart, 
 
 '^Ve want your posts and places filling 
 With such, as play a better part 
 
 Than sergeants of a Popish drilling. 
 3Iake way ! and tether in your train 
 
 The Romish herd you've ranged about you ; 
 Give up your place to honest men, 
 
 Ere honest lips and language scout you ! 
 
 Begone ! — but just before you go, 
 
 Throw off' all Jesuit pretences. 
 And let us but in fairness know 
 
 That Rome has paid y<ju all expenses :
 
 i 
 
 50 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Tell them you kept your posts and pelf, 
 Until she made the handsome offer, 
 
 ;Vnd then you reckoned with yourself 
 'Twas wise to take her at her proffer. 
 
 Oh ! tell us not of conscience' power. 
 
 Of conscience with conviction pleading — 
 Where slept her echoes, till the hour 
 
 That finds you to the Harlot speeding ? 
 Did conscience blush to take the spoil. 
 
 To finger forth our Church's money ? 
 Was conscience pleading all the while 
 
 Ye fattened on her " milk and honey ?" 
 
 Go home ! — Go home ! — The vain pretence 
 
 Is past an honest mind's receiving : 
 A libel on our common sense, 
 
 A subterfuge beyond believing ! — 
 Or if ye will maintain the word, 
 
 And have your step accounted holy, 
 Then, self-convicted, ye have erred 
 
 With less of knav'ry — more of folly !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 51 
 
 WJiicliever be your piteous case, 
 
 'Tis plain ye cannot dwell among us ; 
 The Vatican will find a place 
 
 For you, and all the rest, who wrong us. 
 Then go — ye double minds — go home ! 
 
 Let honest-hearted men replace you, 
 Give up coquetting thus with Eome, 
 
 And let her " Harlot" arms embrace you ! 
 
 -•^ ^y
 
 52 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE DAYS OF OLD. 
 
 The days of old ! — tlie days of old ! — 
 The deedful days our fathers knew, 
 
 When Smithfield fires were never cold, 
 And flowers in martyrs' ashes grew. 
 
 Hight days were those for noble deeds, 
 Deep drank the men of sacred truth ; 
 
 And words were caught from hoary heads 
 To fire the ready mmd of youth. 
 
 Those were the days of gallant hearts, 
 To bleed or burn for Jesu's sake ; 
 
 When Frith and Cranmer played their parts, 
 And Eome was bearded at the stake !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 53 
 
 Ohj for the soul, that braved her then, 
 To breathe on these degen'rate days : 
 
 Oh ! that the spirit of the slain 
 Might fan our fervour to a blaze ! 
 
 We speak not, cry not, watch, nor pray. 
 Nor labour, as our sires have done ; 
 
 But sleep, while foemen steal away 
 .Tli^ hgritage, their blood has won. 
 
 jf. 
 
 It is not meet— it is not good — 
 
 That dogs should eat the children's bread, 
 And Popish parasites intrude, 
 
 ^^Tiere loyal feet alone may tread. 
 
 But eat they do — intrude they will — 
 Maintain their stand on Britain's Isle, 
 
 While Protestants are sleeping still. 
 Or meet aggression with a smile.
 
 54 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 The days of old ! — tlie days of old 
 Had found a different race of men — 
 
 Another tale had soon been told, 
 
 And Rome been sent to Rome again ! 
 
 But though the soul of zeal may sleep, 
 She is not dead — she is not gone — 
 
 E'en now her waking pinions sweep 
 Around the walls of " Babylon." 
 
 And ere she folds her gallant wing, 
 New deeds of daring shall be told. 
 
 And future bards rejoice to sing. 
 Of these illustrious " days of old !"
 
 PEOTESTANT BALLADS. 55 
 
 THE BIBLE— THE BIBLE ALONE. 
 
 ' The Bible alone is tlie religion of Protestants.' — Chillimgwobth. 
 
 The Bible ! — The Bible alone, 
 
 Is the rule of our Protestant creed ; 
 A^nd th& truth, it proclaims, has arisen and 
 
 ! ..^ ^^. gromi, 
 
 * Froin the pure " incorruptible seed." 
 
 Traditions, and Fathers, and Saints, 
 
 With fictions and fables beside. 
 With all the gay pictures, that Popery paints, 
 
 To foster the soul of her pride — 
 
 All these are the theme of her song. 
 On these are her mummeries built ; 
 
 x\nd, clad in their sanction, she triumphs 
 along 
 Through the Protestant blood, she has spilt.
 
 56 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 To Customs and Councils slie turns, 
 
 Defending her horrible creed : 
 While the Word of Jehovah she slanders or 
 bums, 
 
 And laughs at the damnable deed. 
 
 But the Word of our God shall remain. 
 
 Our only unchangeable guide ; 
 While our hands are prepared, as our hearts, 
 to maintain 
 
 What our forefathers bled for, and died. 
 
 And the Word of our God we'll defend, 
 As it leads us the way to the Throne : 
 
 For the Rule of our Faith, till in vision it end, 
 Is the Bible — the Bible alone !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 57 
 
 WHAT IS A PROTESTANT? 
 
 AN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION. 
 
 He's a man who " protests" — so we give liim 
 ' -.^ ^w- ^\yq name, 
 Who's a tongue — and is able to use it ; 
 Who values "the Truth," and is quick to 
 proclaim 
 That none shall, unanswer'd, abuse it. 
 
 He's a man who has drunk at the spring of 
 
 the past, 
 Where the spirit of Freedom is flowing ; 
 Who has lived where the blood of the martyrs 
 
 was cast. 
 Where the "seed of the (church" has been 
 
 growing.
 
 58 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 He's an eye, that is ever, and keenly awake 
 To the plots of a Popish Pretender ; 
 
 That can see through the grass, and discover 
 the snake, 
 However disguised he may send her. 
 
 He's a foot, that is read at every call, 
 
 To depart where his duty may lead him ; 
 
 He's a hand, and a purse, that are open withal. 
 When the cause of the faithful may need 
 him. 
 
 He's a judgment, unblinded by Jesuit dust ; 
 
 He's a spirit that dares to proclaim it ; 
 He's a conscience, that tells him he ought, and 
 
 he must. 
 
 Though his nearest and dearest may blame 
 
 it. 
 
 He's a heart — or he is not a Protestant true ; 
 That can pity a Romanist brother ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 59 
 
 An;l he'd rather his pulse shoiikl be still, than 
 he'd do 
 What he would not receive from another. 
 
 But he'll preach him the truth, and he'll 
 breathe him a prayer, 
 For he loves him too well to desert him ; 
 He wiU shew him his error, and bid him 
 <-' ' " beware: 
 
 ''ffle will warn, if he cannot convert him. 
 
 To his Queen he is bound by a loyalist faith. 
 From the false and the foe to defend her ; 
 
 And the lips, that are pledg'd, may be whiten'd 
 in death. 
 But they never shall speak a sun-ender. 
 
 From the Faith of the faithful he cannot be 
 led, 
 By the torture he could not be driven ; —
 
 60 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 He lias chosen the path of the glorious dead, 
 And will trace out the chart they have 
 given. 
 
 For the Bible — his guide to eternity's day — 
 
 From his cradle, was open before him ; 
 While the Spirit of Truth, like the sun in the 
 wav, 
 With His light and His life has been o'er 
 him. 
 
 To the Throne, to the Church, to the Bible he 
 clings. 
 
 Treble-anchored, he rides on the ocean. 
 Contented to float, he despises the wings 
 
 Of each airy and infidel notion. 
 
 Treble-anchored, he rests, till the Pilot appears, 
 
 And the order for loosing is given. 
 Then his anchor he weighs, and in triumph 
 
 he steers 
 Through the portal, that opens to heaven.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 61 
 
 There's the picture I draw of a Protestant 
 true : 
 You Diay stamp it " high-coloured," or 
 doubt it, 
 But the character stands, though it stand for 
 but few. 
 And you are not a true one without it ! 
 
 LaV'-atside, lay aside then, half-ardour and 
 *'- ■ _ 
 
 sloth ! 
 
 Let a zeal and a vigour supplant them ! 
 
 In the cause of Jehovah we call for them both, 
 
 And the time has arrived, when we want 
 
 them. 
 
 And the time may arrive, it icill sooner or late, 
 Wlien your name may be added to story ; 
 
 Then brace up your heart for a Protestant's 
 fate, 
 If it yeara for a Protestant's glory !
 
 62 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE SONG OF A TRUE ONE. 
 
 A SEQUEL TO THE PRECEDING POEM. 
 
 I've a Protestant name to begin with ; 
 " Ignatius," and names of tlie crew, 
 With high-somiding titles, for sinners to sin 
 
 with. 
 
 I've nothing whatever to do. 
 My name to its owner was given 
 
 When his God to his being gave birth, 
 And if only he finds it is written in heaven, 
 
 He cares not for titles of earth.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 63 
 
 I've/'a Protestant heart to rejoice with, 
 
 Over wanderers leaving their ways ; 
 And the fetterless tongue, that I lift up my 
 voice with, 
 
 ShalL give my Redeemer the praise : 
 For I love my poor Rome-ridden brother, 
 
 I weep for his "wormwood and gall ;" 
 And rejoice, when I see him forsaking all 
 "-- other, 
 
 Andr ittftkino' his Jesus his all. 
 
 I've a Protestant spirit to rise with, 
 
 When the pirate is hard in the wake 
 Of the sliip, that I sail for a heavenly prize 
 with, 
 
 Where all that I love is at stake : 
 And I'm ready, with all the true-hearted. 
 
 To nail up her flag to the mast ; 
 And to fight like a man, till the foe is 
 departed. 
 
 Or cries out for quarter at last.
 
 64 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 I've a Protestant mind to discern with, 
 
 To sever the precious and vile ; 
 The windings of Error to trace, and return 
 with, 
 
 Unhurt by the snare and the wile : 
 To judge — and to give you a reason 
 
 For the hope that illumines my road, 
 To suggest me a word, to be spoken in 
 season. 
 
 For turning a sinner to God. 
 
 I 
 
 I've a Protestant's trials to cope with, 
 
 I've a Protestant's joys to sustain, 
 And a Protestant's faith to rekindle my hope 
 with. 
 
 To pledge me it is not in vain. 
 So, with heart, mind, and spirit united. 
 
 Taking evil and good as they come, 
 I stand to the cause, where my vows have been 
 plighted. 
 
 And I wait for the summons from home.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 65 
 
 F;'om the home of the holy descending, 
 
 That summons will come at its time ; 
 Inviting to life never-ending, 
 
 To God, and to glory sublime : 
 To Prophet — Apostle — Confessor — 
 
 Oh, grace ! introducing my name ; 
 Of bliss an eternal possessor, 
 
 With all who have followed the Lamb.
 
 66 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 ONE OE THE OTHER. 
 
 " Like two men of- war, the two Churches are side by side— lashed to each 
 other — and one or the other must go down." — Db. Gumming. 
 
 " One or the other," 
 Which shall it be ?— 
 
 Englishmen ! what do you say ? 
 Protestant sons 
 Of the great and the free, 
 
 Let us decide it to-day ! 
 
 " Lashed to each other," 
 A terrible word ! — 
 
 Terrible only as true — 
 
 Up with the standard ! 
 All hands on board. 
 
 Ready to dare and to do !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. G7 
 
 ^ '•'• One or the other," 
 
 Fast side by side, 
 '^ One or the other must go !" — 
 
 Which on the ocean 
 
 Gallant shall ride ? — 
 Which shall be buried below ? 
 
 Englishmen ! ours 
 
 It is to proclaim ; 
 
 <.Pi^otSstants ! ours is the foe \ — 
 «■ --^ ^^■ 
 
 '':'.-. Victors — and ours 
 Alone is the fame — 
 Conquered — and ours is the woe. 
 
 Oh ! by the spirits, 
 
 Loving in bliss 
 The vessel, they guarded of yore ; 
 
 Rouse ye, for shame ! 
 
 At a moment like this, 
 Rouse ! or be slaves evermore ! 
 
 Tell the Usurper 
 Doubt you have none.
 
 68 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 " Down to the deep he must go ;- 
 Or if YOU fall, 
 The life-blood of all 
 
 Must crimson the waters below !" 
 
 BRITAIN'S BIBLE. 
 
 Britain's Bible ! Britain's Bible ! 
 
 Source of Britain's envied name ; 
 Sure it is a daring libel 
 
 Ought beside to give the fame : — 
 Where's the Isle, on sea or ocean. 
 
 Where, upon the world's wide sod. 
 Glows the land with like devotion 
 
 To her Bible and her God ?
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 69 
 
 Britain's Bible long hath taught her 
 
 Whence the springs of honour rise ; 
 Streams from such a source have brought her 
 
 Lofty in the nations' eyes. 
 She's a gueen ! — the kingdoms own her 
 
 Mistress of their every sea, 
 And no tyrant can dethrone her 
 
 From her high supremacy. 
 
 ^^ 
 _ >■ -•- 
 
 Say, .then^ Britons ! — say, shall strangers, 
 
 Base Italians, vaunt again, 
 And her sons be slow aveno-ers. 
 
 Wiping off the " scarlet" stain ? — 
 Shall they suffer Romish fetters 
 
 On the free and open Word — 
 Tiomish Priests to brave their betters 
 
 In the vineyard of the Lord ? 
 
 Say, will British Freemen stand it. 
 With their Bible in their hand ? — 
 
 Shall these llomish Bishops brand it, 
 In its own adopted land ?
 
 70 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Nay ! by all that Book enjoins iis, 
 We'll resist them to their teeth ; 
 
 And the post, our God assigns us, 
 Shall be guarded to the death. 
 
 England shall be free for ever, 
 
 England's Bible keep her free, 
 Till there's not a shred to sever 
 
 From her throne of liberty : 
 Closed, but when her hist'ry closes. 
 
 Be that Bible, whence it came ; 
 When her laurell'd name reposes 
 
 In the record-book of Fame !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 71 
 
 THE MEN OF MAEY'S DAYS. 
 
 A SUGGESTION FOR THE "MARTYRS' MEMORIAL. 
 
 BrtKg a tablet, fair and white, 
 
 ' Pilre from every spot and stain ; 
 On its marble surface write 
 
 Heroes of the martvr'd slain. 
 Write them brothers, side by side, 
 
 Claimants for perennial praise. 
 Men who burned, and bled, and died — 
 
 ]\Iighty men of j\Iary's days ! 
 
 Aged Rogers ! — Write him down. 
 Firm and faithful — l^old and brave ; 
 
 Stretching forward to the crown. 
 Past the faggot and the grave ;
 
 72 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Leaving wife, and cliilclren ten, 
 With the God, whom he obeys ; 
 
 Foremost of the faithful men — 
 Holy men of Mary's days. 
 
 Glorious Hooper ! — scarce his name 
 
 Needs a monumental place ; 
 Burnt into the scroll of fame, 
 
 Ages will the record trace ; 
 But we'll write him with the host 
 
 Marching bravely to the blaze : 
 Men who never fled their post — 
 
 Valiant men of Mary's days ! 
 
 BowLAND Taylor, holy man. 
 
 On the tablet next appears, 
 Forward in the battle's van. 
 
 Full of honours as of years — 
 Led to burn at Hadleigh town. 
 
 Where he taught Eeligion's ways ; 
 There to earn a bright renown. 
 
 With the men of Mary's days.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 73 
 
 Noble Beadfoed asks a place — 
 
 Smitlifield found liim one of vore — 
 
 Man of gioiy, as of grace, 
 
 Wlio may claim tlie honour more ? 
 
 Grace, uplield liim in tlie flame, 
 ^ Glory eddied from tlie blaze *, 
 
 Give liim, then, a gloiious name. 
 With the men of Mary's days. 
 
 - «• -*- 
 
 LAXi^5J8.mid EiDLEY come, 
 
 *Liet them follow side by side ; 
 They together met the doom. 
 
 They together bravely died ; 
 So together write them down. 
 
 Brothers in a nation's praise. 
 Brothers, claimants for the crown 
 
 Worn by men of Mary's days. 
 
 Cranmee ! — man of liolv mio-ht — 
 
 Let his honours all be told ; 
 Keep his falt'ring out of sight. 
 
 Write his faith in lines of gold :
 
 t PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 'Twas the flesh that failed alone — 
 Heav'n-boni spirit ne'er betrays — 
 
 'Grave his glory on the stone, 
 With the men of Mary's days. 
 
 Take the tablet, covered o'er 
 
 With its great and graceful names, 
 Place it, where they stood of yore, 
 
 Undismay'd amid the flames ! 
 Build no vast memorial there, 
 
 Lasting gratitude to raise ; 
 Name them ! and our hearts prepare 
 
 Shrines for men of Mary's days.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 75 
 
 PEOTESTANT VOTEES. 
 
 A WORD FOR THE APPROACHING ELECTION. 
 
 Protestant Voters ! arise to your duty — 
 'Tis not a call undemanded or vain, 
 
 'Tis, shall your fatherland shine in her beauty, 
 Or sink in the dungeon of darkness again ? 
 
 Tis, shall the Truth, that illumin'd and raised 
 her — 
 Lever-like power — to the summits of mind. 
 Basely betrayed by the lips that have praised 
 her, 
 Leave but the record of glory behind.
 
 76 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Protestant Voters ! tlie day is approacliing, 
 Soon must tlie voice of a nation proclaim, 
 
 Will she resist tlie Usurper's encroaching, 
 Or forge her own fetters to hang on her 
 shame ? 
 
 Fill but our Senate with men double-hearted, 
 Soon will the issue appear to your cost : 
 
 " Ichabod" traced upon grandeur departed. 
 Tell of the glory your folly has lost. 
 
 Send but to legislate, men of devotion, 
 Protestant men for a Protestant land. 
 
 Then shall om- o^vn little Isle of the Ocean 
 Still as the bulwark of liberty stand. 
 
 Oh, be persuaded ! — The fate is tremendous ; 
 
 Eests the decision alone upon you : 
 Britons ! beware that the Eulers you send us 
 
 Be not deceivers, but good men and true.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 77 
 
 Then shall our Protestant rights be defended, 
 Yet shall the standard of liberty wave ; 
 
 And ere old England's renown shall be ended, 
 Glory herself shall be laid in the grave. 
 
 
 THE HOESE AND HIS EIDEE. 
 
 " And I saw, and behold a white horse : and he that sat on him had a bow ; 
 and a crown was given unto him ; and he went forth conquering and to con- 
 quer." — Rev. vi. 2. 
 
 The horse and his Eider 
 
 Eushed over the plain, 
 And his bright bow was twanging 
 
 Again and again ;
 
 78 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 And a glittering diadem 
 Circled Ms head, 
 
 As alone in his might 
 To the battle he sped. 
 
 That horse and his Rider 
 
 Have conquered along, 
 And ages to ages 
 
 Have echoed their song : 
 The song of Salvation, 
 
 Of victory won, 
 By the Hero of Heaven, 
 
 The Monarch's own Son. 
 
 His steed never falters. 
 
 His bow never fails, 
 His hand never wearies. 
 
 His heart never quails ; 
 But he rushes to meet. 
 
 Or he follows the foe. 
 While an arrow remains 
 
 To his conquering bow.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 79 
 
 And still shall lie ride 
 
 On his mission of might, 
 Till the day has arisen 
 
 That knows not a night ; 
 When the Eider, dismounting, 
 
 His vanquished will own, 
 To share in his trimnph. 
 
 And sit on His throne. 
 
 - '^-^Qf^-the Eider is Jesus : — 
 "He fights, but to bring 
 Each foeman to own him 
 
 His Lord and his King ; 
 And the captives, who yield, 
 
 AVill be first to proclaim 
 Their anthems of praise 
 To Emmanuel's name ! 
 
 <<.
 
 80 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE GRANT TO MAYNOOTH. 
 
 Oh ! shame on the truth, 
 
 That a grant to Maynooth 
 Should be stainhig okl Albion's honour ; 
 
 That a blush of disgrace 
 
 Should bemantle her face, 
 For the yearly imposture upon her. 
 
 While the horse-leech of Rome 
 
 Is at ease, and at home, 
 As it feeds on the blood of her blushes ; 
 
 And her heart never grieves, 
 
 While the stream she receives. 
 For the "heretic" fount, whence it gushes.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 81 
 
 .y But it flows to the breast 
 Of the Monk and the Priest, 
 
 Just to fill up the cup of their malice ; 
 Till its wrath shall be shed 
 On the suicide head 
 
 Of the fools, who have burthen' d the chalice. 
 
 Oh ! ye good men and true, 
 
 It, depends upon you, 
 UiMJTl inen of a Protestant spirit, 
 "'■-'.-. To roll off the disgrace. 
 
 From the name and the place. 
 That your children are bom to inherit. 
 
 Say ! shall there remain 
 
 This unbearable stain 
 On the mantle of Albion's glory ? 
 
 Or will good men unite 
 
 In the power of their might. 
 To wipe off the reproach from lier story ? 
 
 Come then, old age and youth ! 
 Tliere's a gi-ant to Maynooth,
 
 82 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 But the folly we'll suffer no longer, 
 
 So take up the pen, 
 
 Write agam and again. 
 Till the Eoman be taught who's the stronger. 
 
 Petition ! — Petition ! 
 
 Against imposition — 
 It's a way that we have of succeeding ; 
 
 And we'll shew to Maynooth, 
 
 Aye, in spite of her tooth, 
 Tliat she's done with her Protestant bleeding !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. ' 83 
 
 THE TRIAL OF THE SEVEN 
 BISHOPS. 
 
 .Xn^Y^^t^ud tlie test — tliose faithful men ! 
 * TThey brave tlie tyrant's rod ; 
 A shameful life — their choice between — 
 
 Or martyrdom for God. 
 Yet brave and bold the heroes stand 
 
 Within the lion's den, 
 A firm and faithful Bishop band — 
 
 A band of holy men ! 
 
 And courage dwells in eveiy eye, 
 And power on every brow ; — 
 
 Aye, tyrant ! wliere's the tyranny 
 Can tame their spirits now ?
 
 84 PEOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Can prison hold, or sliackle bind, 
 The soul that will be fi-ee ? 
 
 Nay, rather sway the winged wind, 
 Or chain the mighty sea ! 
 
 They icill be free ! They icill be free !- 
 
 The eyes of years to come 
 Are looking for their chivalry 
 
 To brave the wrath of Eome ; 
 And they are vow'd to leave behind 
 
 A testimony true, 
 Where Protestants may look and find 
 
 Wliat they are called to do. 
 
 They left it ! — Aye, upon the page, 
 
 Where British deeds are told 
 It stands, the pride of every age. 
 
 In characters of irold : 
 The God, they feared, came in between 
 
 The victims and the sword, 
 But not before a world had seen 
 
 Their valour for the Lord.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 85 
 
 Look on ! Look on ! — Tliougli years are gone, 
 
 Their spirit yet remains ; 
 Look on ! — till each resolves that none 
 
 Shall groan in Papal chains ; 
 By all their constancy and faith, 
 
 Our hearts be roused again. 
 Like them to risk a martyr's death — 
 
 Those good and faithful men !
 
 86 PKOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 "LET THEM GO!" 
 
 " They went out from us, but they were not of us." — 1 John, ii. 19. 
 
 Let tliein go ! — we are better without tliem, 
 
 They never belonged to the fold ; 
 It is better to know, than to watch, and to 
 doubt them ; 
 
 It is safer to loose, than to hold : 
 For the hand, that professes the bi'other, 
 
 While the heart is betroth' d to a foe. 
 We would rather resign to the grasp of 
 another, 
 
 Than retain in our own ! — let them go ! 
 
 Let them go ! and a welcome will meet them. 
 That shall blacken for ever their name ; 
 
 If a smile from the Harlot of Babylon greet 
 them. 
 Let them have it — but blush for the shame !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 87 
 
 Th^ have rushed from the pathway of honour, 
 From the road, that then- forefathers trod, 
 
 But the Church of their sires — there shall 
 brighten upon her 
 The smile of her Loed and her God ! 
 
 Let them go ! yes, and barter the glory, 
 
 That yet undiminish'd belongs 
 Tolthe fame of her loyal, her Protestant story, 
 
 Which martyi's have borne on their tongues: 
 Let them barter their birthright and lose it 
 
 For the savoury pottage of Eome ; 
 While they had it, they only retained, to 
 abuse it, 
 
 Let them go, where their hearts are at 
 home ! 
 
 And ye, who still hanker among us 
 
 For the pomp, the parade, and the shoAv, 
 
 That Rome is displaying, why wrong us ? 
 Be fair — and be honest — and go !
 
 88 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 We have tlionsands to boast of without you, 
 
 AVhose liand-pulse and heart-pulse are true ; 
 Rome will know you, but Protestants doubt 
 
 So Rome is the quarter for you ! 
 
 But oh ! as ye lower the old banner, 
 
 That martyrs and saints have unfurled; 
 As ye leave the old vessel, for others to man 
 her 
 
 In her battle-track over the world ; 
 Remember ! — the standard you're leaving 
 
 Is the blood-redden' d flag of the Cross ; 
 And the bark, on the waves of unfaithfulness 
 heaving. 
 
 Is the vessel that never knew loss. 
 
 But the army, you join in your madness, 
 Is the host that makes war with the Lord ; 
 
 And the ship, you have chosen, is freighted 
 with sadness. 
 For the '' cup of His wrath" is on board !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 89 
 
 Foi^ you — we could weep in our sorrow ; 
 
 For our Churcli — we've no tear to bestow ; 
 You may leave her to-day, and our Zion to- 
 morrow 
 
 Shall be purer for all who may go ! 
 
 A DIRGE FOE THE lEISH MASSACEE. 
 
 There's a cry on the waters, 
 
 A groan on the gale, 
 And Erm's fair daughters 
 
 Have eclio'd the wail : 
 They have torn the gay blossoms 
 
 Away from their hair. 
 And it weeps o'er their bosoms. 
 
 Like willow boughs there.
 
 90 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 They have ta'en tlie sweet flowers 
 
 To strew tlie cold bed, 
 Wliere tlie dew and the showers 
 
 Have wept on the dead ; 
 They have plucked the red heather 
 
 By brothers' blood dyed ; 
 They have twmed it together 
 
 To wear in their pride. 
 
 Aye ! the wife and the maiden 
 
 May weep o'er the tomb, 
 But their wailing is laden 
 
 With praise for the doom ; 
 And the heart, that is broken 
 
 To clasp the cold clay, 
 Will wear the red token. 
 
 That grew where it lay. 
 
 Oh, Erin ! thy mountains 
 Are strewn with the slain ; 
 
 Thy rivers and fountains 
 Flow crimson again.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 91 
 
 ^While widow weeds springing, 
 
 Mourn over their grave, 
 And liarebells seem ringing 
 A peal for the brave. 
 
 „ Oh ! long have they slumbered 
 Beneath the green sod. 
 But their names are all numbered, 
 Arid known to their God : 
 ' A-Md"*he true hearts that never 
 * ' Fled faggot or sword, 
 Shall enter for ever 
 The joy of their Lord !
 
 92 PKOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 JEEOME'S LAST WOEDS. 
 
 " As he went to execution he sang several hjnnns. He embraced the stake 
 with great courage, and when tliey were about to liglit the faggots behind him 
 he bade them come in front : " If 1 had feared the fire,'' said he, " I should not 
 have come here !" His last words were " This soul in flames I offer, Christ, to 
 thee!" — Book of Martyrs. 
 
 " This soul in flames 
 
 I OFFER, ChEIST, TO ThEE ! " 
 
 The words are spoken — 
 Attendant spirits 
 Laud the constancy, 
 
 Their tones betoken. 
 
 '' This soul ! " — he knew 
 Whence first its being came, 
 And whither tending •,
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 93 
 
 The martyr felt 
 
 'Twas proof against tlie flame — 
 A life miending. 
 
 " In flames ! " — not laid 
 On peaceful pillow dying, 
 
 AVliile friends surromid liim ; 
 But cliained like brute, 
 A rabble's glee supplying, 
 
 The fire-death found him. 
 
 " I OFFER ! "—Yes !— 
 For 'tis no execution, 
 
 But free oblation ; 
 To him he gives, 
 Who made that soul's ablution. 
 
 Its consecration. 
 
 So " Christ, to Thee ! "— 
 The martyr knoAvs no other — 
 Nor would he yield it
 
 94 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 But to its Lord, 
 Its Maker, and its Brother, 
 Wlio saved, and sealed it. 
 
 Good Jerome died — 
 
 He left the words behind him 
 
 For us to read them ; 
 Nor that alone, 
 But bright example find him. 
 
 If e'er we need them.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 95 
 
 THE LAND IS AWAKE. 
 
 a^RITTEN DURING THE AGITATION CONSEQUENT UPON THE 
 LATE PAPAL AGGRESSION. 
 
 T|iE land is awake ! slie is startled at lengtli, 
 Ay epilation speaks out in tlie pride of her 
 
 * ■-' ' " strength. : 
 
 There's a voice on the air from her millions 
 
 of men, 
 Proclaiming them ripe for the combat again ! 
 
 There's a voice on the air — and we rise at the 
 tone, 
 
 For it comes from the cottage, it comes from 
 the throne •, 
 
 And the swell of its chorus declares to a world 
 
 That the standard of Protestant might is un- 
 furled !
 
 96 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Aye ! tlie slumber — tlie dream — of delusion is 
 
 past, 
 And our men look at tMngs as tliey are at tlie 
 
 last ; 
 For the Eoman has taken the mask from his 
 
 brow, 
 And the foe must be grappled with manfully 
 
 now! 
 
 0, ye pleaders for peace ! crying " Let them 
 
 alone," 
 Ye have found it is time ye should alter your 
 
 tone: 
 Show yourselves as you ought, then, in front 
 
 of the fight ; 
 Men of peace till you're wronged, men of war 
 
 for the right. 
 
 Aye, the land is awake, from the sea to the 
 
 sea, 
 From the shore to the shore she resolves to be 
 
 free !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 97 
 
 She resolves it — proclaims it — " No Cardinal's 
 
 tread 
 Shall befoul the green sod, where the faithful 
 
 have bled !" 
 
 Let him come ! let him come ! Let him polish 
 
 the chain,* 
 That he brings to enfetter our Zion again ; 
 We-*haYe^]cnown it of old — we remember it 
 
 ;: "^ -*"' still. 
 
 We can strip it of all the false glare — and we 
 will! 
 
 And we'll show to the nations, that bend in 
 the yoke, 
 
 That we wear not the bond, which our fore- 
 fathers broke ; 
 
 And we'll bid them arise in the might of their 
 men. 
 
 Proclaiming the rightdom of judgment again. 
 
 * See Cardinal Wiseman's Manifesto. 
 F
 
 98 PROTESTANT BALLADS 
 
 Then tlie world shall awake ! — and the king- 
 doms declare 
 
 " That no foreign prince shall be potentate 
 there ;" 
 
 Till the banner Old England has nobly un- 
 furled — 
 
 The flag of Truth's freedom — waves over the 
 world ! 
 
 PROTESTANT AGGRESSION. 
 
 We have suffered her long, 
 But we slumber no longer, 
 
 The sunlight of Truth bids delusion away ; 
 And the army of Jesus 
 Is stronger and stronger 
 
 To marshal its mighty in battle array.
 
 PEOTESTANT BALLADS. 99 
 
 ■^ No more, with her fawmiig, 
 Does " Babylon" guile us, 
 For she dares to usurp, without shame or 
 disguise : 
 - All the scimi of her filthiness 
 Flings to defile us, 
 And the dust of her vanities throws in our 
 eyes ! 
 
 Are Britons — are Protestants 
 
 Lost to the feeling. 
 That blushes to yield a Usurper the sway ? 
 
 Then, away with half-measures ! 
 
 Away double-dealing ! 
 Cast compromise once and for ever away. 
 
 Not, alone, be the walls 
 Of our Zion defended. 
 Let us meet the besiegers without on the 
 p]aiu ;
 
 100 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Never halt from the charge, 
 Till the battle is ended, 
 And Rome is disabled from fighting again. 
 
 Then, a shout for Aggression 
 
 On Rome's usurpation ! 
 A song for the faithful, who rise at the word ! 
 
 'Tis the Protestant cry 
 
 Of a Protestant nation, 
 And we " w^ish it good luck, in the name of 
 the Lord."
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 101 
 
 CURSE YE MEEOZ. 
 
 " Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bitterly tlie inhabi- 
 tants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the 
 Lord against the mighty." — Judges t. 23. 
 
 ^,**jCtfSsE ye Meroz ! Curse ye Meroz !" 
 
 Said tlie angel of the Lord ; 
 Curse ye bitterly lier heroes — 
 
 " Cowards" — were tlie fitter word. 
 To the help of God she came not, 
 
 To His help against the strong : 
 And who for His cause proclaim not, 
 
 To his enemies belong. 
 
 Protestants of every nation, 
 'Tis a warning word for you ; 
 
 Make at once the application, 
 Ere the curse of Meroz do.
 
 102 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 'Tis no time to lounge and linger, 
 On the borders of the fray, 
 
 When Jehovah points the finger 
 To His standard borne away ! 
 
 Yes ! — for God will sure demand it ; 
 
 Yes ! — the battle's for the Lord ; 
 Bids you, ere a Pope may brand it, 
 
 Seize and save his " Written Word ;" 
 Save and shield from desecration. 
 
 What } our fathers left behind 
 At the gkrious Eeformation, 
 
 To theii kindred and their kind. 
 
 Who can shrink in such a battle ? 
 
 Who be slow to swell the host ? 
 Goaded on like stupid cattle. 
 
 Press-gang warriors at the most. 
 Oh ! ye sleepy, Meroz-hearted, 
 
 Wliere are faith and freedom fled ? 
 Is their spirit all departed ? 
 
 Is the soul of honour dead ?
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 103 
 
 '^'Curse ye Meroz !" — " Curse ye Meroz !" 
 Hear the judgment of tlie Lord ; 
 
 Britons, find your sons and heroes, 
 To defend his perill'd Word. 
 
 Hear, ye what the Lord hath spoken ; 
 
 - Eouse ye now, or never rise. 
 
 Till the cup of wrath is broken. 
 Pouring judgment from the skies. 
 
 Then ^s done ! — The fip'ht is over ! 
 
 Comes reward for every loss ; 
 When the bridal garments cover 
 
 Faithful soldiers of the Cross. 
 But the men of Meroz never 
 
 Hurled a spear, or drew a sword. 
 They shall be accurs'd for ever 
 
 From the presence of the Lord !
 
 104: PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 There's a song upon the waters, 
 And tlie winds in chorus join, 
 
 As okl Erin's sons and daughters 
 Sing '' The battle of the Boyne." 
 
 But the song comes o'er the water 
 Like the spirit of despair ; 
 
 Or the echo of a slaughter, 
 AVlien the dying utter prayer. 
 
 Like the night wind sadly singing 
 Of the sunbeams that are past, 
 
 Tis poor old Erin fondly clinging 
 Eound her glory to the last.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 105 
 
 Aye ! she sings of ancient glory, 
 
 But all sadden' d is her lay, 
 For the blots upon her story 
 
 Cast, in this degen'rate day. 
 
 But the song from o'er the waters 
 
 Has been echoed in our land ; 
 J^nd Biitannia's sons and daughters, 
 ' --Eli^yhave ta'en the harp in hand 
 
 They have caught the lagging numbers 
 That the winds and waters join ; 
 
 And they wake the soul, that slumbers 
 O'er '' The battle of the Boyne !" 
 
 And already from the waters 
 There's an echo glad and gay 
 
 From Hibernia's sons and daughters, 
 As they strike the olden lay.
 
 lOG PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 And already deeds are telling, 
 For a sure and welcome sign, 
 
 They will yet liave songs excelling 
 E'en " The Battle of the Boyne !" 
 
 A WORD OF WAKING. 
 
 Englishmen ! — Protestants ! — sons of the 
 martyrs, 
 On with yoiu' armom', and out with your 
 sword ; — 
 He who for ease his own liberty barters, 
 Must not remain in the ranks of the Lord.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 107 
 
 ,^ 
 
 No \^ we want good men, and true men of 
 spirit, 
 Bold in the battle, as firm in tlie faitli ; 
 Men who the soul of their fathers inherit, 
 Yielcling their principles but with their 
 breath. 
 
 Rome has spoke out at last — take up her 
 ^» •- token, 
 
 H«.d ba,ck her challenge — hurl back to her 
 ' - " " teeth : 
 Tell her, " heart, hand, and blade — all must 
 be broken. 
 Ere the sword rest she hath roused from 
 its sheath !" 
 
 Bloodless the weapon is — yet it is stronger. 
 Sharper, than Rome ever crimsoned with 
 gore 5 
 England's old Church, ere the Tyrant shall 
 wrong her. 
 Will wield it again, as she wielded of yore.
 
 108 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 But let her hearts of faith rise to the danger, 
 Time it is now they should draw, and strike 
 home ; 
 Rome they may vanquish, but never may 
 change her, 
 On, then, the battle-cry, " No peace with 
 Eome !" 
 
 " No peace with Rome !" — Aye, herself hath 
 decreed it : 
 Spoken at last, and we take up the word ; 
 Englishmen ! — Protestants ! — look at it — read 
 it. 
 Give it your vows in the name of the Lord.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 109 
 
 A PROTESTANT WELCOME. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE OCCASION OF THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO 
 LANCASHIRE. 
 
 '■ '..^A-i^ROTESTANT welcouie 
 To Albion's Queen, 
 
 A hearty good welcome we'll find her ; 
 Nor shall she have found, 
 If she roam the world round, 
 
 Warmer hearts than she's leaving behind her. 
 
 For we're not of the crew, 
 Who can shout for their Queen, 
 
 When their silence were counted for treason, 
 But of those who rejoice 
 With the heart as the voice, 
 
 And are ready to furnish a reason.
 
 110 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Yes ! we give her our love 
 
 For her Protestant truth, 
 For her staunch, and her noble devotion 
 
 To our Protestant cause, 
 
 To our rights and our laws, 
 And her hatred of Popish Promotion, 
 
 Hail ! Queen of our hearts. 
 
 There's a throne for thy name. 
 Wheresoever a bosom is glowing ; 
 
 'Tis a throne shall remain, 
 
 Till it crumble again, 
 To the dust, whence it rose, and is going. 
 
 But longer to last 
 
 Shall thy worth be engraved. 
 On the tablet, that History raises 
 
 To the great and the good, 
 
 Who have candidate stood 
 For a nation's perennial praises.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. Ill 
 
 .^ Then welcome our Queen ! 
 Since she merits our love, 
 With a Protestant spirit we'll show it : 
 With a shout, and a song, 
 ..We'll escort her along. 
 And the Queen of our bosoms shall know it. 
 
 Yes ! a Protestant welcome 
 ^, To Albion's Queen, 
 With^ Jb.earty good spirit we'll find her ; 
 * -^ ' Nor shall she have found, 
 
 When she's gone the world round, 
 Warmer hearts, than she's leaving behind 
 her!
 
 112 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 I HAVE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT. 
 
 ■' I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the 
 faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the 
 Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day." — 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. 
 
 " I HAVE fouglit a good figlit, 
 
 I have kept the faith, 
 1 have finished my course 
 
 To the goal of death ; 
 I've a diadem bright 
 
 For the crowning day, 
 When the Righteous Judge 
 
 Will the saints array." 
 
 'Tis a Protestant true, 
 And a Christian man. 
 
 May repeat the word — 
 'Tis no other can ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 113 
 
 ■*" For the coward, tliat runs 
 From tlie foe and fight, 
 Sliall never be crowned 
 Nor clothed in white. 
 
 But the valiant heart, 
 That never shrank 
 From the hottest charge 
 '» . Jind foremost rank, 
 ^j;"-^hsdl have the reward 
 Of the brave alone — 
 A name and a place 
 On Immanuel's throne. 
 
 Who there would sit. 
 
 Go on ! — go on ! 
 Till summoned away 
 
 Or the battle won : 
 Witli Antichrist 
 
 Maintain the fray, 
 Till Christ shall appear 
 
 And decide the day.
 
 114 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Then hang up your swords 
 
 In the Victor's halls, 
 Take the golden harps 
 
 From the sapphire walls ; 
 String high their cords, 
 
 And the song resound, 
 Of " Babylon" judged, 
 
 And Immanuel crowned.* 
 
 * Rev. xix. 1—6.
 
 TROTESTANT BALLADS. 115 
 
 THE WO^IAN DRUNKEN WITH 
 BLOOD. 
 
 " And I saw Uie woman drunken with the blond of the saints, and with the 
 blood -oT the martj-rs of Jesus." — Rev. xvii. 6. 
 
 
 Aye, " drunken witli blood !" — tln-ough tlie 
 blood of the saints 
 She wades to her destmy, reelmg along ; 
 And the martyrs of Jesus have hushed their 
 complaints, 
 Preparing their harps for her funeral song. 
 
 Aye, '' drunken with blood !" — she has drunk 
 it before : 
 The Vampire ! — she pants to be drinking 
 again ;
 
 116 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 She could relish it well, as she loved it of 
 yore, 
 And she thirsts for it now, as she yearn' d 
 for it then. 
 
 But her measure of guilt has been filled to 
 the brim, 
 And her measure of mercy been emptied of 
 all; 
 And the cup of her vengeance is up to the 
 rim — 
 She has drunk of the blood — she must drink 
 of the gall. 
 
 Let her hasten her doom ! — she is urging it 
 fast. 
 She's for having the red life of martyrs 
 again ; 
 Soon her steel will be sheath'd in the heart 
 of the last. 
 And will open the sluice for the blood of 
 the slain.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 117 
 
 It wi:ll rush from the clam, where its fiiry is 
 pent, 
 Deep — deep — fi-om the millions of streams 
 in its bed ; 
 And the foul hand, that gives it the merciless 
 vent, 
 Shall be wrung in despair for the wrath it 
 has shed. 
 
 Aye,--l€t*h.'er drink on till the hour of her 
 doom ! — 
 Ye saints, that have suffered, 'tis yours to 
 proclaim — 
 " Rejoice ! for the hour of her judgment is 
 come," 
 While ye sing '' Alleluia !" to God and the 
 Lamb !
 
 118 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 MAGNA CHARTA. 
 
 " The Roman Catholics procured Magna Charta, the great bulwark of English 
 Liberty."— Such is the constant boast of the Priests of Rome. 
 
 'Tis a falseliood ! — They know it, 
 
 The boastmg of knaves ; 
 'Tis enougb. for the Barons 
 
 To turn in their graves. 
 " You gained us the Charter !" 
 
 Their ghosts may reply, 
 But they shrink in amaze 
 
 At the face of the lie. 
 
 " You gained us the Charter !" — 
 
 That snake of a king 
 Had goaded the land 
 
 With a merciless sting.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 119 
 
 *■ And when, like a lion, 
 
 It writhed with the pain. 
 Like a lion it bristled 
 Its terrible mane. 
 
 And it rose in its anger. 
 
 It rose in its might, 
 It rose in the struggle 
 ^^ ' :, J\)r Freedom and Right ; 
 '" '"-'A^tl it told the base Monarch 
 The choice was his own. 
 To give it the Charter 
 Or forfeit his throne. 
 
 Did the Tarquin give freedom 
 
 To tyrannised Eome, 
 Compell'd to abandon 
 
 His crown and his home ? 
 He gave it, as Rome gave 
 
 The Charter of yore, 
 Wlien he could not withhold it. 
 
 But never before !
 
 120 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 No ! — never before ! 
 
 For the Pope and his crew 
 Have never cried " Freedom !" 
 
 They lie, when they do : — 
 They were men, I believe, 
 
 Of a different creed. 
 Who demanded the Charter, 
 
 At proud Eunnymede. 
 
 It was wrung from the Tyrant, 
 
 And wrung from the Pope, 
 By men, who had learned 
 
 With the cowards to cope : — 
 To tell us " you gained us 
 
 The Charter"— oh, fie ! 
 But 'tis all of a piece — 
 
 'Tis a falsehood — a lie.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 121 
 
 THE GLOEIOUS REFORMATION. 
 
 Hail the glorious Reformation ! 
 '*^oiiour of our uame and nation — 
 '^, .Bfit^ns ! lift aloud your praises, 
 While your Church her chorus raises, 
 For the men of deed and daring. 
 Men of high and holy bearing, 
 Hearts of love, and minds of might. 
 Morning-stars amid the night ; 
 Bom with Rome to wage the strife. 
 Dying for Religion's life ! 
 
 'Twas the glorious Reformation 
 Struck at Papal domination ; 
 Then the high resolve was given, 
 " Monarchs only Low to Heaven !"
 
 122 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Then the truth, that Eomc had shrouded, 
 
 Like a morning sim beclouded, 
 
 Rose superior to the gloom. 
 
 Lighting Error to her tomb, 
 
 Lighting Albion's sons to see 
 
 How the Truth could make them free. 
 
 And the glorious Eeformation 
 Taught her sons their high vocation ; 
 Gave them Freedom's flag unfurl'd, 
 Dade them wave it through the world, 
 ]\Iarsh'lling warriors near and far, 
 To the anti-Papal war; 
 Truth's eternal triumph leading. 
 Spite of burning and of bleeding. 
 Spite of faggot, fire, and tomb. 
 Crying still " No peace with Eome !" 
 
 Sing the glorious Reformation, 
 England's grand Regeneration ; 
 Sing of gallant grace and truth, 
 Faitliful age, and valiant youth.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 12^^ 
 
 Tir a mighty phalanx banded, 
 
 For the cause, that Eome had branded ; 
 
 Scatt'ring shackles to the wind, 
 
 Soundino; forth the march of mind : 
 
 Giving mighty ]\Iission birth. 
 
 To unchain a captive earth. 
 
 ISIay the glorious Reformation 
 
 Broye a world's great denization ! 
 
 Mjty^oid' England's mission be, 
 
 Malving Popish bondmen free ! 
 
 Light, and love, and life revealing, 
 
 From the Sun, witli wings of healing ; 
 
 Waging still the bloodless strife, 
 
 With the " Sword"— the '' Word of Life"— 
 
 Till the voice of every nation 
 
 Hails the glorious Reformation.
 
 124 
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 " COME OUT OF HEE, MY PEOPLE !" 
 
 " Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that 
 ye receive not of her plagues."— Key. xvui. 4. 
 
 " Come out of her, my people," — come !- 
 
 Her day is drawing nigH, 
 The shaken vial of her doom 
 
 Is ready for the sky. 
 Come out !— ere yet the fatal voice. 
 
 Descending from the throne, 
 Proclaims to every saint, " Eejoice !" 
 
 To Antichrist—'^ Tis done !"- 
 
 " Come out of her, my people," — come !- 
 Her sins have sealed her fate ^f 
 
 Their scent invades Jehovah's home, 
 It mounts His throne of state : 
 
 * Rev. xvi. 17. f Rev. xviii. 5.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 125 
 
 Afid soon another smoke shall rise, 
 
 To disinfect their fiune, 
 From Rome's miending sacrifice* — 
 
 " Come out, my people," — come ! 
 
 Haste ! haste ! — the hom's are flying fast, 
 
 •'Tis fearful to delav : 
 To-morrow, should " the stone" be cast,t 
 -* Ye should have fled to-day ; 
 Qil-^ MYSTERY "—on "Babylon"— 
 
 Tlie miohty crash will fall, 
 And, bringing down the wrath on one, 
 
 Will bring the wrath on all. 
 
 Oh ! by the blood, that freely flow'd 
 
 On Calv'ry's crimson 'd sod, 
 Be wise in time ! — set out the road 
 
 From "Babylon" to God ! 
 The path of martyrs qiuckly tread, 
 
 For quick shall be the doom ; 
 
 * Rev. xviii. 21. f Kev. xix. 3.
 
 12(3 rnOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 " Full mixed her cup, the wme is red" — 
 " Come out, my people," — come ! 
 
 And ye, who bear a Christian name, 
 
 A Christian spirit boast, 
 Arouse ye from your sleep of shame, 
 
 Arouse ! — at any cost I 
 Take up Jehovah's warning call 
 
 In every house and home. 
 That owns "the wormwood and the gall"- 
 
 " Come out, my people," — come !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 127 
 
 OLD ERIN IS WAKING. 
 
 '• '-.»' V** 
 
 Old Erin is waking, 
 
 The nisflit of lier slumber 
 Is yielding its gloom 
 
 To the smirise of hope, 
 And her sires and her sons. 
 
 Mighty armies in number, 
 Desertins: the ranks 
 
 Of the Priest and the Pope 
 They are hasting the day, 
 
 When old Erin shall soar. 
 In the dust of her darkness 
 
 To grovel no more.
 
 128 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 There's a Spirit revealing 
 
 The system of lies, 
 Its doing and dealing, 
 
 Its craft and disguise ; 
 'Tis the Spirit of Wisdom, 
 
 Of Comisel, and Might, 
 Dispelling the shadows 
 
 Of Popery's night ; 
 Exposing the meshes. 
 
 That Rome has entwined 
 On the limbs of the conscience, 
 
 The wings of the mind. 
 
 And old Erin has sons. 
 
 Who aspire to be free. 
 And await but the signal 
 
 To arm cap-a-pie : 
 And the word has been given- 
 
 The standard on high 
 Proclaims to her bondmen 
 
 That freedom is nigh ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 129 
 
 -^ For the " Truth as m Jesus" 
 Is marchmg along, 
 And thousands are singing 
 The Protestant song. 
 
 
 In the dales of the South, 
 
 On the hills of the West, 
 Ji;. the Eobe of Eedemption 
 -^en thousand are drest, 
 They have cast off the tatters, 
 
 The " scarlet'' attire. 
 And they wear the white raiment, 
 
 That angels admire ; 
 While they take up the armour. 
 
 The " shield," and the " sword," 
 The soldiers of Christ, . 
 
 As the sons of the Lord. 
 
 Oil ! speed on thy mission, 
 Thou Spirit of Might,
 
 130 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Till Rome is confounded, 
 
 And shrinks from the light ; 
 Till the smishine of Truth, 
 
 Like the sunbeam of day. 
 Has chased every shadow 
 
 Of error away ; 
 And old Erin, mavourneen, 
 
 Unclouded shall be, 
 '■'■ First flower of the earth, 
 
 And first gem of the sea !"
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 131 
 
 LET IT GO FREE. 
 
 (WRITTEN FOR THE BIBLE SOCIETY.) 
 
 '' That tlie Word of the Lord may have free course and be glorified.' 
 
 2 Thess. iii. 1. 
 
 
 '"J'nffs ! let it go free ! — 
 
 Let the winds and tlie sea 
 Bear outward the call 
 
 For the world's jubilee ; 
 Let the voice of Jehovah, 
 
 The " glorious voice," 
 Go forth to the nations. 
 
 And bid them rejoice. 
 
 'Tis spoken ! — 'tis done ! — 
 
 From the '^ Isles of the North" 
 
 The Word of Jehovah 
 Is echoing forth ;
 
 132 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Ill the Bible-stream torrent 
 
 It miglitily rolls, 
 Proclaiming salvation 
 
 To perishing souls. 
 
 Yes ! a Pentecost day 
 
 Has again reached the earth, 
 And millions unborn 
 
 Shall rejoice at its birth ; 
 For the " Parthian and Mede," 
 
 And the " Stranger of Eome," 
 Shall again hear of God 
 
 In the language of home. 
 
 Speed the Word ! — Speed the Word ! 
 
 For the day of good things 
 The Sun of Salvation 
 
 Has brought on his wings : 
 Send it forth ! — send it forth ! 
 
 On its conquering road, 
 The Witness of Jesus, 
 
 The Warrior of God.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 133 
 
 So millions on millions 
 
 Shall bend to its sway, 
 And idols on idols 
 
 Shall fall on its way, 
 Till the banner of Sliiloh, 
 
 By Britain unfmded, 
 Shall gather the nations, '■■' 
 
 And wave o'er the world, 
 
 "*" * Genesis xlix. 
 
 •*" _
 
 134 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE FATE OF BABYLON. 
 
 IlEV. xviii. 21— xix. 1 9 
 
 A MIGHTY ANGEL took a stone, 
 
 And cast it in the sea ; 
 And " thus," he cried, " shall Babylon, 
 
 The bloody city, be." 
 
 The word is sure — as sure the fate, 
 Though judgment long delay ; 
 
 While souls beneath the altar wait, 
 To hail the wrathful day. 
 
 "How long? oh, Lord — how long?" they 
 
 Lnpatient for the doom — 
 White robes are giv'n them in reply. 
 Till all the slain be come.
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 135 
 
 K little season yet to lie, 
 
 Till fellow-saints be killed, 
 Till all the martyr-company* 
 
 Their numbers have fulfilled. 
 
 The mighty angel then will cast 
 His millstone in the sea, 
 
 And hallelujahs rise at last 
 
 -'* 
 
 '---"Froin earth's high jubilee. 
 '- "■'^ .<^~" 
 
 '' Salvation — honour — glory — power — 
 
 Unto the Lord our God, 
 For He has judged the mighty whore, 
 
 And 'venged his servants' blood !" 
 
 All heaven will join the song of doom, 
 While earth the triumph shares — 
 
 " The marriage of the Lamb is come, 
 His wife herself prepares !" 
 
 * Rev. vi. 9— IL
 
 130 PROTESTANT BALLADS 
 
 Oh ! blessed then, wliose names are writ 
 In Heaven's high roll of fame, 
 
 For they shall grace, and never quit, 
 The table of the Lamb. 
 
 But Babylon is gone — is gone — 
 
 By fixed and firm decree. 
 For " a mighty angel took a stone 
 
 And cast it in the sea."
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 137 
 
 OLD ENGLAND— MY COUNTRY! 
 
 '^ ;OlEr*ENGLAND — my country ! 
 
 The home of the brave, 
 The birth-place of Freedom, 
 
 Of fetters — the grave — 
 The hearts of thy sons, 
 
 Like the waves of the sea, 
 Encircle thee roiuicl 
 
 With the love of the free. 
 
 Old England — my country ! 
 
 The sound of thy name 
 AVakcs the chord of my bosom 
 That thrills to thy fame ;
 
 138 rPvOTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 While the echoes of heaven 
 
 Are waiting to tell 
 The praises of millions, 
 
 Who love thee as well. 
 
 Oh ! who can be silent, 
 
 When honour should speak, 
 Or who but with praises 
 
 The silence would break ? — 
 He's a slave, who refuses 
 
 To echo the song. 
 Or a knave, who abuses 
 
 The use of his tongue. 
 
 But the heart of the true man — 
 
 The patriot — glows, 
 And the lips it uncloses 
 
 Unwilling to close. 
 Till the tale of her glory 
 
 Is told to a world. 
 And the flag of her storj 
 
 As widely unfurled !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 139 
 
 'And sucli be the spirit, 
 
 That ever inspires 
 The souls of her chiklren, 
 
 The hearts of her sires ; 
 And England — my country, 
 
 For ever shall be 
 The pride of the mighty, 
 
 The boast of the free ! 
 
 ; Tlfeif*resound the " hurrah" 
 " From the hill to the plain, 
 Till the valley re-echo 
 The chorus again — 
 " Hurrah for Old Enirland !"- 
 
 The cry, as it rolls. 
 Is the shout of our bosoms, 
 The song of our souls !
 
 140 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE TEUTH. 
 
 The Truth— the Truth!— The glorious Truth! 
 
 For which our martyr' d fathers died ; 
 The guide and guard of headlong youth, 
 
 Of tott'ring age the staff and pride. 
 
 The Truth, that thrilled our infant ears, 
 By mother's fondness whispered there, 
 
 With power applied by Him, who hears 
 The fervour of a mother's prayer. 
 
 The Truth, that led our childhood's feet 
 In pure Religion's upward road : 
 
 The message from a Mercy seat — 
 The manual of the love of God.
 
 ■^ PROTESTANT BALLADS. 141 
 
 The Truth, that cheers our manhood's prime 
 With hopes of joy, and views of Lliss ; 
 
 Eevealing destinies sublime, 
 
 To beckon from a world like this. 
 
 And when the setting sun of life 
 
 Sheds out his horizontal ray, 
 Atljwart the scene of storm and strife, 
 
 Tha^ ij^aries out our mortal day, 
 
 That Truth shall light us through the gloom 
 Succeeding time's expiring even, 
 
 Discov'ring footprints in the tomb. 
 Of Him wlio trod that way to heaven.
 
 14:2 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 PvOMEWAED, HO! 
 
 " EoMEWARD, Ho !" — Who will go ?— 
 Ye that mean it, let us know : 
 Are your banners ready wa^ought '? 
 Then unfold them as ye ought ! 
 Wave them, and give out the call 
 From our Zion's ancient wall, 
 " Who is ripe to join the foe — 
 Eomeward, Ho ! — Who will go ?" 
 
 Jesuit fleecers of the flock ! 
 'Twill not be a sudden shock ; 
 Long we've seen you're not at home. 
 Hankering for the arms of Rome :
 
 -^ PROTESTANT BALLADS. 14o 
 
 Leave us ! — Better that tlie fold 
 Should be shepherdless, than sold ; 
 Better that the sheep should stray, 
 Than be led a fatal Avav. 
 
 Eomeward, Ho ! — Attend the call, 
 Semi-Papists ! one and all ; 
 Tinje it is -we fairly knew 
 Wbo4ira^felse, and who are true ; — 
 True liie'n — proof to Home's embrace, 
 Still retain your honour's place ; 
 False ones — now your colours show, 
 Romeward, Ho ! — Who will o-o ? 
 
 If ye find ye're not at home, 
 
 In tlie filthy arms of Eome ; 
 
 If ye taste her bitter fruit. 
 
 If ye mark lier cloven foot ; 
 
 When you see, beyond a d(jubt. 
 
 How yoiu' folly finds you out. 
 
 Then confess, 'twas mad to go, 
 
 Sound the sunnnons — "Homeward, Ho!"
 
 144 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Homeward, Ho ! — and homeward hie, 
 ^11 who have believed a lie ; 
 Come ! — Eetiiiii ! — where Truth displays 
 Pure Religion's happy ways ; 
 By experience, dearly bought. 
 Choicest lessons have been taught : 
 Ye have paid, and found it so — 
 Homeward, Ho ! — Homeward, Ho !
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 145 
 
 ENGLAND'S VOICE TO ENGLAND'S 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 WRITTEN PREVIOUS TO THE PASSING OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL 
 
 TITLES BILL. 
 
 ■<* 
 
 M-GN-A«RCH-! hear a people's cry — 
 
 Listen to a nation's story — 
 'Tis no infant's lullaby, 
 
 But the shout of perill'd glory. 
 
 Never let a Despot say, 
 
 England's sceptre rules no longer — 
 Shew him, by decisive sway, 
 
 Popes are strong, but Queens are stronger 
 
 'Tis a daring, dark offence. 
 
 Dastard IjIow at Britain's honour ; 
 
 Insolence of Impotence — 
 
 Shall the shame remain upon her ? 
 
 H
 
 146 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Nay — Victoria ! — speak the word, 
 Like a Monarcli, be it spoken, 
 
 Vowing o'er a nation's sword 
 Both must be, if one be broken. 
 
 Tell the vain Usurper so, 
 
 Bid him call his minions homeward ; 
 Tell them, Britons bid them " go !" 
 
 And if they go not — send them — Romeward. 
 
 Oh ! by all a nation's hopes. 
 
 Monarch ! like a monarch shew it — 
 England's throne is not the Pope's, 
 
 England's Queen will let him know it. 
 
 Kouse thee ! like the waves that roll 
 Round thy glorious Isle of Ocean, 
 
 When the winds from either pole 
 Lash them into angry motion.
 
 ^ PROTESTANT BALLADS. 147 
 
 r 
 
 Rouse thee ! in the might of right, 
 As becomes thy name and glory ; 
 
 Loyal Britons wait the sight, 
 
 Jealous for their country's story. 
 
 Play the Queen, then ! — never fear ! — 
 
 English hearts are pledg'd before thee ; 
 He who made thee monarch here — 
 - jEngiand's God — is watching o'er thee.
 
 148 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 THE BIBLE SOCIETY'S PLEA. 
 
 Give me your Ears, wliile I tell 
 A\Tiat I have done, and am doing ; 
 
 If in the chase I've acquitted me well, 
 Bid me " God-speed " in pursuing. 
 
 Give me your Word, where you see 
 Words may in season be spoken : 
 
 Tongues for the Bible are fearless and free, 
 Once if their silence be broken. 
 
 Give me your Time and your Pains ; 
 
 Both are demanded, and wanted ; 
 Give them — for both, in eternity's gains, 
 
 Tenfold reward will be granted.
 
 ^ PROTESTANT BALLADS. 149 
 
 Give me your perisliing Pelf, 
 
 To send the imsearcliable treasure, 
 
 ^Vliere it will purchase a crown for itself, 
 " Jewels " for youi' own without measure. 
 
 mm 
 
 Give me a Prayer for success ; 
 None are so poor to deny it : 
 Giving no more, you can give me no less ; 
 /'^^3;T^nd my God will supply it. 
 
 Give me your Praise — nay, accord 
 Praise, whence the blessing is given — 
 
 Praise to the God, who has honoured His 
 Word, 
 And made it the passport to heaven. 
 
 Give me all these— and I'll give 
 
 Millions on millions the story, 
 ]')idding the dead and the dyhig to live. 
 
 And leading the living to glory.
 
 150 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 LET NO MAN DECEIVE YOU. 
 
 " Lest any man should beguile you witli enticing words." — Col. ii. 4. 
 
 With words of enticing let no man deceive 
 you: 
 The word may be sweet, but the tongue is 
 of gall ; 
 And who shall be found from the snare to 
 retrieve you, 
 If once in the net of the fowler you fall ? 
 
 Beware of the vipers, that Eome is employing, 
 With venom to poison your Protestant 
 blood ; 
 Let me ask, ere you slight the good health 
 you're enjoying, 
 Will Rome's vaccination preserve it as 
 good ?
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 151 
 
 r 
 
 You've looked on the mischief deceivers have 
 done us, 
 You've seen desolation of spirit and hope ; 
 So deaf be your ears, till these " charmers" 
 shall shun us, 
 As rebels outright to " the Church" and 
 the Pope. 
 
 ^» 
 W?!^e a Church of our own, and her head is 
 
 "^''j"- - Christ Jesus, 
 
 We walk by His word, while we bow to 
 
 His throne : 
 
 So of Popish pretences we pray them to ease us. 
 
 And we'll ask their advice, when we've done 
 
 with our own.
 
 152 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 PROTESTANT ALLIANCE. 
 
 For our Country, our Queen, and our God, 
 We are banded in Holy Alliance ; 
 
 To follow the steps that our forefathers trod, 
 And to echo their words of defiance : 
 
 The laws of our land to maintain, 
 Spite of Pope, or of Cardinal minion. 
 
 Spite of Jesuit efforts to fasten the chain 
 On the freedom of British opinion : 
 
 The Queen of our land to defend 
 
 From the tyrant, the tool, and the traitor ; 
 United, to act the unchangeable friend, 
 
 Whether others may love her or hate her :
 
 ^x. PROTESTANT BALLADS. 153 
 
 The God of our land to adore, 
 
 To speak of His glory and honour, 
 
 Till our Isle of sea, from the shore to the 
 shore. 
 Has taken His service upon her. 
 
 To our Land, then, our Queen, and our God, 
 Our lips, with our hearts, have been plighted, 
 
 Aiicf our^lips, with our hearts, shall be cold 
 ' ■"' - 'neath the sod. 
 
 Or ever they be disunited ; — 
 
 For in Holy Alliance we stand. 
 
 By the Truth, that inspires us, defended ; 
 A faithful, a firm, and a Protestant band, 
 
 Till the battle with Rome shall be ended.
 
 154 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 A PEOTESTANT'S PRAYER. 
 
 God of grace and glory, 
 
 List to our appeal ; 
 Youth, " mid age, and hoary," 
 
 At Thy footstool kneel : 
 For the dark benighted 
 
 Fervently we pray, 
 Let them be enlighted 
 
 By the Gospel's ray. 
 
 Send Thy Holy Spirit 
 To the dens of death, 
 
 There for Jesu's merit 
 Breathe the vital breath ;
 
 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 155 
 
 Eouse the dead from slumber, 
 Wake tliem with the Word, 
 
 Numbers without number 
 Turning to the Lord. 
 
 
 AVliere the Crescent rages 
 
 In its Sohlan might, 
 Where the Pagan wages 
 .^Warfare with the light — 
 " '7' There, in all its terror, 
 
 Wield the Word of Life, 
 Till the hosts of Error 
 Yield them in the strife. 
 
 Where the proud Usurper, 
 
 Rome's imperious Eang, 
 Dooms to shameful torpor. 
 
 Mind's expansive wing ; 
 There Thine own creation 
 
 From its bonds unchain, 
 Till Thine emanation 
 
 Rise to Thee again.
 
 156 PROTESTANT BALLADS. 
 
 Where the pride of Reason 
 
 Scouts Thy Written Will, 
 Or, with daring treason, 
 
 Adds its codicil ; 
 Oh, with grace prevailing. 
 
 Vindicate Thy rule, 
 Till the sceptic, failing, 
 
 Own himself a fool. 
 
 Thus, bid all adore Thee, 
 
 Fling their arms away ; 
 Casting them before Thee, 
 
 Trophies of Thy sway : 
 God of grace and glory. 
 
 Such the prayer we raise :- 
 Youth, mid age, and hoary. 
 
 Wait to give Thee praise.
 
 APPENDIX
 
 THE FOLLOWING POEM 
 
 OBTAIXED THE 
 
 fic£-C|anall0r*$ Iri^c 
 
 -^• 
 
 *----*' .^* 
 
 IN 
 
 <<-' _ 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, 
 
 AT THE 
 
 SUMMER COMMENCEMENT, 
 
 1844, 
 
 AND IS INSERTED HEKE BY PARTICULAR REQUEST.
 
 AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF THE SUBJECT OF THIS POEM 
 IS GIVEN IN " STEPHENS' TRAVELS."
 
 liiiittir Cities of Central ^mericii 
 
 ^» 
 
 
 Memorial records of the past, — 
 
 How lone, how sad, ye lie. 
 Whilst hovers round the midnight blast 
 
 In many a fitful sigh 5 
 As patriot s})irits of the dead. 
 
 The great, the wise, the fair. 
 Would love your ruined walls to tread, 
 
 And whisper what ye were ! — 
 
 Come now, ye vaunting sons of power ! 
 
 Who triumj:)!! in your day. 
 Come, look for palace — temple — tower — 
 
 And tell me, where are they ?
 
 clxii. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Strong hands, that reared the massy piles, 
 
 Fair lips, that magnified. 
 Bright eyes, that beamed applauding smiles, 
 
 Great hearts, that throbbed with pride ? 
 
 All — All are gone ! — Unwept, unsung 
 
 The glory, grandeur, might : — 
 Oblivion hath her mantle hung, 
 
 Dark Myst'ry spread her night. 
 Where now the sound of mortal tread, 
 
 (So solemnly it falls) 
 Re-echoing, seems to wake the dead 
 
 Beneath those ancient walls. 
 
 The monarch on his glittering throne, 
 
 With sceptre ruling wide. 
 Who called a hundred realms his own, 
 
 And sought the world beside ; — 
 The vassal crowd, who wrought his will 
 
 Of high or mean degree. 
 Intent his mandate to fulfil 
 
 Whate'er the call might be —
 
 ^ APPENDIX. clxiii. 
 
 O'erwhelmed beneath one common fall, 
 
 The prince, the peer, the slave. 
 All equal now — forgotten all. 
 
 They fill one mighty grave : — 
 The regal throne is turned to dust, 
 
 The monarch to his clay, 
 While crumbling monument, or bust. 
 
 Is all remains to-day. 
 
 'The- bard, who sang in words of fire 
 
 His praise of fatherland ; 
 Where soundeth now his thrilling lyre ? — 
 
 W^here strikes his master hand ? 
 Ages agone the night-wind swept 
 
 That lyre above his grave ; 
 Ages agone the music slept, — 
 
 The minstrel hand that gave ! 
 
 Where hurls the warrior now his lance, 
 And reins the plunging steed ? 
 
 Where now the marshall'd hosts advance. 
 The gallant Chieftain lead ? —
 
 Clxiv. APPENDIX. 
 
 Alas ! — Alas ! — Yon forest trees 
 Were nurtured in tlieir clay, 
 
 And moaning to tlie listless breeze, 
 Tlieir requiem sing to-day ! 
 
 All — All are gone ! — But Fancy yet 
 
 Brings other times to view, 
 Awliile the present we forget. 
 
 And by-gone scenes renew : — 
 What unexpected visions then 
 
 Delight our ardent gaze, — 
 Wniiat music strikes the ear again 
 
 From lyres of ancient days ! 
 
 Yes, fond Imagination brings 
 
 Whate'er hath passed away ; 
 The glories of terrestrial things 
 
 Can trace on their decay : — 
 By Copan's wall she bids me stand 
 
 To muse on distant years. 
 Then paints the spot with artist hand, 
 
 Till all the past appears.
 
 ^» 
 
 ^ APPENDIX. Clxv. 
 
 Where gently bends yon pathless wood, 
 
 Swept by the Zephyr's wings, 
 I see, as once in grandeur stood. 
 
 The home of sceptred kings : 
 With gilded domes that prop the sky, 
 
 With frowning battle towers, — 
 "With all of earthly majesty. 
 
 That decks this world of ours. 
 
 J-see in princely pomp of state 
 
 A high and noble train 
 Forth issue from the palace gate. 
 
 To seek the gorgeous fane ; 
 T mark them bow the suppliant knee. 
 
 Their wants, their wishes, own, 
 W^ith all Devotion's energy. 
 
 Before an idol's throne. 
 
 And now behold a glittering throng ! 
 
 Where chiefs with ladies gay 
 Anon the whirling dance prolong. 
 
 Or list the minstrel's lay ! —
 
 f'lxvi. APPENDIX. 
 
 While aged men sit calmly by, 
 And part tlieir silv'ry hair 
 
 To watch the joyous revelry, 
 They once were known to share. 
 
 On mighty warriors next I gaze — 
 
 A vast, a dread display, 
 Bright gleaming in the noon-day blaze. 
 
 That fires their steel array ; 
 Aloft they whirl the flashing sword, 
 
 They mount the battle car. 
 They burn to hail the signal word. 
 
 That leads them forth to war ! 
 
 I turn, and see the varied plan 
 
 Of business — pleasm^e — strife ; 
 The power — the littleness — of man, 
 
 The mingled scene of life : 
 To homes of Poverty and Wealth — 
 
 Where Vice, where Virtues reign — 
 To all the vigorous joy of Health — 
 
 The tortured form of Pain.
 
 APPENDIX. clxvii, 
 
 y 
 
 Hopes — that were blasted in their birth, 
 
 Stand forth in pale array 5 
 The swiftly faded flowers of Earth, 
 
 That scarce endured a day : — 
 Joys — that are just within the grasp, 
 
 When envious Death appears. 
 And folds within his iron clasp 
 
 Th', accomplished wish of years. 
 
 '^en thousand beings pass my sight. 
 
 And each with differing aim : 
 Some sti'ive for honour, riches, might — 
 
 Some seek the path of Fame : 
 They hoard their wealth : they yearn for more : 
 
 They walk the beaten way 
 Their fathers' feet have trod before, 
 
 And then — have passed away ! 
 
 ^'. £*^ J"'- .•*'. ^- 
 
 T.»f -Vii" ■>,? v.? -,,;■ 
 
 'Tis all a dream ! — Unreal all ! — 
 
 No life, no sound is there. 
 Save yonder doleful night-bird's call, 
 
 Awaken' d from his lair : —
 
 Clxviii. APPENDIX. ' 
 
 Feels burdened with a solemn awe 
 
 The contemplative mind, 
 As flee the visions Fancy saw, 
 
 And Ruin stays behind ! — 
 
 The dream is past ! — Those cities lie, 
 
 While ages yet roll on, 
 Their time, their fate, their mystery. 
 
 Unknown to all — save One : 
 But He engraves those tombs of power 
 
 With words of solemn sound : 
 " Vain man, thou boaster of an hour ! 
 
 What art thou ? Look around !" 
 
 BKEESFORD AND GALT, PRINTERS, CROSS STREET, MANCHESTER.

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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