Come ye — who, if ( which Heaven avert! ) the Land
Were with herself at strife, would take your stand,
Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side,
And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride —
Come ye — who, not less zealous, might display
Banners at enmity with regal sway,
And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day,
Think that a State would live in sounder health
If Kingship bowed its head to Commonwealth —
Ye too — whom no discreditable fear
Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear,
Uncertain what to choose and how to steer —
And ye — who might mistake for sober sense
And wise reserve the plea of indolence —
Come ye — whate'er your creed — O waken all,
Whate'er your temper, at your Country's call;
Resolving ( this a free-born Nation can )
To have one Soul, and perish to a man,
Or save this honoured Land from every Lord
But British reason and the British sword.