Lines on the Projected Alterations in the Uniform of the British Cavalry
Hail chivalry, whose influence bland,
Enlightening many a barbarous age,
Has often checked the murderous hand,
And soothed stern valour’s iron rage.
Bade e’en Mahomet’s lawless crowd
Submissive own thy gentle sway,
And feudal lords and barons proud
With bending neck thy laws obey.
Enraptur’d, on thy glorious page
Poetic fancy loves to hang
And see again the battle rage
And hear the martial trumpet clang.
To dwell on noble deeds of arms,
That proved each warrior’s matchless might
And many a lovely damsel’s charms
That captive held each valiant knight.
And hark a voice from Britain’s land
Where freedom yet maintains her throne
Freedom so long thy bosom friend
And long to to other climes unknown.
She bids with voice of magic power
Thy martial spirit wake again
Sad Europe’s trampled rights restore,
And break oppression’s iron chain.
She bids thee come, and bring with thee,
Religion, drest in angel grace,
The smiling cherub courtesy
Resistless valour’s dauntless face.
And all the noble band of old,
That graced in regal state thy train;
Honour and faith and courage bold,
And emulation rise again.
And see the warlike train appears,
And arms our youth for deadly fight
I hear the martial clash of shears
I see the helmets glittering bright
Proud valour fires each mailed breast,
And prudence leads the noble train
And sends them forth in terror drest
Albion to guard to rescue Spain.
Ten thousand thunders roll around,
Ten thousand lightnings break the gloom,
Of smoky clouds that hide the ground,
And speak their rash opposers’ doom.
With fancy’s wild prophetic eye
The triumph of their arms I view
See Gallia’s vanquished legions fly
And Europe’s honour sprout anew.
See liberty assume her power
While all her subjects bless her reign
Ausonia, Belgia, Gaul, restore
And throw her arms across the main.
While our proud navies scour the sea,
And all with grateful hearts confess,
Britain their source of liberty
And guardian of their happiness.
And seek anew each sacred fane
In thankful adoration there,
The happy nations bow again
And joy draws forth the pious tear.